Cord knew the situation merited more than a phone call. It didn’t make him feel any better. “Care to have a seat?”
“No, thanks. I can only stay a minute.”
Tessa’s eyes met Cord’s. He sensed her rising dismay, but there was nothing he could do. The helpless feeling was hateful to him, and strange. “What can you tell me about my brother?”
“Not much, I’m afraid.”
“Can’t tell us because you don’t know where he is?”
“We have communicated with your brother.”
Tessa gasped, her face pale. Cord reached out and took her hand tightly in his, offering his strength to her. “So he’s alive?”
John looked at Cord oddly. “We have no reason to believe otherwise.”
“I see.” Cord nodded, his expression grim. “We had reason to believe otherwise the other night.”
“Oh?”
“Two men came to my door claiming to be military personnel. They informed me of my brother’s heroic death and asked for his fiancée’s address so they might inform her.”
John hesitated. “I don’t have to tell you that this is worrisome.” He glanced from Tessa to Cord. “That someone would go to those lengths…is an unanticipated complication.”
“I would think so,” Cord said dryly. “Can you tell us what cat-and-mouse game we’re involved in? Is there any information the military would care to divulge since it appears my brother’s fiancée may be in danger?”
His voice was stern, but Cord didn’t care. Helpless anger boiled through him—at the military, at the situation, at the men who’d come to his door in disguise.
“I’m afraid all I can do is reassure you that we have no information indicating your brother is dead. I was hoping a personal visit would be less risky than a phone call, but what you’ve just told me makes me guess your house could be under surveillance.”
Cord stared at him. “My house? Not Tessa’s?”
“Possibly both. But since you’ve had one visit—”
“They might hang around. To watch me.” Cord hadn’t thought about that. All he’d known was that his ranch was safer than Tessa’s small house. He had guns; he had a running vehicle. As long as he kept Tessa with him, he could protect her from any possible danger. He never dreamed he might be putting her in danger. “When will we know something? When will this be over?”
The colonel shook his head. “At this time, I’ve confirmed all I really can in order not to compromise any ongoing operation.” There was a flash of guarded sympathy in his eyes. “Your position is difficult, but we can’t put anyone at risk.”
He meant Hunt.
“I understand,” Tessa said suddenly. “I appreciate your time in coming out here.”
The man nodded. “I was hoping to alleviate your concerns. I would suggest you have your local law enforcement officers run a periodic patrol through the area. If you are under surveillance, extra personnel may be a deterrent.”
“Thank you so much,” Cord said sarcastically. “Your assistance has been invaluable.”
John nodded, seeming to understand his frustration. “We’ll be in contact.” He stepped out the door and went to his car before glancing back at Tessa.
“John,” Tessa suddenly called, startling Cord. He had nothing further to say to anyone in the military until they told him more than they already had.
Tessa joined the colonel at the car, speaking briefly to him, her hand touching her stomach. The man nodded once before sliding behind the wheel and driving away.
“Do you mind telling me what you said to him?” Cord asked when she had carefully traversed the icy patches to his side.
“I simply said I didn’t want Hunt to know about the baby.” She stared up at him.
He gently caught her arm as she moved to walk past him. “Why not? I think Hunt should know. He’d be upset if he—”
“It’s my baby, Cord Greer,” she snapped. “I don’t want Hunt knowing about the baby. Not while he’s missing. Not while he’s obviously involved in something that has the military operating under caution. Did you ever stop to think that if Hunt found out, he might try to come home? He might try to contact me? That could put him at risk. Worse, it could put my baby at risk. And that is something I will not do.”
She was determined on this issue—and he unwillingly forced himself to admit that she was right. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
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