The Soldier’s Secret Daughter

by Cindy Dees

  Relief flooded Emily that AbaCo probably didn’t have Michelle yet. But then visions of Jagger’s tiny prison flashed through her mind and a new wave of panic broke over her. Her baby couldn’t end up like that! She just couldn’t.

  “Breathe, Em. We’ll get to her first.”

  She took several deep breaths. It would be okay. Michelle would be safe. She had to be. Any other possibility was simply unthinkable. The two of them quickly hunted down their clothes and she pulled hers back on, oblivious of the sand now grating uncomfortably against her skin.

  As they walked quickly back to the cabin, her mind finally began to function again, even if all it did was jump from one disjointed thought to another. At least it did until one odd observation registered and then stuck in her craw. It grew into something uncomfortable smoldering in her gut. It wasn’t anger exactly, but it was irritating, and she didn’t know exactly how to react.

  Jagger still hadn’t said a word about how he felt about finding out that he was a father. Okay, she’d grant that it was a shock and might take some getting used to before he figured out how he felt. But so far he’d called Michelle a liability, an exploitable asset and leverage. Oh, and once he’d referred to Michelle as her daughter. Not his.

  She tried to argue herself out of it. She’d determined a long time ago not to force parenthood on Jagger if she ever found him. She’d made the decision on her own to go through with the pregnancy and to be a single parent. She’d vowed to have no expectations of him.

  But her jaw couldn’t help but tighten at the way he’d labeled her precious daughter like some sort of inconvenient object to be managed.

  Something else Ian Fleming had never bothered to reveal about James Bond—although in fairness to the author, she probably should have known it herself—he was lousy father material.

  Chapter 11

  A baby. Holy smokes.

  Jagger stared out the window of the Boeing 777 at the featureless blue of the Pacific Ocean passing below. They’d land in Los Angeles in an hour, and then, assuming nothing went wrong, they’d be on their way to Virginia. And his daughter.

  The concept still blew his mind, and he’d had nearly twelve hours to get used to it while Don flew to Lyle’s island from Honolulu, took them back to Oahu and then they boarded this flight to the mainland. Most men got seven or eight months to adapt to the idea of being a father, lucky bastards. And based on the degree of shock he was currently experiencing, they needed all eight months, too.

  Even in the low-quality home photos of the toddler that Emily had shown him, Michelle did look startlingly like him. There really wasn’t any question that the child was his. And besides, Emily wasn’t the kind of woman to lie about something like this. If she said Michelle was his daughter, then it was true.

  He’d never even met the child, and already he could hardly sit still in his seat as he pondered the possibilities if AbaCo managed to get a hold of her. What was up with that? It was as if he’d gone from zero to protective Daddy in ten seconds flat.

  He’d listened in a state of wonder approaching disbelief as Emily eagerly regaled him with two years’ worth of accumulated stories about her pregnancy, birth and raising of Michelle to date. She sounded like a cute little kid—curious and cheerful and bright. But his? Whoa.

  Maybe if he could get past his horror at the idea of AbaCo kidnapping a tiny child and taking her from her mother—and father—he’d be joyful at the news that he had a daughter. But instead, panic rose up to all but choke him every time he relaxed his mental guard for even a second. He didn’t have time to celebrate the news. He had to keep Michelle safe—hell, keep her alive—first. And knowing AbaCo, that was going to take every ounce of his skill and commitment.

  As for Emily, he had to give her credit. She was a great mom if her frantic need to protect her child was any indication. She hadn’t slept a wink last night after his revelation that Michelle might be in danger. Thankfully, she’d dropped off in her seat beside him about an hour ago from sheer emotional exhaustion.

  Which was a good thing. He wasn’t sure he could take much more of the sudden tension that had sprung up between them. She’d done her best to mask it, but it was clear she was annoyed with him for not showing a little more reaction—good or bad—to parenthood.

  But how could he? He had to focus all his energy on saving Michelle, to keep his mind firmly on the task at hand, which was to reach Michelle and secure the child before AbaCo found her. He’d have time to figure out how he felt about being a father later.

  He closed his eyes. Tried to catch a nap before they landed. But it was no use. He’d slept too much over the past week of recuperation, and frankly he was too wired with anxiety to sleep now. He occupied the remainder of the flight imagining possible scenarios when they landed that ranged from smooth sailing to their next flight to an armed party of AbaCo operatives jumping them in the terminal.

  In his line of work, it was all about contingency planning. About having a plan B for every situation that could possibly present itself to a covert operative like him. Then it was a simple matter of him assessing the situation and activating the appropriate response plan. No sweat, right? He’d done it a hundred times before. So why was he sitting here sweating bullets?

  It could only be the parenthood wild card. Being a father had done something weird to his gut. Something at a subliminal level that he had no control of. It was as if some violently protective switch had been flipped on toward this small person who looked so much like him.

  Under other circumstances, normal circumstances, he’d have relished these new feelings. But at the moment, jitters all but rattled him out of his seat and his mind was a jumbled mess. How was he going to save anybody in this frame of mind? He had to get control of himself! Even resorting to meditation failed him in the end.

  He couldn’t imagine how Emily was holding it together at all. She had a two-year head start on him in loving Michelle. Plus, there was that whole mother-bear-protecting-threatened-cub instinct for Emily to deal with.

  When the plane bumped onto the runway at LAX, he was relieved as Emily blinked awake to reveal grim determination in her gaze and no hint of panic. Thank goodness. He didn’t need a hysterical mother on his hands.

  They had no bags to collect and he rushed Emily through the terminal at nearly a run, keeping a sharp eye out for any pursuers. Their quick pace would force any small surveillance team to scramble and reveal themselves to a trained operative like him. Sure enough, as they approached the gate for their flight to Washington, D.C., he thought he spotted a furtive movement out of the corner of his eye. He cursed under his breath and Emily went stiff beside him.

  “Keep moving,” he muttered. “Don’t give any indication that we’ve just passed our gate.” Her head started to turn and he bit out, “Don’t look around.”

  Her head snapped forward.

  He murmured, “We’re gonna have to lose the tail before we can board our flight. Just do what I tell you to and be prepared to move fast. Got it?”

  “Yes.” She sounded on the verge of throwing up.

  “Be strong, Em. For Michelle. Be Danger Girl.”

  Her shoulders squared beside him. Good girl. Or more accurately, brave Mom.

  He proceeded to weave through the terminal, ducking through stores, reversing course abruptly and generally being a pain in the ass to follow. A couple of times he spotted AbaCo operatives dodging out of his line of sight. It looked like a three-man team. Not nearly enough to stay on a guy like him who’d figured out that he was being tailed. At least the team wasn’t trying to move in and snatch him and Emily. Not yet. Not in this public a place with the amount of security major airports boasted these days.

  For her part, Emily was a trouper, never complaining as he dragged her around like a rag doll.

  He carefully eyed the high-quality diving watch Lyle had given him. He’d have to time this practically down to the second.

  One more loop through a crowded newssta
nd, and then it was time.

  “C’mon,” he bit out under his breath. He and Emily took off running at a dead sprint through the terminal. Agony speared through his side and he prayed he hadn’t opened up the wounds. But he didn’t slow down. As they neared their gate, the final boarding call for their flight was being announced for the last time. Two gates prior to theirs, he yanked Emily down beside him, ducking below the levels of the chairs in the waiting areas. Crouched uncomfortably, the two of them duckwalked the last few yards to their gate.

  The gate agent looked alarmed as they knelt guiltily before her ticket reader, and Jagger shot her his most charming smile past the fire searing in his side. “This is my girlfriend. My soon-to-be ex-wife and her lawyer are here, looking for us.”

  Sudden understanding lit the agent’s face, and she obligingly whisked them onto the jet bridge and closed the door behind them.

  “Your girlfriend?” Emily complained as they rushed toward the jet.

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

  That seemed to give her pause. At least it rendered her silent until they dropped into their seats, panting, and the plane had taken off. But he had faith he hadn’t heard the last of it yet.

  He was right.

  “Look, Jagger. I never intended for Michelle to be your responsibility. I made the decision to have her and raise her by myself. You’re under no obligation to get involved in her life as a parent. I don’t expect it of you. You don’t have to have anything to do with either one of us if you don’t want to.”

  Irritation stabbed him and his voice was sharp as he muttered back, “You don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you?”

  She scowled. “I’m just saying I don’t necessarily expect you to dive in and embrace the whole daddy thing. I won’t even ask for child support. I’m doing fine on my own. Well, I was until I lost my job with AbaCo.” She added hastily, “Not that it’s any great loss. I couldn’t work for a company like that in good conscience knowing what I do now about it. Your kidnapping was the final straw.”

  He turned to look her full in the face. “You mean there were other straws? What all do you know about them?”

  “Quite a bit, actually.”

  Under the roar of the jet engines he asked quietly, “Do you know anything about illegal shipments they’re making?”

  She frowned. “I know stuff like the fact that most of the senior managers in my department worked together in the Stasi.”

  That shot both his brows sky-high. His mind raced. The Stasi had been the notorious secret police fist of the East German socialist regime. When East Germany had dissolved, so had the Stasi, thrusting thousands of trained covert operatives and thugs onto the street without jobs and without pensions. It had been a no-brainer that they’d turn en masse to crime. Like the KGB, which had become the core of the modern Russian mob, former Stasi agents formed the core of today’s German Mafia. Was the entire shipping company an elaborate front for a crime syndicate?

  Emily was speaking again. “The thing I can’t understand is why they held you prisoner for two years. Why didn’t they release you or just kill you?”

  He laughed without humor. “I figured that one out a long time ago. They were trying to brainwash me. To break my mind and then reprogram me into a double agent to work for them.”

  Alarm shot across her face. “Did they succeed?”

  He snorted. “Nope.” He paused and then added grimly, “And I’ve got you to thank for that. I was so fixated on my fury at you that all their efforts to crack me failed. I was too focused for their methods to work.”

  She winced. “So because you hated me, you were immune?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “I wish I had known earlier. Found some way to save you.”

  He wasn’t crazy about spending two years in a box and being beaten up and half starved. But it wasn’t as though he could change that fact at this point. It was water under the bridge. And right now he needed to focus all his energy on reaching Michelle and making her safe. He also needed Emily completely focused on the job ahead.

  He murmured soothingly, “What’s done is done, Em.”

  She subsided but continued to look troubled.

  Both of them slept for most of the transcontinental flight to Washington, D.C. He woke up when they began their descent. He had to assume AbaCo’s thugs would have figured out by now where they’d flown off to and that a welcoming committee of some kind would be waiting to greet them. A welcoming committee he’d have to lose, and fast.

  Before he and Emily could approach Michelle, he had to make absolutely sure they weren’t being followed. He dared not lead AbaCo’s men anywhere near the child. But by the same token, he doubted Emily would put up with much fooling around before she was reunited with her daughter. She might be acting fairly controlled, but he knew her well enough to know that she was pretty freaked out.

  Once they landed he planned to make contact with his headquarters. He had no intention of turning himself in now, but he had to keep the lines of communication open, to make it clear that he was going to cooperate with the government, and start planting seeds of the idea that he and Emily might have been set up and might just have some fascinating facts of their own to reveal about their accusers.

  If nothing else, Uncle Sam was gonna love picking Emily’s brains for what she could reveal about AbaCo’s “sensitive cargoes.” The U.S. had suspected for a long time that elements within AbaCo were engaged in extensive international mob activity. But nobody had ever dreamed that the entire company might be a mob front. He feared that the missing agents who’d been sent in to infiltrate AbaCo before him had met a fate similar to or worse than his. He didn’t know if he hoped they were still alive, or if, after all this time, they’d died and been put out of their misery. How long could any man stay sane living in a box?

  Hopefully, with what Emily knew, maybe the U.S. government could build a case against the shipping giant that would stick. It was worth risking jail for. If they could bring down AbaCo, their daughter would be safe once and for all. And that was worth anything.

  First he and Emily had to get Michelle safely in their custody. Then they’d deal with the charges against them and take apart AbaCo once and for all.

  They hadn’t had time during the frantic run through LAX to call Emily’s mother to check and make sure Michelle was safe, and he could only hope the woman had gotten Emily’s single urgent e-mail to lock the doors and keep Michelle inside until Emily arrived to explain everything.

  Their flight landed at Dulles International Airport and he didn’t lead Emily through any evasive measures after they disembarked. In fact, he went out of his way to act unconcerned, as if he believed they’d lost their tail in Los Angeles. He made no effort even to check for tails. In the first place, he’d be an idiot to assume anything other than they were being followed. And in the second place, he wouldn’t be able to lose the tail anyway until he and Emily had picked up their rental car and hit the road. Besides, he felt the tail behind him. Hell, he almost smelled sauerkraut in the air.

  He supposed it was technically possible that this was just paranoia and irrational fear for Michelle’s safety kicking in. But he doubted it. Either way, it didn’t make any difference in how he behaved. He stopped at a kiosk and bought an outrageously overpriced cell phone and a bunch of prepaid minutes, then calmly guided her through Dulles toward the rental car counter.

  Emily incorrectly interpreted his calm to mean they were in the clear, and she relaxed accordingly. Which suited his purposes just fine. He didn’t disabuse her of the notion that they were safe. She needed the break from her continuous panic of the past twenty-four hours.

  He drove when they left the airport. He had a sinking feeling that his specialized offensive driving skills were going to be called upon before this day was over. He pointed the car south out of the airport, winding along back roads southward into Virginia.

  “So where exactly are your
mother and Michelle in Virginia?” he queried once they were well away from the airport. “Can you find it on the map the car agent gave us and show me?”

  “Sure. They’re in Chestnut Grove.” She fumbled with the map for a minute, then pointed at a speck in the Shenandoah Valley, right in the heart of Virginia horse country.

  “We’ll stop at the next gas station and get a more detailed map of the state. I’ll need you to find three or four different routes to reach Chestnut Grove.”

  She frowned. “Are you expecting trouble?”

  He replied with false levity, “Better safe than sorry, Danger Girl.”

  Over the next half hour, he had no luck spotting the AbaCo tail. And that worried him. He went so far as to guide the car onto a highway and push the speed up to twenty miles per hour over the speed limit for a few minutes. Nobody matched their speed behind him. Swearing under his breath, he pulled over at the first rest stop they came to. The lack of a visible tail could mean only one thing.

  He sent Emily inside to buy snacks for them. Once she was out of sight, he commenced examining the car in detail to check for an electronic tracking device. It was the only explanation. AbaCo’s men were hanging back out of visual range and using a radio to follow them.

  He wasn’t at all surprised to find the small black disk magnetically attached to the top side of the muffler of their car. It was very well hidden. Professionally, in fact. But unfortunately for AbaCo, he was a pro, too.

  With the transmitter in his pocket, he strolled into the rest stop to join Emily. It was an easy enough matter to find out that the college student in the line in front of them for hamburgers was headed to Richmond. When the kid laid the keys to his rental car on the counter to pay for his food, it was even easier for Jagger to read the make, model and license plate number of the kid’s car off the key tag.