The man's hands tightened on the stock of the gun. "Who the hell are you? And what the hell do you want?"

The guy was nervous, and he was an amateur, neither of which was a condition Zach appreciated in someone pointing a gun at him. Seeing the young man's finger slide off the trigger to tap restlessly against the stock, Zach whipped out a hand and wrenched the shotgun sideways, relieving him of it with a single, supple twist of his wrist.

The man swore and made a grab for it in an attempt to regain possession.

Fending him off, Zach broke open the barrel, slid out the two rounds of shot, then snapped the barrels back into place and passed the shotgun back to the other man. "My name is Zachariah Taylor," he said. "Master Sergeant, U.S. Marines," he added, hoping the fact he had the authority of the United States government behind him would help to cool the other man's jets. The guy looked as if he were about to jump out of his skin. "I'm here to see my sister Giynnis."

He felt Lily unhook her fingers from his waistband where she'd anchored herself, and the warmth of her breasts dissipated as she peeled herself off his back. He barely had time to register the fact, however, before a woman in her late fifties materialized in the doorway.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she said as tears trembled on her lower lashes and her pale, fine-boned hands systematically shredded a lace-and-lawn handkerchief between them. Then she bunched the hankie in one hand as she reached out and grasped his arm with the other. She tugged him into the foyer, then stared up at him hopefully as the young man closed the door behind them. "Have you heard from him, then? Have you news of my David?"

Damn. He didn't like the sound of this. "No, ma'am."

"Oh, no!" An unchecked noise escaped her, and he realized this was the voice he'd heard on the edge of hysteria.

"Take a deep breath, ma'am," he ordered in the same I- will –be-obeyed tone he'd used throughout the years to get more than one green recruit over a hurdle of nerves. "Take nice, deep breaths and let them out slowly. Then tell me what's going on here."

She sucked in air but didn't look appreciably steadier for her efforts once she'd exhaled it. Nevertheless, she drew in and exhaled another, then faced him as calmly as she was able. "They've been kidnapped," she said, her chin immediately beginning to wobble. "Oh, God, oh, God. David and his little girlfriend have been kidnapped ."

Dios, it was cold. Miguel rubbed his hands up and down his arms and wished he had warmer clothing. He missed his beloved Colombia, where the heat sank into a man's bones, and wondered in dissatisfaction if Master Sergeant Oh-Such-a-Big-Man Taylor and his anemic woman had finally reached the destination they'd been heading for ever since leaving California. He certainly-hoped so, because the sooner he accomplished his mission, the sooner he could reclaim his rightful status and return to his village with his pride intact.

He was tempted to gel out of the car and make his way down the driveway where the master sergeant had parked a short while ago, to see if that was where the marine was now. Except it was the dilemma last night at the campground all over again. He didn't dare abandon his car for fear he'd be caught unprepared should the commander suddenly return. And he couldn't park too close for the same reason that had kept him a respectable distance for two long days—an unwillingness to give the game away before he was ready to make his move. As it was, he'd practically driven right up the Jeep's back bumper in his race to catch up earlier, when he'd feared he'd lost them and had instead came across the vehicle unexpectedly parked in the middle of the road. He'd wheeled into the first private drive he'd seen and waited until he'd heard their car drive away before pulling out again. Then he'd found a better place from which he could not only keep an eye on this road but screen his car from the casual glance.

As soon as he determined this was indeed the master sergeant's final destination, he planned to make a quick trip to the nearest town to outfit himself properly for the climate. It wouldn't be long now before the opportunity arose to grab the woman and get out of here, but he needed appropriate supplies while he waited. He pulled the thin blanket he'd found in the trunk around him and turned the car on for a short while to use the heater. The thought of the master sergeant's face when he was relieved of his woman made Miguel smile. Soon, he promised himself. It would be very soon now.

But when he turned off the car's engine to conserve his remaining petrol a moment later, the cold settled right back in his bones. And he knew it couldn't be soon enough. For if he didn't make his move before long, he was likely to freeze his buttocks off in this unaccustomed, inhospitable climate.

Zach felt as if he'd taken a direct hit to the gut, and he stared at the stylish matron in front of him. "Kidnapped?"

The young man who'd greeted them at the door with the shotgun stepped forward, sliding a supporting arm around the older woman's shoulders. He flipped his shiny brown hair off his brow with a toss of his head that had the unconscious look of habit. "That was the reason for this," he said, giving the now empty gun in his hand a small heft. "When you showed up practically on the heels of the note we received, we thought you must be them. I'm Richard Beaumont," he added, thrusting out his hand. "David's cousin. And this is David's mother, Maureen."

Two other women and a man came out of a connecting room to join them in the foyer, and Richard introduced them as his sisters Cassidy and Jessica, and Jessica's husband Christopher.

Zach filed away his impression of a flashy brunette, a plain brunette, and a guy who could've stepped off the pages of Gentleman's Quarterly to be examined later as Mrs. Beaumont said, "David called us several days ago. He said he'd met his future wife in California and was bringing her home to meet us. It seemed so sudden—we were concerned she'd turn out to be one of those awful, flashy, starlet types, or a golddigger who'd latched on to him for his money." Then, obviously recalling the female in question was Zach's sister, color flooded the older woman's face.

Lily's abrupt whoop of laughter echoed in the pocket of silence that followed, and shock rippled through the assembled group as everyone turned to look at her. Even after two solid days of travel, with most of her makeup worn off and her hair tousled and slightly flattened on one side, she still had that last-of-the-red-hot mamas look about her, and it occurred to Zach that she probably appeared to be the exact type the Beaumonts had feared his sister would be. As it was, Mrs. Beaumont regarded Lily as if she'd stepped directly out of Bimbo Central Casting, and if his stomach hadn't been tied up in about ten kinds of knots, he might have gotten a real kick out of her predicament.

It was just as well he was in no mood, however, for it would have been premature anyway. Aside from that one brief moment this afternoon, he'd never seen Lily at a loss for words, and she wasn't now. She directed a gentle smile at David's mother

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "That was terribly inappropriate, and I'm not making light of the situation. It's just that Zach spent the entire drive from California fearing the exact same thing—that David was after his sister's money," she clarified when the older woman just stared at her blankly. "Glynnis is about to come into a considerable fortune of her own."

Mrs. Beaumont blinked. "Oh," she said. Then she turned pale. "Oh, dear. I wonder if the people who have them know that. You can't stay here," she said in a sudden panic, turning to Zach. She made agitated shooing motions with her hands. "You have to leave."

Zach focused the full force of his attention on her. "I'm not going anywhere until I find my sister, ma'am," he informed her levelly. He'd camp out on her lawn if he had to.

"You must!" She looked beside herself with fear as she stared up at him. "They'll think we called you. and they said not to call the police if we want to see David again. What if they're watching the house? If they see you. they'll think we ignored their warning.

Not about to be run off before he knew the entire story—and probably not even then, since after one look at this crew he'd decided he was the best candidate for getting Glynnis and David back in one piece—Zach took Mrs. Beaumont's restless hands between his own and stroked his thumbs over them as he said slowly and calmly, "That kind of threat is a common ploy intended to keep the victim off kilter, ma'am. Extortionists count on your emotions clouding your ability to reason, but it's important that you use this time to think as rationally as you can. For instance, take a good, hard look at Lily. Can you honestly imagine anyone ever confusing her for a cop?"

Too late, he remembered Lily's level-eyed way of meeting even the most disapproving scrutiny head on. But she played along as if she knew just how much he needed to stay here in order to exert some control over the situation. With every eye in the house turned on her, she stood with one hip cocked, studying her manicure as if she were alone in the foyer. Her jaw moved subtly, and if he hadn't known better he would have sworn she was chewing gum.

When Zach saw Mrs. Beaumont relax marginally, he eased out a breath, and said, "I need you to tell me exactly what led you to believe your son and Glynnis were abducted."

"We received a note about twenty minutes before you showed up." She hesitated, then gestured toward the room the others had come out of a moment ago. "Let's go in the parlor."