Though his appearance tonight negated that.
His short blond hair was spiked up with blue highlights. Usually he dressed in clothes more suited to the punk rockers he’d grown up with than the business crowd they mixed with, but tonight he wore only a pair of brief boxers and lipstick smudges on his neck.
“Bloody hell, Sasha. I’m sorry,” Orly said. His accent was a rough Cockney that he let few people hear. Most people who met him believed him to be some sort of aristocratic Englishman by birth and breeding. He was a master chameleon.
Seeing her old friend pushed away the last vestiges of the tension lingering from her dream. “No problem. Looks like you’re having more fun in bed than I was.”
Orly crossed to her and patted Dylan’s head. Her son had calmed completely and was now resting peacefully in Sasha’s arms. Sometimes she wished she’d been attracted to Orly the way she was with Kane. It would have made life so much easier.
Kane was an agent for Her Majesty’s Intelligence Agency. Similar in scope to MI-6, they were a more elite team who went deep undercover, targeting enemies of the Crown. They’d met while working on a mission together four years ago.
“Sasha?”
“Sorry. I’ve got D. You can go back to her.” Orly suspected that Kane had moved out, but until Sasha confirmed it, he’d keep his questions to himself. Which was what she needed. Kane felt that she’d turned into a zombie since Dylan’s birth and she couldn’t argue that without Kane realizing her emotional distance had actually started earlier.
Orly watched her carefully with perceptive green eyes that missed no detail.
He said nothing until she’d placed Dylan in his crib. Sasha grabbed the soft fluffy panda from the bottom of the crib and tucked it next to her son. His arm tightened around the plush animal.
“He looks like you when you crash.”
“He’s drooling, Orly.”
“Hey, boss lady, I hate to tell you this, but underneath that beautiful face, you’ve got some nasty habits.”
She punched his shoulder and he laughed. Orly was one of the few people she really trusted. She knew his secrets and he knew hers. There was balance in their relationship, unlike her marriage to Kane, which was…not. She had no one to blame but herself.
“You okay?” he asked.
She crossed to the window. The night sky was clear and the half moon cast long shadows on the landscaped lawn. A breeze blew and the trees swayed lightly with it, their shadows moving across the lawn. “I’m restless.”
Orly moved to stand next to her, dropping his arm across her shoulders. “I wanna say—hot damn, this is a good thing but you don’t sound happy about this.”
“I have a son now.”
“Do you want me to find something more exciting than installing a security system for a bed-and-breakfast?”
She shrugged. She could justify many things in her mind, but endangering her son she couldn’t do. And she couldn’t be an agent and be a mother. She didn’t have an on-off switch that she could toggle from protective nurturer to avenger. “Not yet.”
She wanted to go back to her old job. But then she’d have to really find a nanny for Dylan and another bodyguard, because Orly would be with her. And she couldn’t do that. Not yet. Maybe once Dylan started school. God, what a mess. She who’d vowed to never put her life on hold for any man was torn because of two. One she’d loved too much to keep, and the other—she glanced over at her sleeping son—the other was her entire life.
A subtle beep emitted from the pager on Dylan’s dresser. Intruder. She crossed the room to the Monet Seashore painting and swung it to the left. A quick glance at the crib showed Dylan across the room, sleeping undisturbed. The lighted monitor indicated someone moving from the kitchen toward the west wing and the bedrooms.
God, it had been so long since they’d had to deal with anything like this. She wished Kane were home. Orly was good but he wasn’t Kane. And when your home was being invaded, you wanted your husband around.
“Is that your girl?” Sasha asked.
“Uh, no. She’s tied to the bed.”
“Go untie her and take Dylan with you. Hole up until I give you the signal.”
“What are you going to be doing?” he asked. She knew that he didn’t care for this any more than she did. If there was one thing she knew about her partner, it was that he hated hiding out as much as she did. But only one of them was needed to neutralize their visitor and she was the senior partner.
“Taking care of our intruder.”
“You don’t have a weapon,” he said.
“I’ll get one.”
Sasha moved silently through the house. She’d swung by her bedroom to remove the 9 mm Glock that fit her hand as if it was made for her. She wondered if her past had finally caught up with her, and felt more than a moment’s fear that she wouldn’t be able to rise to the task. Sure, she had a lifetime of training, but lately the most exciting thing she’d done was organizing a playdate with a group of moms from her neighborhood.
She trusted Kane and his security measures to protect their son. Forgetting that Nightshade had more enemies than most agents and that her husband had become a man she didn’t really know anymore.
She tucked the Glock into the holster at the small of her back. The intruder moved quickly and Sasha moved back into the shadows, waiting for him to pass her position. As soon as he did, she attacked him from behind with a side kick that connected solidly to his midsection. He countered with a sweeping roundhouse kick that caught her shoulder. Sasha stepped to the left and countered with a back-kick, front-jab combo that pushed her assailant up against the wall.
Family pictures rattled under the impact but the intruder paused, facing her. His eyes were the color of the ocean on a stormy day, though she couldn’t see them clearly in this light. Husky in build and slightly over six feet tall. In fact, he reminded her a bit of…
“Dammit, girl. Can’t a father visit his only child without it turning into a sparring match? You’re rusty, by the way,” her dad growled. Sergeant Major Mitch Malone pulled her close for a bear hug. Her old man smelled of Cuban cigars, which were the only ones he smoked. He always said that damn embargo was a foolish, political waste of time.
“Most fathers ring the doorbell. Besides, I’m retired, I’m entitled to be rusty.”
“Didn’t want to wake my grandson,” he said. He was dressed in battle fatigues and combat boots. He was armed as well with the same Colt .45 he’d carried since she’d been born.
“How’d you get here?” she asked, leading him down the hall to the kitchen.
“Military transport via Germany.”
Sasha was breathing hard and struggling not to show it. She closed her eyes for a moment as relief swamped her. She’d held her own. She wasn’t as out of shape as she’d feared she might be. She also felt that seductive rush of adrenaline that only came from facing
