Baby Trouble. Beth Cornelison

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      He supposed she had a point. They couldn’t be too careful at this late date. He relaxed and watched the city lights pass by outside. Washington really was a lovely city, a gracefully aging lady.

      Agent Morris was on his feet, gun in hand and leveled at their chests, when they walked through the door to their suite. Nick nodded his approval as the guy lowered his weapon.

      “You two are back early. Everything okay?” the FBI man asked.

      Laura shrugged. “I made it through cocktails, but I’m not comfortable being away from Ellie. I convinced Nick to bring me back here for a quiet dinner in our room.”

      Morris nodded in sympathy. “How about I go take a nap with our little princess? Then I’ll be in good shape to stand watch through the night. And in the mean time, you two could probably use a little privacy.”

      As the agent retreated, Nick called room service and ordered dinner.

      He joined Laura at the desk in the corner of the living room as she booted up her laptop and plugged in the thumb drive she’d found inside the gift box. A long list of file names scrolled across her screen.

      “How’s it look?” he asked.

      “If the files contain what their titles suggest they will, we’ve got a whole lot of dirt on AbaCo we didn’t have an hour ago.”

      “Anything jump out at you that might have something to do with Adam’s kidnapping?” he asked.

      She typed quickly. “I’m going to do a sort for files created in the past year. The start date for the search will be the day you were released.”

      She undoubtedly didn’t mean for that subtle note of blame to enter her voice, but it did. His gut twisted at the notion that his liberation was in some way the cause of Adam’s predicament. He had to make it up to the boy, and to Laura. Adam had to be okay.

      As she continued to type in what looked like a long list of random words, he asked, “What are you doing now?”

      “Setting up keywords for the computer to search for within the files. The guys at AbaCo aren’t likely to run around talking about kidnapping openly. They’ll use euphemisms like ‘picking up a package’ or ‘moving perishable goods.’”

      Nick snorted. He’d felt like perishable goods plenty of times, sailing around in that damned shipping container. Laura threw him an apologetic glance.

      “I’ve also set up a sorting algorithm to copy and organize all the content on this drive. It’ll take a few minutes to run.” She sighed heavily. “In the meantime, I think you and I need to go over the events from immediately before your kidnapping.”

      He jolted in alarm. “But I don’t remember—”

      “Yes, but I do. I thought I’d tell you everything I can remember and see if it jogs any memories for you or if you remember anything about some detail that might be important.”

      Her suggestion made sense, but why did she sound so reluctant to revisit what had supposedly been a torrid and thrilling affair? “You’re making me nervous. What’s so terrible about our time together in Paris that you haven’t told me?”

      “You truly don’t remember any of it?” she asked in a small voice.

      “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

      She waved off his apology and took a deep breath. “You saved my life the night we met.”

      “What?” Shock poured through him. “How?”

      “My CIA field partner and I were attacked and you came out of nowhere. You grabbed our elbows and told us to come with you or die. Kent shook off your hand and demanded to know who you were.”

      Nick frowned. “I thought you types worked alone. You had a partner?”

      Unaccountably, she blushed slightly. “Certain operations were best suited for couples.”

      Ahh. Damn. But it wasn’t like he was in any position to cast the first stone at her. He had a wife floating around in his past. Of course an extraordinary woman like Laura had other men in her life. He asked as lightly as he could manage past his abruptly hoarse throat, “Were you two a couple?”

      “Were. Past tense by then. The demands of keeping our roles as coworkers and lovers separate was too much strain on the relationship.”

      “Why did I grab you two?”

      Laura frowned. “It was late at night. It had been raining and the streets were mostly deserted. We were in the Quartier Latin—the Student Quarter. Lots of winding little streets and alleys. Several men had just come around a corner about a block ahead of us, and you materialized by my side. You must have come up from behind us. When Kent jumped away from you, you wrapped your arms around me and yanked me into an alley.”

      “Why did you come with me when your partner didn’t?”

      She smiled a little in recollection. “You were extremely handsome. Not many girls would mind having a man like you throw your arms around them and drag them off.”

      Nick frowned, scouring his mind for the slightest recollection of what she was describing. He came up blank. Frustrated he asked, “Then what happened?”

      “I heard a noise in the street. Then a scuffle. Kent shouted something. It sounded like the beginning of my name. Then it cut off. And then nothing more.”

      “What did you and I do?”

      “At the first sound of fighting, you pulled me down the alley. By the time Kent went quiet, you didn’t have to pull me anymore. You had a car not far away and we drove off into the night. The rest is, as they say, history.”

      Misery filled her dark gaze and Nick moved quickly to embrace her. “Talk to me. What’s so upsetting to you?”

      “I left him, Nick. I abandoned Kent. I should have stayed and fought. Maybe the two of us could’ve bested whoever jumped him.”

      Oh, how well he knew the world of regret and self-recrimination. “Sweetheart, what’s done is done. It’s just as possible that the two of you would have lost that fight. Whatever fate met your partner could also have befallen you. There’s no way of knowing. I assume you did your best to find out what happened to him?”

      “The CIA and I turned Paris on its head looking for him. But he was just … gone. Very much like how you disappeared. He’s never been seen or heard from since.”

      Nick frowned. “Is there any chance he was kidnapped like I was?”

      She shrugged. “I suppose. We know AbaCo held more prisoners over the years than the dozen or so they’ve released in the past twelve months. For all I know, there are more men and women just like you still floating around in international waters where law enforcement agencies can’t touch them.”

      “Maybe we’ll find the rest of them in the files Kloffman gave us.”

      “God, I hope so,” she muttered.

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