The couple with the triplets had been the last clients she intended to see for a while. She’d arranged with another midwife to handle her practice for the next three months. After that, Olivia would ease back into a regular schedule. Handling a newborn and working wouldn’t be easy, but she was better prepared than most new mothers and had great connections for child care.
She’d almost talked herself into a state of calm when she pulled into the wide gravel driveway outside her detached garage. On the other side of her withered attempt at an herb garden was her two-bedroom, ranch-style cabin. Before she turned off the engine, she noticed that the light in her bedroom was on. Had she forgotten to turn it off this morning? It didn’t seem likely. When she’d left the house this morning, it was already daylight. Had she remembered to lock the doors? Was somebody inside, waiting for her?
Her fingers tensed on the steering wheel as she considered driving away and getting help. She’d look like a fool if there was nothing wrong, but it was better to be ridiculous than to take risks.
A black SUV drove up beside her and parked. She didn’t recognize the vehicle. Her first impulse was to throw her car into Reverse and zoom away, but she didn’t have time. The instant the SUV parked, a man got out—a tall man with neat-trimmed black hair and a square jaw. It was Troy.
He strolled up to her driver’s side window, and she lowered it. She was glad to see him. If there was an intruder in her house, she could do worse than having a marine to defend her.
“The light in my bedroom window,” she said. “I’m sure I didn’t leave it on this morning.”
“Stay in the car.” His easygoing grin disappeared. “If there’s trouble, I want you to drive away fast. Call 911.”
She didn’t like being chased away from her own house, but she nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“Take care of the situation.”
“Wait.” She detached the house key from her key chain and handed it to him. “You need this to get inside.”
“Not really.”
“Please don’t kick my door down.”
He pocketed the key, pushed aside his tan windbreaker and drew an automatic weapon from a belt holster. His approach to the house was quick and stealthy, keeping to the shadows. Why was he carrying a gun?
* * *
A PPROACHING THE CABIN , Troy forgot about pleading his case for marriage to Olivia and went into warrior mode. After fourteen years in special ops and military intelligence, he was always on high alert. The world was full of threats. His job was to neutralize the danger.
First, he needed to clear the perimeter around her house. Being careful not to walk in front of windows and present himself as a target, he held his weapon at the ready as he circled the rectangular log cabin with the shake shingle roof.
He’d been to this house only once before, and that was a brief visit. He knew that Olivia had zero security. Any of the windows could be easily opened, and the door locks could be picked by a third-grader with a paper clip.
When he was satisfied that no one was lurking outside the house, he prepared to enter. This was the tricky part. If the intruders waited inside for an ambush, they’d have weapons trained on the door. Troy would have preferred going through a window but the casements were chest-high and climbing through would require both hands. Remembering her wish that he not destroy her property, he used the key, shoved the front door open and stepped back, using the solid log wall as a shield.
No gunfire. No sound from within. He rushed the entrance and went through the house, room by room, closet by closet, turning on lights as he went. The house was all clear. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t been robbed.
On his prior visit, he hadn’t made it as far as the bedroom, and he took a moment to look around. The furniture was traditional but not plain—a reflection of Olivia, who was a mix of sweet homespun and aggressive independence. He ran his fingertips across the front of a wardrobe that was painted with vines and purple columbines. The lamp on her bedside table had shiny crystals dangling from the shade.
If intruders had turned that lamp on, they would have been here after dark. Not that long ago. He hoped there hadn’t been a break-in. More likely, this was a simple case of Olivia leaving the light on and forgetting that she’d done so. Still, he knew better than to dismiss a threat without thoroughly checking it out.
The second bedroom was painted a soft blue, not unlike the color of her eyes. It was the nursery, the room where his baby boy would sleep. Would their son have her eyes? Troy swallowed the lump in his throat that came whenever he thought of the baby. Never in his life had he been the least bit sentimental, and he’d given considerable thought to why he was touched by the idea of having a family.
His age had something to do with these feelings. On his last birthday, Troy turned thirty-six. In most professions, he’d still be considered young, but that wasn’t true for special ops. His vision wasn’t as sharp as it should be for a sniper. His reflexes had slowed by a few milliseconds, enough that it made a difference. He wasn’t at his physical peak, and he realized that it was time for him to step back and take a more supervisory role. Becoming a father and having a family seemed like the natural next step in his life.
He liked the simple, clean furnishings in the nursery: a dark oak crib, matching changing table and rocking chair. Seated in the rocker was the teddy bear he’d sent—fuzzy and brown and dressed in camo fatigues. He wanted to see his son holding the bear, wanted to show him how to play catch and to take him fishing. He wanted to be a real part of his child’s life. Somehow, he had to convince Olivia.
He returned to her SUV where she had prudently stayed behind the steering wheel with the doors locked. With wide eyes, she peered through the driver’s side window.
“There’s nobody inside,” he said. He looked to the next obvious hiding place for an intruder. “Do you usually park in the garage?”
“Not when the weather is nice.”
“Leave your headlights on and hit the automatic door opener.”
Holding his weapon at the ready, he moved to the side of the square structure. The garage door squawked and rumbled as it folded up on itself. The interior held the typical junk that accumulates in a garage as well as ski equipment and a very nice mountain bike with heavy-duty tires.
Troy noticed the outline of a footprint in the dust on the concrete floor. It appeared to be a man-size boot, too large for Olivia. The print could have been made today or last week or a month ago. He checked the side door to the garage. It was open.
“Olivia,” he called to her. “Is this door usually locked?”
“It should be,” she yelled back to him. “But I usually don’t bother.”
None of the boxes or tools in the garage looked like they’d been disturbed. If an intruder had searched in here, he’d been incredibly careful. And why bother being so stealthy in a garage? It didn’t make sense.
Troy decided against mentioning the footprint. Not right now, anyway. He returned to her SUV. “I think we’re okay.”
“Are you sure? Could you tell if anything was stolen?”
“It doesn’t look like it.” Her nervousness seemed out of proportion for a light left on in a window, and it wasn’t like her to panic for no reason. “What’s going on? Have you been threatened before this?”
“Why would I be threatened? I’m just a midwife.”
As she pushed open her car door and climbed out, his gaze focused on her belly. He hadn’t