Sam’s first letter had arrived the day Kate had discovered she was pregnant. He had been about to leave for a training mission somewhere in the South Pacific. His life was taking the direction he had planned. She’d been able to sense his smile in the words he’d written.
She’d known he would have come back if she had told him about the baby. That’s just the kind of man he was. Noble, dependable, determined-to-get-his-way Sam. He would have insisted on doing the honorable thing and getting married.
But he’d just freed himself from the responsibility of raising his brother and supporting his mother. He’d been so eager to embark on his new life as a SEAL, how could she tie him down?
And how could she tie herself to a man who didn’t love her? Sure, they’d been great together in bed—and anywhere else they could find to be alone—but a physical attraction was no basis for a long-term relationship. Getting married just for the sake of a baby would only lead to resentment and bitterness. That’s what her parents had done. Kate had grown up vowing never to follow her mother’s example, never to be dependent on any man. Especially one who didn’t love her.
So Kate had never answered Sam’s letter. She had returned unopened the ones that had followed. And after a while, the letters had stopped coming. He didn’t try to contact her again.
He had kept his promise.
And so had Kate. She was still convinced she had made the right choice. She had fully intended to raise her child alone, even if it meant giving up her dream of advancing in her career.
But then fate had stepped in. She had lost the baby.
She sniffed hard and wiped her arm across her eyes, then dropped her hand to the chain around her neck. Her fingers rubbed the delicate charm that lay against her breastbone. She had made the motion so often the gold was becoming worn, yet the butterfly’s wings still arched as if caught in mid-flutter.
She had bought the charm when she’d left the hospital after the miscarriage. It was her way of honoring the fragile life of the baby she had carried. She had worn it under her uniform, keeping the token as private as she had kept her grief.
Then she had chopped off her hair, sucked up the pain and focused on the career she’d always dreamed of.
Kate pushed herself to her feet. Focus. That’s what she needed to do. Her duty had gotten her through the most painful episode of her life. It would do the same now.
The next time she went running, she would take a different route.
And considering the way she had rebuffed Sam’s tentative overtures when he’d stopped at the coast the night before, chances were she wouldn’t see Sam Coburn for another five years.
“The Montebellan police have the public airport locked down. Every passenger is going through a rigorous security check.” Sam walked to the high-scale map of Montebello that hung from one wall of the base commander’s office. He tapped his index finger against the location of the airport, then moved his hand toward the southeast shore of the island. “The private strip at the oil field is heavily guarded, as well.”
Admiral Howe steepled his fingers and leaned back behind his desk. His bulldog features appeared to be set in a perpetual frown, even though he nodded in approval. “Good. Have you gathered any more information on the suspect?”
“Yes, sir. The FBI obtained Ursula Chambers’s driver’s license photograph from the Colorado DMV and faxed it to me thirty minutes ago.”
“Got someone out of bed there, did you?”
Sam grimaced as he opened the file folder he had brought with him. There was a seven-hour time difference between Montebello and Virginia. The clerk he had reached at Quantico hadn’t been eager to chase down the Colorado people in what had been the middle of the night there.
That’s when Sam had discovered one of the advantages of working for royalty. When the clerk had learned that Sam had the full weight of the king of Montebello behind him, the request had been filled within the hour.
“No problem, sir,” Sam said, handing the admiral two items from the folder. “As you can see, the photograph closely matches the artist’s sketch of the suspect.”
Howe took the photo and the sketch from Sam and studied them briefly. “Yes, the features are very distinctive.”
“The police are in the process of distributing copies of the photograph as well as the suspect’s vital statistics to the security forces stationed at the airports.”
Howe laid the papers on his desk. “Chambers is a striking woman. She should be easy to spot.”
“Apparently she has had acting experience, so it’s possible that she has disguised herself. But since she killed Caruso, who according to Gretchen Hanson was their main contact in Montebello, she probably doesn’t have the resources or the connections here to obtain a false passport or other identification. Therefore it’s highly unlikely that Chambers will be able to slip past the security that’s in place at the airport in order to escape Montebello by air.”
“Excellent.”
“That leaves the water.” Sam turned to the map. “We’ve alerted the cruise lines and other passenger ships. Police will be stationed at the ports, but we need to intensify the patrol of the coastline.”
“King Marcus phoned me this morning to express his concern about that. Which is the main reason I’ve asked you here, Lieutenant Coburn. The king decided this mission requires a Navy officer who is more familiar with Montebello.”
Sam moved in front of Howe’s desk and clasped his hands behind his back. As much as he would have liked to continue the leave that had been interrupted by the king’s request for his assistance, he didn’t want to be relieved of his duty before he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. He didn’t like leaving things unfinished. “This mission is still in the early stages, sir. Given the geography of Montebello, it was my understanding that the king was aware of the difficulties—”
“Relax, Lieutenant. King Marcus is pleased with your conduct so far. He still feels your training is a valuable asset in the search for the fugitive. In fact, he wants to give you some help.”
“Admiral?”
Before Howe could explain, there was a sharp rap on the door. Ensign Gordon, the apple-cheeked young man who was Howe’s aide, took a step into the room. “Lieutenant Mulvaney is here, sir.”
Howe glanced at his watch. “Good. Right on time. Show her in.”
Sam turned to face the door. Kate was here? Why now? That was the second time in less than a day he’d asked himself that question.
And for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she took his breath away.
He had never seen her in her uniform. They had been on leave when they’d met, and they’d spent most of their time wearing as little as possible. It was difficult to reconcile the image in his memory to the tall, slim woman with lieutenant’s bars on her sleeves. The dress blues complemented her coloring, making her eyes look greener and her hair appear a fiery shade of auburn. Her chin was up, her shoulders back, and she appeared to be the epitome of a confident, successful naval officer.
Yet when Sam looked at her, he saw the woman who had once writhed in his arms. He felt Florida breezes and smelled gardenias.
She saluted Admiral Howe, giving him a crisp yet cordial greeting. She nodded politely to Sam, then gave the admiral her complete attention.
Once again, Sam felt a twinge of irritation. She was behaving appropriately for the circumstances, so he couldn’t fault her for that. They were on duty. It wasn’t the place for familiarity.
Yet they hadn’t been on duty the night before when he’d driven her to the hotel where they had their quarters, and she’d treated him the same way. The memory