And now, as if things weren't tense enough, he caught a whiff of Lily's scent where it had no business being, and his teeth clenched with such force he was surprised they didn't crack in two. "Christ," he muttered. That was just what he needed. If he'd had half a second without the Beaumonts all yapping at him, he might have thought to wash the smell of her off his hands before setting off. The woman was messing with his mind way too much, and it was past time he quit procrastinating and did something about it. It wasn't like him to let a female distract him the way he'd allowed this one to do.

And yet…

Where the hell had she disappeared to? He'd wanted to pull her aside and have her make note of who hung around the parlor while he was gone, and who disappeared for any significant length of time. When in the midst of all the hubbub he'd turned to look for her, however, she was nowhere to be seen.

Which should give you a clue. That's your entire life in a nutshell. Gunning the engine, he shot up the drive. Barring your unit, which you know will always be here to back you up if they're able, you've got exactly one person you can depend on to be there when needed. That's you, bud. And no one else.

Miguel saw the master sergeant's SUV shoot out of the driveway and fishtail as it hit the road, and he jerked upright in his car. Dios . He'd begun to think he would fossilize here before anyone finally made a move. It had been the longest six days of his life, and as he watched the vehicle straighten out and then roar off down the road, he reached for the ignition key.

But his hand dropped back to his side before it connected, leaving the enginestill turned off.He'd only seen one person behind the tinted glass of Taylor's jeep when it had passed beneath the light at the top of the driveway. One .

The master sergeant. All by himself. Which meant the man's woman had been left behind.

Ripe for the picking.

In the past week, Miguel had made careful forays around the estate grounds, trying to figure out what was going on. He'd hadn't been successful, but he had learned that there were seven people in residence.

And the only one he had any cause to worry about had just driven off as if el diablo himself was on his trail.

Miguel opened the car door and eased out, cursing under his breath when his legs, stiff from hours of sitting in one position, nearly buckled beneath his weight. But there was no need for profanity, he decided, as he bent down to scoop up the empty food wrappers that had wafted out in his wake and tossed them back on the seat with the others. This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. And if he—how did the gringos say it?—played his cards correctly? Then his long wait was at an end.

Zach had emptied his mind of everything but the chore at hand by the time he entered Moran State Park, driving slowly beneath its white signature arch. As he approached the Midway camp area moments later, he turned off the Jeep's headlights, then coasted to a stop within the shadow of the shower house by the extra vehicle lot. He killed the engine and sat unmoving until his eyes adjusted to the night. Then he double-checked to make sure he was in the right place.

sites 31-36, the sign read. His directions were to drop off the suitcase at Site 32, which appeared to be up the hill.

He reached up and flipped the overhead light switch to "Off." Then, picking up the money satchel from the passenger seat, he eased out of the Jeep and closed the door quietly behind him, glad to see the wind had died down. Cascade Lake lapped gently at the shore across the main road as he made his silent way in the opposite direction.

The spur road to the camp area climbed steeply for a short stretch before curving to the right around the hill, but he left it before reaching that point and cut up over the bank. The site he sought was likely to be second in line just around the bend, but marching up the road in search of it didn't strike him as the shrewdest move he could make. Doing what he was trained to do seemed to him a better bet. He picked his way through the woods with care, traversing damp undergrowth and downed trees as he climbed the hill.

Moments later he squatted in the deeper shadow of an immense evergreen on the knob of the hill and looked down on Site 32. Searching for signs of life, he gave the campground below a preliminary once-over.

It could be worse. At least the fire pit where he was supposed to make the drop wasn't accessible from all sides. The hill behind it was too overgrown to negotiate with any stealth, and he had possession of the rest of the knoll where it curved around to form the second side of the site. Woods separated the third border from the next camp, and he had a clear view of the approach in front. Crouching next to a tree, Zach widened his visual inspection to include the surrounding area.

It appeared deserted, but when it came to the woods al night, there were always places to hide. Hell, the eroded bank alone a few feet to his left provided countless pockets of darkness that even his exceptional night vision couldn't penetrate. There were simply too many shadows cast by the huge uprooted trees canting down the hill.

But if the kidnapper lurked in one of them, he'd have to come out sooner or later to collect the money. Zach eased back through the woods and down the hill, then made a production out of approaching Site 32 from the road. When he'd made the drop and left, he clomped down the road. But once around the bend, he raced with swift silence back to his place on the crest of the hill, where he hunkered down to keep the bag under surveillance. He had a wealth of experience in patiently blending into the background and waiting, and that's precisely what he intended to do now.

All night long, if necessary.

As it turned out, he didn't have very long to wait. He'd only been there minutes before he heard someone making his way up the road… and not with any particular stealth. The kidnapper didn't exactly march up the middle of the road like the redcoats coming to put down the rebellion, but he may as well have done. Soles scuffed occasionally against the blacktop, and toes came into obvious contact with pinecones, for three separate times Zach heard the distinct skitter of the latter as they rolled across the pavement. When whoever it was grew closer, Zach could even discern agitated breathing.

And he was torn. This was one of those situations in which a one-man watch sucked. You never, but never took your eyes off the object of your surveillance. But neither did you bypass the opportunity to find out all the information you could about your opponent, because the more you knew, the better you could maintain the element of surprise—and sometimes that was the only advantage you had. Unfortunately the two directives were diametrically opposed since he'd have to break the first rule to accomplish the second.

Shit. It really took two to affect an airtight stakeout in a case like this.

Then Zach mentally shrugged. So, big deal; who was it likely to be but the kidnapper? And if it was someone else, going over to check it out wouldn't put him so far from the ransom bag that he couldn't intercept an approach from another direction. Crab-walking foot by careful foot, he eased over to the verge.

The already undermined bank threatened to give beneath his foremost foot, and he edged back several inches. Pulling his nine millimeter from his waistband, he rested it against his knee and peered down to where the kidnapper would come into view any moment now, if the ruckus he made was any indication.

When the person suddenly did round the bend and come into view, however, every muscle in Zach's body went ti°ht and he had to bite his tongue against voicing the obscenities that rose up in his throat. But, shit fuck hell. He'd know that head of kiss-me-daddy hair anywhere. Not to mention that walk—simply changing from her usual four inch heels into a pair of strappy, flat-heeled sandals had done nothing to disguise it.

Lily.

When he'd smelled her in the Jeep earlier, apparently it hadn't been merely the residual scent transferred from their rolling around on his bed. Zach ground his teeth. What in hell did she think she was doing putting herself in danger, and screwing up his op? Shifting his weight onto his forward foot, he glared down at her.

A rock broke loose from the edge and rattled down the bank, and he moved back before he started an avalanche. Dammit, he had to get her out of here, but how was he supposed to do that and keep an eye on the ransom at the same time?

He was so focused on her that he didn't immediately heed the small hairs rising on the back of his neck. But they were an atavistic warning system that had stood him in good stead for eighteen years, and he didn't have to hear the faint crack of a branch on the ground behind him to realize that Lily wasn't the only one in the woods with him. Bringing his gun up, he was turning toward the sound when a light suddenly flashed on and caught him full in the face, blinding him. He aimed just to the left of the dazzling circle of light, but down on the road Lily screamed his name, and there was such fear in her voice that for one ill-advised moment he froze. Jesus. He couldn't see a thing.

He could hear the footsteps rushing him, however, and his finger once again exerted pressure on the trigger. But before he could squeeze off a shot, the light flared in an arc, and the side of his head exploded in agony.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 17

AWASH IN A STEW OF FIGHT-GR-FLIGHT impulses, Lily froze. Seeing Zach spotlighted above her, his profile fierce and a gun the size of a cannon to her unaccustomed eyes in his hand, adrenaline shot through her system with such force she thought her heart would burst. As if she needed another reason to be scared out of her wits! She was already completely freaked by how out of her element she was—to have him suddenly pop up on the hill like an illuminated commando frieze in some avant-garde West Hollywood production darn near made her wet her knickers.