Secret Agent Dad. Metsy Hingle

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      Prologue

      The blood in Blake Hunt’s veins chilled at the sound of a baby’s whimper coming from the backseat of his car. He’d learned a major lesson in the past forty-eight hours—bachelors and babies did not mix. Given a choice, he’d rather face a firing squad than the four-month-old twins strapped m the seats behind him.

      “Why couldn’t I get a simple assignment—like disarming a band of terrorists?” Pressing one booted foot to the accelerator, he sent the sedan speeding down the dark Texas road, barely visible in the heavy rainstorm courtesy of La Niña.

      Bone tired from the mission he’d undertaken on behalf of the Alpha Team and his brother Greg, Blake replayed the escape from the palace in his head. Even with his training as a former Cobra, getting the royal twins out of the tiny principality of Asterland where they had been held hostage had not been an easy task. But he’d done it. He’d rescued the motherless babies and thwarted Prince Ivan’s plans to use them in his plot to gain control of the kingdom of Oberland. And in less than two hours, weather permitting, his end of the mission would be completed. They would be in Royal, Texas, and he would gladly turn the pair over to their aunt.

      Another whimper cut through his musings. Despite the November cold, sweat beaded across his brow. He lifted his gaze heavenward. Please. Don’t let them wake up again. The whimper escalated to a wail. “So much for prayers,” he muttered.

      “Hang on a second, sugar britches,” he soothed, dividing his attention between the blue-eyed babies seated behind him and the storm-ravaged road stretched out before him. He negotiated the sedan around another curve and swore as a fist of wind came at him and nearly tossed them off the road. Gripping the steering wheel, Blake fought to steady the car while he braced himself for the second baby to join its twin’s protests. As if on cue the other baby began to howl, and the wails continued in chorus. Blake still didn’t know which was worse—the nerve-wrenching cries of the twins or driving through the worst rainstorm to hit West Texas since Noah had piloted his ark.

      Sighing, he darted another glance at the healthy-lunged duo seated behind him. An unexpected warmth spread through him as he looked at the tiny pair all bundled up in the ugly camouflage jackets he’d put on them in their escape from the palace. Miranda—he was sure it had to be that future heartbreaker—stretched out her little arms toward him.

      Blake’s heart did a nosedive.

      “Shh. It’s okay, sugar. Uncle Blake’s here.” Unfastening his seat belt, he stretched one arm behind him to stroke her tiny hands with his finger. Despite the contact, she continued to sob. And each one of those pitiful sobs ripped right through him. Nearly frantic, he tried to think what to do. “Pacifiers!” Groping in the diaper bag on the seat beside him, his fingers closed around a rubber nipple. “Here you go,” he said, managing to pop it in her mouth.

      He was debating whether to stop and get the other nipple for Edward, when the baby stopped crying, and started to doze off. Relieved, Blake directed his attention back to the road and frowned. The weather appeared to be worse now than when he’d started out from the airport where he’d landed his plane earlier. The usually dry gullies were filling rapidly. Never once in his thirty years could he remember weather like this in West Texas. But he couldn’t stop and wait for it to blow over. He had to get home—to Royal—tonight. His brother Greg and the Alpha Team, all members of the exclusive Texas Cattleman’s Club, were counting on him. So was Princess Anna.

      Another glance at the backseat revealed the twosome were asleep. Anger twisted inside him as he thought about Prince Ivan and his attempts to use them. From what he’d learned of the man, the prince would not be a gracious loser. “Don’t you two worry. Uncle Blake won’t let him get anywhere near you again. I promise.”

      Rain pummeled the car like fists, making it nearly impossible to see the road. The windshield wipers worked furiously, offering him only split-second views of the road. His thoughts still on the prince, Blake didn’t see the shattered arm of a windmill in the road until he was almost on top of it. He whipped the wheel to his left, just missing it. Struggling to maintain control, he began applying the brakes. A blast of wind slapped at the car from behind and sent the sedan skidding sideways across the road. Blake fought to keep the car from flipping over, but there was no way to avoid hitting the low bridge over the creek. He slammed into the railing, and the car pivoted and began skidding down the shoulder. The babies screamed. Blake lurched forward, cracking his head against the windshield before the car came to a halt.

      Dazed, blood trickling down his forehead, the frightened cries of the babies pierced his fogged senses. The twins! He had to get the twins. Fighting pain and the darkness that threatened to engulf him, Blake shoved against the door. It opened, and he fell to his knees in mud and water. He tried to stand, but the wind slammed him back against the car. His head struck the door, and pain exploded in his skull. His vision blurred. Clutching his head in his hands, he slumped to the ground, unaware of his wallet falling beside him, of the wind tossing the black billfold down toward the creek and into the rushing water.

      And as the rain beat down over him, Blake succumbed to the beckoning darkness.