Mommy Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  “On the other hand, Kruger is known for his adept evasion of discovery,” Richard said. “But I can’t imagine why he’d focus on me. He’s not my nemesis. I haven’t heard his name in years.”

  “Maybe you have,” Troy said. “His alias could have changed.”

  “We need more information.”

  “There’s a problem of jurisdiction,” Troy reminded him. “My marines don’t have authority inside the United States. Our information comes through the navy’s criminal investigators and homeland security.”

  “Likewise for the CIA.” Richard stood. “I suggest that you contact your point man for an update, and we’ll join the ladies for lunch. We will inform them—all three of them—that they need to stay here at Bianca’s house.”

  “For their own safety,” Troy said.

  “Surely, they’ll understand.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  * * *

  “NOT A CHANCE,” Bianca said as she pushed her chair back from the dining table. “I can’t stay locked up in my house. I have a job.”

  “Take a few days off,” Dad said as he returned from the kitchen. “I’m sure your law firm will survive.”

  “It’s not about them. It’s about me. I’m on track to make partner,” Bianca said. “There’s an important dinner I need to attend tonight. We need to attend. Remember, Dad?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Olivia could tell by his guarded expression that her father had completely spaced out the formal dinner that was apparently important to her sister’s career. After her heart-to-heart talk with her mom and Bianca, she felt like the balance of family relationships was in chaos. The polite civility that marked most of their luncheons had been replaced by a reckless urge to blurt out the truth. And the chardonnay was flowing.

  She wasn’t drinking, and Troy had left the table to take a phone call, but the other three Laughtons had already polished off one bottle of French wine with their quiche. Standing at the head of the table, her dad pulled the cork from a second bottle. As he poured a healthy dose into Sharon’s wineglass, he said, “Try to understand, Bianca. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “I’ll stay home this afternoon,” Bianca said, “but I’m going to that dinner.”

  Olivia asked, “What’s so important about this dinner?”

  “It’s a reception for a Saudi prince and his entourage. One of our biggest clients, CRG Energy Group, is trying to solidify a deal with him. I met the prince once before, and he specifically asked for me to be there.”

  “Maybe you can be wife number three,” Olivia teased.

  “Very funny. He’s not married.”

  “And quite a handsome young man,” Mom said. “Amir was educated at Oxford, and he plays the violin. Your father and I met him at a recital that featured Yo-Yo Ma.”

  “Yo-Yo Ma?” Olivia was impressed. “Really?”

  “It’s my cover, dear. Cultural affairs at various embassies.” She smiled fondly at her husband. “We’ve led a very interesting life.”

  “Amir remembers them,” Bianca said. “That’s why he wanted them to be invited to the reception.”

  “Do you think we can arrange for Olivia and Troy to come?” Mom asked.

  Olivia wasn’t thrilled with that idea. She’d rather have private time with Troy. “We’ll skip.”

  “This is more than a social occasion.” Mom delicately sipped her chardonnay. “According to our sources, Kruger is involved with the oil business. This dinner might connect to our investigation.”

  “Investigation?” Her dad lowered himself into his chair. “We’re not investigating.”

  “We should be,” Mom said brightly. “The best way to eliminate a threat is to find the source.”

  Olivia wondered how often the gourmet dinner parties that her parents arranged were covers for investigations or opportunities to gather intelligence. Being spies meant they were constantly on the lookout, constantly under threat. The fact that she and her sister had managed to sneak out of the house for late-night parties was kind of amazing.

  “Here’s an idea,” Bianca said. “Why don’t we call the police?”

  “Oh, my dear.” Mom looked down her nose with none-too-subtle disparagement. “This is much more than a simple police action. The CIA and various homeland security agencies are involved. I would imagine that Troy has also been in contact with military intelligence and NCIS.”

  “Why?”

  “It has something to do with a sleeper spy named Kruger that your father and I might or might not have known.” She raised her wineglass toward her husband, and they clinked rims. “I must say, I’m enjoying this new atmosphere of truth-telling. We should have done this years ago.”

  Bianca stared across the table at Olivia. “Make it stop.”

  “Too late,” Olivia muttered.

  Her sophisticated parents—Mr. and Mrs. Super Spy—were obviously enjoying themselves. They had so much in common. Shared occupation. Shared interest in the arts. Shared love of world travel. Both slim and elegant, they looked like they belonged together.

  When Olivia spotted Troy sauntering down the hallway toward the table, she knew they’d never be a perfect match like her parents. He was a marine, first and foremost. His training directed him toward quick, aggressive action. Her career was all about patience and nurturing. They’d grown up in different worlds, experienced different things.

  He straightened his shoulders before entering the room. His chin lifted, and his easygoing manner was replaced by determination. She recognized his attitude in the tensing of his muscles, and she knew he was preparing for battle. Neither she nor her family was the enemy, but they were all strong personalities. Dealing with the Laughtons was difficult, and she admired him for taking on the challenge.

  He never gave up. How many times had he proposed marriage? At least a dozen. Any other man would have turned his back and walked away. Not Troy. When he set a goal, he was relentless.

  Her hand rested on her belly. Until last night, she’d thought his only concern was the baby and his responsibilities as a father. The way he’d held her and touched her made her think otherwise. He was after her, as well. He wanted her.

  And she enjoyed being the object of his pursuit. Seeing him was a pleasure. Looking at his gorgeous body and handsome face made her heart jump. Physically, he was everything she wanted in a man. If he turned away from her now, she might reverse course and start going after him.

  Unlike her parents, she and Troy weren’t birds of a feather. They were an unlikely couple, but their bond grew stronger every moment they were together.

  The atmosphere around the table changed when he returned to his seat beside her. His bearing was serious, but his voice was matter-of-fact and calm. “I’ve just gotten off the phone with Gunnery Sergeant Nelson. He’s my point man on the Hatari terrorist cell, and he’s coordinating intelligence with several other agencies.”

  “Including ours?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. CIA is front and center. They have the most intelligence on Kruger, who they suspect of involvement in financing arms deals through Africa.”

  “Recently?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s how he might have come into contact with Hatari,” her father said. “Has Kruger been identified?”

  “He’s still under deep cover.” Troy took out his cell phone, tapped a few buttons and pulled up a photo. “The best they could do were three photographs from twenty-two years ago when Kruger first entered the United States.”

  “Three pictures of different men?” Olivia asked.

  “I’ll explain,” her father said. “Kruger was supposed to meet with a Mossad agent who was under surveillance. The agent had contact with three different men. These photos were taken with a long-range lens on city streets, and they’re terribly blurred. None of the men could be identified.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bianca said. “Mossad is the Israeli secret service. Doesn’t that
mean they’re on our side?”

  Quietly, Troy said, “Those lines got blurred. The Mossad agent was killed before he could be taken into custody and debriefed.”

  “A botched mission,” her father said. “Kruger went his merry way to establish his deep cover identity. We can assume his appearance was altered. His fingerprints were never on file.”

  Olivia couldn’t believe they were talking about these things. Sitting around the lunch table with the remains of quiche and a bottle of chardonnay, her family was calmly chatting about spy missions, assassinations and Mossad agents. Who were these people? And what had they done with her ultrasecretive parents?

  Troy handed the cell phone with the photos to her father. “I’d appreciate if you take a look.”

  “A waste of time,” he said dismissively. “I’ve seen these pictures before.”

  “With all due respect,” Troy said, “technology has improved in the past twenty-two years. These photos have been digitally enhanced.”

  “I haven’t seen them,” Mom said as she held out her hand for the phone. “Richard, darling, why was I kept in the dark?”

  “Twenty-two years ago,” her father said, “you weren’t working in the field.”

  Olivia knew exactly what had happened twenty-two years ago. It was after she and her mom had been kidnapped, and the family moved to Washington, D.C., where they settled down until both daughters were through high school. Was it possible that Kruger and the current kidnapping attempt were related to what had happened so long ago?

  As her mother scanned the photos, Olivia watched her expression. When she was a child, she’d been able to read every nuance of her mother’s moods. As she grew up, they had lost that connection.

  When her mom looked up from the cell phone and met her gaze, Olivia saw a flash of anger. “What is it, Mom?”

  “I know this man.”

  Chapter Ten

  Troy reached over and took Olivia’s hand. She had gasped when her mother had made her announcement, and his natural instinct was to protect the mother of his unborn son. From what? Her own mother? Troy had the uneasy feeling that Olivia’s family could hurt her more than any other perceived threat.

  He shot a quick glance in her direction. Her face showed a mirror reflection of her mother’s tension. Damn it, this wasn’t the way things should be. A pregnant lady should be surrounded by tranquility and peace with somebody massaging her feet and somebody else feeding her grapes. She needed serenity. Not spy chasing.

  And he was as guilty as the rest of them. He’d taken her condition for granted and assumed that she could handle everything herself. That attitude had to change.

  Looking toward Sharon Laughton, Troy asked, “Ma’am, are you sure about the identification?”

  “I know him,” she said firmly.

  “Did you meet Kruger years ago?”

  “No, I don’t believe I did.”

  Troy wasn’t following her comments. “Are you saying that you’ve met him recently?”

  She nodded. “He looks different now. There are typical changes due to aging, like his receding hairline. I’d guess that at some time he had plastic surgery to modify his nose and the line of his jaw. Still, the resemblance is blatantly obvious. It’s the shape of his ears. Ears don’t change. They’re unique to each individual and are an excellent means of identification.”

  Her husband left his chair, circled the table and stood behind her. When he checked out the photo on the cell phone, his eyebrows raised. “She’s right.”

  “You bet I am.”

  Olivia’s mother had transformed from a beige sophisticate into a tiger mom. Her cheeks flushed. Her lips drew back in a snarl that revealed perfect white teeth. “What level of incompetence would allow this individual to go undetected? I cannot abide this nonsense. Not when it endangers my children.”

  “Again, she’s right.” Richard backed her up. “Kruger must be taken into custody immediately.”

  Troy wasn’t sure what the hell they were talking about. He was missing something. “Let me get this straight. You both know this man?”

  “Yes,” they said in chorus.

  Through a clenched jaw, he asked, “Can you give me a name?”

  Olivia’s mother passed the cell phone to Bianca. “Why don’t you do the honors, dear? Tell him.”

  Bianca stared blankly at the screen. “I don’t see it.”

  “The ears,” her mother said. “Look at his ears.”

  “Still not getting it,” Bianca said.

  “Really, darling. Imagine this young man with twenty years of hard living. His hair is steel-gray. His forehead is creased, and he has deep lines at the edge of his mouth.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Bianca snapped. “I haven’t had your training. I haven’t spent my whole life studying faces and being paranoid. I deal with facts. Not innuendo.”

  “And I’m proud of you,” her mother said. “I’m proud of both my daughters.”

  Troy heard Olivia draw a ragged breath. She was on the verge of hormonal tears again, and he didn’t want to go through another bout of emotion. “We’ve had enough guessing games. I need a name.”

  “Matthew Clark,” Richard said. “He’s one of the principals in CRG Energy. They’re clients of Bianca’s law firm.”

  Bianca stared at the photo, blinked and looked up. In a small voice, she said, “It’s him.”

  Other information Troy had received suggested that Kruger was involved in the oil business. “Earlier, when I talked with Sergeant Nelson, he mentioned that they’d picked up chatter about Denver. I never thought the connection would be so close.”

  “What happens now?” Olivia asked.

  The others talked at once. Bianca wanted the bastard to be arrested and subjected to a humiliating perp walk. Richard insisted upon informing his superiors at the CIA while Sharon sneered at the CIA for not locating Kruger sooner and suggested that they personally take him into custody and find out what he knew.

  “Enough.” Troy rose to his feet. “This is my operation. Apprehending Kruger is not our prime objective. We’ve got a terrorist cell planning to blow up a building in Manhattan. They need to be stopped.”

  “Of course,” Olivia’s mother said as she sipped her chardonnay. “You need to check with your people, Troy. In the meantime, we should all get ready for the dinner tonight. Bianca, please arrange for Olivia and Troy to be guests. Olivia, do you have anything appropriate to wear?”

  “I do.”

  “Excellent. For dinner tonight, you and Troy will pretend to be engaged. It simplifies introductions if we can say he’s your fiancé.”

  Olivia started to object, “I’m not going to—”

  “You need a nap,” her mother said as she rose from the table. “It’s already been a long day, and we’ll be out late tonight.”

  Troy was pretty sure that his authority had been usurped and he’d been managed by the elegant hand of Sharon Laughton. She was damn good at what she did.

  * * *

  IN THE GUEST bedroom, Olivia lay on her side on the bed closest to the window and stared at the afternoon light that spilled around the edge of the flowered curtain. Seeing her parents acting like CIA operatives wasn’t really a shock. At some level, she and Bianca had always known that Mom and Dad were more than diplomats who traveled the globe.

  But their behavior was strange. Her mom wore an ankle holster as an accessory. She recognized other spies by the shape of their ears.

  Absentmindedly, she massaged her belly. How was she going to tell her son? Could she really say something like, “Granny and Grandpa are going to be late for your soccer game because they’re doing espionage in Uzbekistan”? Explaining Troy’s occupation was easier. He was a marine; his job revolved around danger. But Granny and Grandpa? No way could she explain their profession to a child.

  Similar to her own childhood, there would be a curtain drawn over a large part of her parents’ lives. Was the family secrecy all that important to their relationshi
p with her son? Love should be all that mattered. When she was growing up, Olivia had never felt unloved. Sure, she’d had issues. She’d feared that she’d never measure up to her parents’ high expectations and had struggled for their approval. But she had known that her mom and dad loved her.

  She heard the bedroom door open and turned her head to see Troy entering on tiptoe.

  “You’re not disturbing me,” she assured him. “I wasn’t napping.”

  He came around the bed and went down on one knee in front of her so he could look her in the eye. “I’d join you on the bed, but I don’t think both of us will fit.”

  “Twin beds,” she muttered. Her sister’s guest bedroom was perfectly acceptable but it was far from a love nest. “What’s the update?”

  “According to the CIA and to my people as well, your mother’s identification of Matthew Clark as Kruger has an eighty percent chance of being accurate. They’re sorting through documents and doing forensic computer searches on Matthew Clark’s finances to make sure. But it seems likely.”

  “Mom must be thrilled.”

  “She’s kind of amazing,” he said. “She’s angry enough to rip somebody’s face off, but she’s one hundred percent smooth when she talks to her superiors. Velvet and steel.”

  An apt description. “Imagine growing up with that.”

  “I’m guessing that you and Bianca didn’t get away with much.”

  “The odd thing is that we did. Both Mom and Dad trusted us and let us make our own mistakes.” She thought back to a couple of teenage catastrophes. “The steely part came when we got caught. Mom never raised her voice, but she could skin us alive with a look.”

  “My instructions are to proceed as though nothing is different, and we haven’t identified Kruger.” He gave a shrug. “That means we have to show up for this dinner tonight.”

  She groaned. “Really?”

  “I’m not happy about it, either. My instincts are telling me that something isn’t right. I don’t know what. Something.”