The Baby's Bodyguard. Stephanie Newton

survive. The attack on her village in Rwanda wasn’t something she talked about—ever. She was obviously more affected by the events of today than she thought, for that event to be up front, right there, in her mind. “It was a long time ago. I lived overseas with my parents. Things are different in third-world countries.”

      She slanted a look at Gracie, whose blue eyes didn’t miss anything.

      “If you want to talk about it, that’s literally what I’m here for. Sometimes it helps to talk.” A wry smile curved Gracie’s lips. “And, according to Tyler, sometimes it helps to beat the living daylights out of something. He leads a hand-to-hand combat class on the back lawn every morning. Because I insist, we also have tai chi on the beach at sunset. You know you’re welcome here, Kelsey.”

      Kelsey drew in a deep breath. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”

      “I think I do.” Gracie unfolded herself from the chair and gestured to a different door from the one they came in. “That door also leads back to your room. Since you have the baby, you should consider this room as part of your personal space. I’m going to check on the men and head back to my quarters. We do have guests at the moment, so I’ll be back here in a couple of hours to help Tyler with breakfast.”

      “Thanks.” Kelsey stood, hugging Gracie. The same early life lessons that had taught her to roll with the punches and put the past behind her had taught her to show affection when she felt it. She’d learned she might not have another chance.

      Gracie squeezed. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep as late as you want. I’ll save you something.”

      A laugh snorted out. “Oh, I wish. Janie has—for the most part—slept through all the excitement tonight. I have a feeling she’ll be up in time to help Tyler with the pancakes.”

      At the door, Gracie turned back, blond curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Oh, I figured you left in a hurry, so there are a few things for you in the dresser.”

      Gracie left the door open. Kelsey laid her head on the oversized arm of the sofa. Tyler and Gracie had both said she was safe here, that Janie was safe here. What an amazing feeling, to be able to relax her guard, even for just a few minutes.

      She closed her eyes. Today had been such a long day and she was so very tired. Maybe she would rest just a minute before she went to find those clothes.

      The smell of bacon and coffee roused Ethan from the small bit of restless sleep he’d managed. His brother had fired questions at him for over an hour about what had happened, how they would keep Kelsey safe and what they would need to accomplish it. He’d walked out on Tyler once the police called and said they had evidence that at least one of the hitmen had been injured. Lots of bullet holes, but no casings. These guys were definitely professionals.

      All the while he’d kept turning the mystery over and over in his mind. Who took his child? And how had they managed it right under the noses of his team and left virtually no trace?

      Who had left a tiny toddler—a sick one, no less—alone in a boat for him to find, along with the information about his son? He wondered about the intentions of the person who would do such a thing. Could they possibly be good?

      Obviously he was now on the search for his son, and Janie would get the medical care that she needed. He still couldn’t understand why he or she would go to such lengths to get his attention. Surely a meeting at a coffeehouse would’ve worked just as well.

      There were too many questions. Too little information. He might be stuck here, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have goals—to find his son and close a case that was apparently putting them all at risk.

      Charlie was the one thing he hadn’t talked with Tyler about last night. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Tyler would believe … maybe he just wanted to keep it close to his heart for a little while longer.

      His phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the readout. Restricted number.

      A sense of excitement mixed with foreboding as he pushed the send button. “Clark.”

      “Ethan Clark?” The voice raised the hair on his arms. He knew this voice. The last time he’d heard it was on the phone, making the arrangements for the day on the night his wife was murdered.

      His lip twitched involuntarily. “Hello, Cantori.”

      “Well, of course, I don’t go by that name now, but it will do for these purposes.”

      “How did you get this number?” Ethan didn’t think he could manage a civil conversation much longer.

      “A mutual friend gave it to me.”

      Ethan’s fingers went cold. Who had he talked to that had talked to Tony Cantori? It could’ve been one of the FBI agents in Mobile. It could’ve been one of the police officers in Destin or Sea Breeze. It could even have been his partner. “What do you want, Cantori?”

      “Stay away from this case. I’m speaking as one friend to another. You’ve suffered enough.”

      “What are you talking about?” The fact that this man would still threaten him made him sick.

      The low chuckle rolled over Ethan like an evil wave. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Ethan. Watch your back. And keep a careful eye on those you love.” His old enemy hung up the phone.

      Ethan stared at it in his hand. Then stuffed it in his back pocket.

      He needed to find his brother downstairs. And he needed to find his son. Had he put Charlie in danger again by following up on this?

      But what was his other choice? Not following through?

      His fingers curled into a fist. Barely, he resisted punching it through the wall.

      He needed to find Tyler ASAP, and he had a good idea that his brother could be found in the kitchen. As he walked down the hall, he heard a noise from Kelsey’s room. Babble, babble, babble. Silence. A little louder: babble, babble, babble. Squeal.

      How was Kelsey sleeping through that?

      As he went a little farther down the hall, he glanced into an open door. Kelsey lay curled in the corner of a sofa in a small sitting room, still in the clothes she’d worn the night before. She was sound asleep, her arm flung out beside her.

      She was cute. Her dark hair curled almost to her waist. She wore casual sweatpants and a T-shirt that had a picture of Africa holding up two fingers like a peace sign. He was pretty sure he’d seen a celebrity wearing that on the cover of a magazine. Definition of an oxymoron?

      Janie squealed again. Kelsey rolled onto her side and tucked her fist under her cheek. She wouldn’t sleep through that noise for long.