Dani puffed out her cheeks and expelled a breath of exasperation. He was looking at her as if she had sprouted two heads. She reached inside her pocket for her badge and whipped it out, letting it dangle about a foot from his nose. “Danielle Sweet, HSA Intelligence, federal agent.”

But Ben Michaels was already shaking his head. “That’s pretty damn convenient.” Then he squinted at her. “So you were already on to this guy, and led him into my bank, endangering my employees?”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, yeah, I was on to him the instant he stuck his gun into my back in your bank’s doorway.”

www.millsandboon.co.uk

loves creating pictures with words. Paints, too. Her love affair with writing and art began in the third grade when she won a school-wide contest for her colorful poster for Book Week. She spent the money on books, one of which was Little Women. She rewrote the ending so that Jo marries her childhood sweetheart. That’s because Lyn had a childhood sweetheart herself and wanted to marry him when she grew up. She did. And now she is living her “happily ever after” in north Alabama with the same guy. She and Allen have traveled the world, had two children, four grandchildren and experienced some wild adventures along the way.

Whether writing romantic historicals or contemporary fiction, Lyn insists on including elements of humor, mystery and danger. Perhaps because that other book she purchased all those years ago was a Nancy Drew.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

“Feel the gun?”

Danielle Sweet froze in the doorway.

Earlier that morning the old familiar feeling of unease had shot up her spine. She would pick today to ignore it. She had figured, “what could happen here in lazy old Ellerton, Safety City itself?” Well, hey, now she knew.

But even now, caught in the act of pushing open the bank door with a gunman behind her, the feeling didn’t seem quite sharp enough to warrant panic. She could handle this. More than fear, she felt anger at herself for having lowered her alert level.

Assess the threat. Make a plan.

This man behind her had parked next to her, greeted her as she got out of her car, and asked politely if it was nine o’clock yet. She had sensed him walking nearby as they reached the portico of the small Beresford First National Bank.

He looked to be in his early thirties, weighed around two hundred, moved with confidence, no hesitancy. He spoke with a slight accent, looked professional, unremarkable. Even with their contact she hadn’t thought much about him at first.

At least he wasn’t some scruffy, unpredictable druggie hell-bent on grabbing some fast cash and ending it with a killing spree. There had been no flashes of imminent bloodshed along with the niggling little premonition she had shoved aside earlier. Of course, that might or might not be reliable.

The pistol prodded her spine. She imagined she could feel the roundness of the barrel right through her coat. “Go in. Smile,” he ordered. “Act normal. Behave as though we are a couple, if you wish to survive.”

Okay, survive was a good word. As soon as they entered the front door, he halted. “Remove your coat,” he ordered.

Dani shrugged out of it when he released her arm. Hurriedly, she tugged off her gloves to free her hands for combat if that became necessary.

She would have already risked taking him down if it were just the two of them, but there were others in the bank. Better wait to see how it played out. He immediately clutched her again, his ungloved fingers and thumb biting painfully into her bicep.

Her service revolver lay locked in her briefcase in the trunk of her car for the duration of her visit with her sister. There was nothing she could do at the moment but comply and silently curse the fact that she was unarmed.

She had decided to stop at the local bank to set up a savings account for her brand-new nephew and present the parents with it as one of her baby gifts. The decision, almost a compulsion, had been with her since she’d woken up this morning: insure that baby’s future. God, she wished she’d bought the little fellow a teddy bear instead.

But maybe it was better that she had come here. Maybe she’d been meant to be in the bank for this.

The barrel of the weapon nudged her again and she heard the man’s satisfied grunt. No wonder he was pleased. There were only three other people inside.

One young woman was humming along with the soft lobby music while she worked on the bins of deposit slips, forms and pamphlets at the counter in the middle of the room. A teller, Dani guessed.

A skinny, older man of around sixty lounged in the doorway to one of the two glass-fronted offices within the lobby. He wore a mud-brown off-the-rack suit and black patent shoes. Not exactly the type who would be meeting the public much. She would guess accountant. He chatted with a younger man who stood propped against the desk. Now this one looked the part. They were both sipping from coffee cups. Smiling. Shooting the breeze.

In a small town like Ellerton, Virginia, even with traffic severely curtailed by ice and snow, surely there ought to be more people minding the store. Of course, anyone with good sense would be home today, snuggled by their fires. The streets were a mess. The guy had chosen the perfect time for a bank heist.

She shifted position and even tucked her shoulders in a little, hoping the hand that clutched her arm would ease its grip.

“Interfere and I will shoot you first,” her captor whispered. He squeezed her arm harder, hugging her closer as he led her farther into the lobby.

The blonde turned to them, smiling. “Good morning. What can we do for y’all?” The men across the room continued talking, drinking their coffee, offering only a cursory glance.

Suddenly a hard twisting motion almost cracked the bone in Dani’s arm. She cried out sharply, trying to jerk away, but the pain nearly sent her to her knees.

She sagged against him to keep from falling. She dropped her coat and purse.

At her cry, the men rushed out of the office to see what had happened and the blonde hurried over ahead of them.

The man’s gun hand flew up, the weapon near the side of Dani’s face. “Stop! Move and she dies.”

They stopped in their tracks, all three now within six feet of Dani and the man who held her, well away from any alarm buttons. That was the point to the distraction, she figured.

She looked up at the bank employees, expecting expressions of shock. Only the younger man showed none. No fear, either. His glare rivaled the ice on the streets outside. He looked seriously ticked off.

Don’t be a hero, she prayed.

For a minute, Hero looked like he might give it a shot. He and the perp were about the same size, both over six feet tall, both built like they worked out religiously. If not for the gun, a 9 mm holding fifteen rounds, they would probably be pretty evenly matched.

Dani had to let the scene unfold without attempting to interfere, and she hoped the banker had come to the same conclusion. She could take the gunman by surprise and probably disarm him, but the situation called for prudence. She wasn’t the only one at risk here, and above all, she didn’t want anyone hurt. The money was insured. Bank robbers got caught.

She glanced up and could plainly see two cameras. There would be a couple more stationed somewhere behind her. This entire escapade would be recorded, so knowing what the perp looked like didn’t put them at further risk. There was no reason for him to kill them if they kept calm.

“Where’s the vault?” he demanded.

The older man pointed to the hallway around and behind the counters.

“Go there. All of you. Single file,” he demanded.

Whew, he was just going to lock them up, Dani thought with relief. They would sack up some money for him and he’d simply lock them inside and leave. A few hours later they would be watching his arrest on the evening news.

He snapped out another order. “You and you, go inside!” He motioned with the weapon for the older man and the girl to enter the vault. “Lock the door,” he said to the younger guy.

The girl began to wail and plead like a four-year-old. The sound cut off the instant the thick steel door clicked shut. At least this narrowed the list of potential casualties. Those two should be safe enough.

Dani’s arm throbbed, still caught in a viselike grip.

“Back into your office,” the robber instructed. “Remain on the front side of your desk.”

She met Hero’s gaze and raised her eyebrows. He was red in the face, his strong jaw and fists clenched.

Don’t try anything! Dani tried to communicate the thought to him without words. He shot her an exasperated look, exhaled sharply, then turned with military precision and led the way. Message received, she guessed.

When they reached the office, the robber forced her into the chair to the side of the desk, he stood behind her, placing the muzzle of the gun to her right temple.

“You. Stand,” he ordered the banker. His accent became more pronounced and his breathing grew more rapid. “Keep both of your hands in my sight at all times. No silent alarms or she dies. First, turn the monitor around so that I can see it clearly. Move the keyboard to this side,” he demanded. The hero eyed him, but complied.

“Now, send this fax,” he instructed the man, placing a document on the desk. “Be certain to dial correctly.” Dani watched the process as closely as her captor did.

When the fax machine whirred, the perp tossed an index card down in front of the keyboard. “In the left column there are account numbers. From these accounts, I wish the amounts listed in the middle column transferred to the account on the right.”

“To the Caymans?” Dani heard a barely concealed scoff in his voice.

“Begin.”

“I need the code to access the program used for transfers of this nature,” the banker insisted. “It’s in the vault.”

“You know the codes,” the robber growled. “I kept you out of the vault because you are the manager. Do it now or she dies. Then you die. Make no mistakes.”

The banker’s lips firmed. Dani watched the muscles in his jaw clench while he did as he was told.

This took a while since there were quite a few transactions involved. From her view of the monitor, Dani noted that none of the amounts were too enormous. She didn’t bother to keep a running total, but figured it at around three million.

The robber picked up the notes. “I wish to see confirmation when it is complete.”

The banker paused to await one of the steps of the transfer to go through. “I see you’ve kept the amounts under a hundred thousand, but the transfers will send up red flags anyway.”

“I know,” the robber said, an evil smile in his voice. “But these will be your red flags.”

Survival seemed a lot less likely now, Dani thought with a belated surge of adrenaline. There was something in the man’s voice and movements, a subtle, higher pitch, an increased tension and a slight tremor in the hand holding the gun. He was building up to something, getting himself psyched.

She remained motionless except for her gaze, which settled immediately on an engraved name plate that read Benjamin R. Michaels. The name suited him. Strong, no-nonsense, bankerly.

Dani watched the banker’s long, tapered fingers fly over the keyboard and listened to the soft whir of the computer as it completed its functions. Meanwhile, she smelled the sweaty wool and scent of anxiety that cloaked her captor.

The cold metal of the pistol brushed against her hairline, sending chills down her spine. All her senses edged to higher alert levels. She could taste his fear like metal on her tongue. Now this man would have to kill them both. They had seen the numbers. If he let Michaels live, the transfer could be reversed, or at the very least, reported in detail. If not reported by any survivors, the transferred funds could be moved again from the Caymans and disappear.

Dani squeezed her eyes shut and a chaotic picture flashed through her mind, a Technicolor explosion of action, a split-second portent of extreme violence. This was no flight of fearful imagination, but a bona fide premonition.

Late warning. Maybe too late. She had to do something.

She blinked fiercely to clear her head. The bank manager’s steely gaze met hers as they waited for a response from the target bank. He knew, too, that they would have to die. And Dani realized if she didn’t try something in the next few minutes, this would-be hero would.

Even as she tried to formulate a less risky plan, her right hand slid slowly up her body, past her breast, so that her fingers barely touched her collarbone. The robber’s attention stayed on the screen. As if reading her mind, Michaels tilted the screen a little more to the right, providing distraction.

Striking like a coiled rattler, Dani’s hand shot up, grabbed the robber’s wrist and shoved the pistol up and away from her head. Several rounds hit the wall to her right. She dug her nails into the nerve at his wrist, felt her nails cut flesh and saw the gun tumble onto the desk.

A backhanded blow knocked her completely out of the chair and slammed her against the wall. Even while she scrambled upright, she focused on the struggle between Michaels and the robber as they fought for the weapon.

Again, it discharged, shattering the tempered-glass window.

More shots! Chaos! The scene that had flashed through her head earlier morphed to reality. Adrenaline surged and gave her strength.

Desperate, Dani attacked from the rear. She leaped onto the robber’s back and clutched her legs around his hips. She dug her fingers into his face, trying to gouge his eyes, anything to disable him. But her hands slid all over his skin, sticky and wet. To her shock, he crumpled to the floor beneath her and lay still.

For a long moment she couldn’t move. Straddling the perpetrator, her hands still locked around his head, she waited for him to recover and resume fighting.

“It’s over. He’s dead,” a calm, deep voice assured her.

Large hands slid beneath her arms and lifted her off the body. Before his words could register, he had turned her around and embraced her, holding her close, pressing her face to the soft cotton of his shirt. His subtle cologne mixed with the tinny smell of blood.

She pushed herself away from the admittedly warm embrace.

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” she stated, but the words came out a little shaky and breathless, not as firmly as she meant them to. “Are you?”

“I’m fine. Why don’t you go in the other office and sit down while I call the police?” he suggested.

“Check the body,” she ordered. “Just to be—”

“Sure,” he said, finishing her sentence and turning her toward the door, his strong arm locked around her shoulders. “Trust me, he’s dead. Come on now, let’s get you out of here.”

Dani broke away. “Hey, I’m not falling apart, Mr. Michaels, and I don’t need any babying. I’m a federal agent and I can handle a little blood, okay? And rule number one—I check to see if the perp is dead or not.”

His eyebrows flew up. “You’re a what?”

Dani puffed out her cheeks and expelled a breath of exasperation. He was looking at her as if she had sprouted two heads. She reached in her pocket for her credentials folder and whipped it out, letting her badge dangle about a foot from his nose. “Danielle Sweet, Homeland Security Intelligence.”

But he was already shaking his head in obvious disbelief. “That’s pretty damn convenient!” Then he squinted at her. “So you were on to this guy? And you led him into my bank? You endangered the lives of my employees?”

“Oh yeah, I was on to him the instant he stuck his gun in my back. And since we were already at the front door, your bank just seemed like a great place to get the goods on him, so I brought him on in!”

The sudden silence seemed deafening. She suddenly realized just how loudly she’d been screaming at him.

Dani tried to calm down and contain the shakes. Her whole body seemed to vibrate uncontrollably now that the threat was over.

“What were you doing here in the first place?” Michaels demanded.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Hey! Banking, maybe? Am I allowed?”

“You don’t have an account here!”

She threw up her hands, clenched her fists and turned away so she wouldn’t smack him. After a few deep breaths, she faced him again, measuring her words, moderating them into a somewhat mocking semblance of normalcy. Man, she needed some normalcy right now. “I came to open one!”

Defuse this right now, she ordered herself. Say something nice. Another deep breath. He was pacing now, his stride severely limited by the floor space available. “By the way, thank you for not doing something too stupid and getting us killed.”

A muscle worked in his jaw, clenching, unclenching. He stopped pacing and glared at her, his eyes flashing. “Stupid? You mean like grabbing somebody with a gun pointed at your head? Like leaping on his back? Stupid like that? Dammit, he could have taken your head off, you know that? Of all the freakin’, idiotic—”

“Shut up!” Dani snapped. “He was about to kill us both anyway and you knew it! So don’t you rail at me for—”

“Okay, okay!” he interrupted, struggling with his temper. A moment later he had his palms out in a gesture of surrender. “Let’s let it go. It’s over and we’re both alive. Just calm down, all right?”

“I’m calm as a cucumber, Slick. You’re the one going ape. Now, why don’t you do something constructive like get the hell out of my way?”

His intense gaze remained on hers as his breathing evened out. He jerked one hand toward the dead man. “Be my guest, then. Check the body while I notify the police.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Do that.”

Ignoring him, Dani crouched beside the dead man and felt his carotid for a pulse. Then she saw why he said it wasn’t necessary. There was a bullet hole right between the eyes, which were open and already glazing over. Plus, he had a massive exit wound at the top of his head.

If she hadn’t been so much shorter, she would have seen it when she’d jumped him. With that thought, she suddenly realized her hands were gummy. She examined them and began to worry about contamination from the blood.

“Bathroom’s that way. Better go wash that off,” Michaels said, pointing. He had gone around to the other side of his desk and stood waiting with the phone to his ear.

His perfect features held an expression of worry now. New frown lines forming. Probably his first serious problem, she thought. Men who looked the way he did must have a really easy skate through life. A hiccup like this was enough to throw him off polite behavior.

Dani felt bad about their heated exchange. Adrenaline could do weird tricks with a person’s attitude. Unfortunately, it seemed to have affected them both the same way. She would need to apologize later.

In the meantime, she retrieved her purse from the lobby floor, hurried to the restroom where she scrubbed off the blood. Thankfully, she had no scratches to worry about. Her right temple felt completely numb where the pistol had been jammed against it, though that was probably due to swelling from the blow she took. Her hip hurt where she had crunched it against the wall and her arm ached a little. Otherwise, she was okay.

Carol was going to kill her. It seemed every time Dani got within a mile of her sister, trouble exploded. Last visit, Bud’s new car had been stolen out of their driveway and found burned to a crisp over in the next county. Dani, a brand-new agent working for the Bureau then, had felt obliged to hunt down the guys who took it and bust up the car-theft ring. Bad call, jurisdictionally, she remembered. This time, she’d stay out of it and let the locals do their worst.

Even when she and her sister were growing up, Dani had been a trouble magnet. She was invariably swept up in the middle of whatever conflict developed anywhere near her, mostly due to her acting on her dratted premonitions. Maybe she had cursed them once too often. Today her Gypsy mother’s gift of foresight had all but failed.

Or had it? Maybe it had taken a different form with that pressing need to get out of the house on a day when sane people stayed inside. And that sudden notion of opening an account for the baby had struck her like a hammer just after breakfast. Had that foresight guided her here to stop the robbery?

Maybe she shouldn’t have come to Ellerton in the first place, but how could she stay away when Carol had a brand-new baby, Dani’s very first nephew? It wasn’t as if she was likely to have any children of her own any time soon, maybe ever.

Once again, she reminded herself why she had no business envying her sister the adorable baby, devoted hubby and the white picket fence. Mommies weren’t supposed to carry weapons and go looking for danger, like she did for a living. Like she enjoyed doing. It was not a life to be shared with innocents.

But what if she hadn’t come? Ben Michaels would probably be dead right now, as well as whomever else the robber would have held hostage instead of her.

She glanced in the mirror again, examined the new bruise on her head and pulled some of her bangs down to cover it. Out of sight, out of mind: one of those sayings that didn’t quite work in this case. Later, she’d cover it with makeup, but it would still ache like crazy.

To distract herself, she thought about Michaels as she made herself presentable. It took a certain kind of person to settle down in Smallville and be content. Someone like her sister and Bud, her brother-in-law. And this Benjamin Michaels, big bad bank manager. He had been unexpectedly cool under fire.

The thought made her wrinkle her nose. Hero material, sucked into life as a bean counter. How the devil had that happened? She pushed away from the sink and went back outside. Maybe she would ask him.

He stood near the front door, waiting for the police. From some back office, probably the employees’ lounge, she could hear the blond teller weeping dramatically and the other guy mumbling.

She crossed the lobby to Michaels. “So, could you reverse the transfer and get the money back?”

“No. I—” Sirens and the screech of tires interrupted. The police hadn’t had far to come. You could span the whole town in about five minutes.

The small bank filled with people. Three uniforms, six emergency personnel and a couple of plainclothes carrying satchels, probably doctors or crime scene techs. Who would guess there were this many people in Ellerton to respond to a call like this? It was comforting to see, given that her sister and her family lived here.

A pleasant-looking, heavyset man in a cheap suit entered and approached them. He removed his hat, revealing a silvery crew cut and a tan line on his high forehead. His bright blue eyes snapped with energy. She recognized him immediately and cringed.

“Hey, Ben,” the police chief said, glancing in the direction of the office where the paramedics were hovering. “Everybody okay?”

“Everybody but him,” Michaels said, gesturing idly toward the body.

The chief looked at her, head cocked to one side. “Miss, I’m Chief Talbert with the Ellerton police.” He cleared his throat and squinted. “Don’t I know you?”

Dani shrugged and tried to look innocent.

The chief’s eyes narrowed farther. “I need to interview y’all separately. Ben, you want to scram? I know you got things you need to do, calls to make and so forth, and we can talk later.”

“I do at that.” Turning to her, he said, “I’ll see you later. I’d like to speak with you again before you go.”

Dani nodded. His low-timbre voice had a newscaster quality to it, softened by a distinct Virginia accent. Nice, she thought. Exceptionally nice, when he wasn’t cussing or threatening. That tone matched his polished appearance.

Amazing, how unruffled he looked now. The only evidence of the altercation were his skinned knuckles and minute spatters of blood on his shirt. The man obviously had a tough side, one he masked well. Dani consciously made note of the fact that it was a really good-looking mask. No wrinkles, not even any laugh lines. Smooth. Almost mannequin smooth. She wondered if he was vain enough to be into Botox.

Her budding fascination must have shown as her gaze followed him, because the chief cleared his throat yet again, this time to get her attention.

Dani ignored him for another few seconds as she watched Michaels head for the other unoccupied office. She liked the way he moved, how he led with his left, leaned forward and swung one arm in a John Wayne kind of stride. But the Duke on his best day had never looked that good. She allowed herself a silent little whew before she looked away.

“Okay, here you go.” She reached into her pocket, fished out her badge folder and handed it over.

The chief took it and examined it closely. “Uh-huh. So you’re a special agent, division of Homeland Security.” His smile looked wary. “Wait a minute. Weren’t you with the FBI?” She saw recognition dawn. “I remember you now. Whatcha doing here in Ellerton this time, Ms. Sweet?”

“On vacation.” Again, she thought, but didn’t add the word. “Visiting my sister, Carol Whitman.”

Surprisingly, his smile turned friendly. “She and Bud had the baby yet?”

“A boy.” Dani went on to explain why she was at the bank and gave him the details of what had happened. Then, just to be polite, she added, “Can I be of help other than as a witness? If I can assist in the investigation in any way…”

He smirked a little, obviously recalling the last time their paths had crossed and how she had stolen his thunder. “No thanks, I think we can handle this one. So you’re with the COMPASS outfit now? We got some directives down a couple months ago about cooperation and interaction and such. Part of that special team, Sextant, aren’t you? Counterterrorism?”

“Yes, we’re an adjunct to Sextant.” She smiled. “Look, Chief, could you maybe keep my name out of things? I’d consider it a big favor. We like to keep a low profile.”

He nodded. “Sure thing. Okay, that about does it. Thanks.”

Dani followed him over to the door of the office where the EMTs were bagging the body.

“Well, Ben took care of him.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Pretty cut-and-dried, I guess. Bank job gone bad. I need to go question Ben and the others. Maybe you should stick around until I’m finished, in case I come up with any more questions. You mind?”

“Glad to,” she replied, in no great hurry to face her disapproving sister with the news of her latest adventure.

A little while later, Ben Michaels returned to the lobby. He managed a more pleasant expression than any he had shown before. She registered again how perfect he looked. Short dark hair expertly cut. Nice, smoothly arched brows. Steely gray eyes rimmed with long black lashes. Lips that really made her pause to stare. Nose every plastic surgeon must aim to duplicate. Cheekbones that hinted at Native American genes beneath his pale skin. Except for a few hairline scars, nothing marred the mask. How benign he looked now. Great camouflage. She almost said so out loud.

“I shouldn’t have popped off at you the way I did,” he said. Perfect Southern gent routine, smooth as good cane syrup. One would never guess he had a pop-off in him.

“Not a problem,” she said, sort of aping his accent, simply because she liked it. Her natural Midwestern clip seemed a little blunt by comparison. “Guess I did the same thing. We were both pretty wound up.”

He either didn’t notice or ignored her Scarlett O’Hara impression as he nodded and inhaled deeply, releasing it slowly before speaking again. “Could I talk with you in private about what happened?”

Well, that raised her brows. “What for?”

“You’re Homeland Security and I have a possible threat to discuss.”

“Does it have to do with the robbery?”

He nodded. Dani decided to humor him. He had been through a lot this morning. He would naturally blow this all out of proportion—she had seen it many times. A thief, obviously of foreign extraction, had come in to rob the bank, to direct the funds out of the U.S. Had to be an international plot, right? Small towns were a refuge for foreign professionals. Her sister’s obstetrician was from India. All the convenience stores were run by recent immigrants, as were many of the mom-and-pop motels. This guy looked like a well-to-do businessman in his expensive top-coat and tasteful tie. Some immigrants were office workers, some blue collar, and, yes, some were thieves. But not all of them were linked to international terrorism.

Amid these doubting thoughts she became very aware of Ben Michaels’s hand on her elbow, guiding her to one of the empty offices even before she had noticed. At least he wasn’t causing any premonitions of danger. She smiled at the thought.

“Okay, Mr. Michaels, explain this potential threat,” she said in her most authoritative tone.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured for her to sit in one of the wing-backed chairs that flanked the desk. Then he closed the door and sat across from her in the matching chair. Through the plate glass that separated the space from the lobby, Dani could see the beehive of activity as the locals went about their investigation.

She waited for him to begin. He searched her face, assessed it, as if trying to determine something about her.

She studied his, too, along with his body language and general demeanor, all of which signified his great concern, but also evident was his confidence to deal with whatever may trouble him. He certainly had done all right so far today, no question about that.

He seemed to reach a decision. “We might have a terrorist funding situation going on here that your people should investigate. At least you can pass it on to the agency that handles such things to see if I could be right.”

“Even foreign nationals commit regular crimes, Mr. Michaels. They’re not all sleeper agents committed to a holy war. And for all we know right now, this guy’s a U.S. citizen, born and bred. Bank robberies are not in my bailiwick.”

He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees and his penetrating gray gaze holding hers. “I realize that, Ms. Sweet, but this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill robbery,” he said, stating the obvious. “I was forced to dump three million from legitimate accounts here into the bank in the Caymans. It was supposed to appear as if I had done it. Embezzlement.”

“I got that,” she said wryly, inclining her head in agreement. “Are you saying this type of robbery has never happened before in the annals of bank heists?”

“Cute. What I’m saying is that these funds may have been taken from the accounts of individuals who share a common cause. Individuals who might not mind their accounts being victimized.”

“Say it straight-out if you don’t mind. What’s the deal?”

“I said it already. Could be terrorist financing.”

Dani cocked her head and stared at him. “What are the chances of that? A terrorist stumbles in here and inadvertently takes an intel agent hostage?”

He shrugged again. “That’s the reason I asked why you were here.”

“Okay, exactly what do you think is going on? Paint me a scenario.”

“Say he left no witnesses. Then he goes to the back of the counter to the drawers and takes all the cash he can carry and gets away. This would have been considered a straight robbery. Later when the auditors come in, they discover the transfers I’ve made to this offshore account. I probably would have been blamed for it.” His gaze was keen, sharp. “Didn’t it seem to you as if he intended for me to take the heat? You remember, when I mentioned the red flags?”

Dani didn’t quite buy it. “The time would have been recorded as happening during the robbery,” she reminded him.

“Yes, but this audit would happen weeks later. The money trail would end at a Cayman bank and they would never recover the funds.”

“The cameras would show you performing the transaction under duress.”

He glanced out at the cameras. “We haven’t gone digital yet. Easy to remove the evidence with no one alive to stop him. Granted, it doesn’t seem like it was a great plan on his part, but he and the money would have disappeared before anyone sorted it out. And if I were missing, I would definitely be suspected of collusion.”

“I think your supposition is a stretch, Mr. Michaels,” she said, although she privately wondered…Michaels was no alarmist. He seemed cool and collected and had obviously given this a lot of thought.

“I’m not through yet,” he stated, his tone flat and unequivocal. “You need to listen to me and have this checked out.” He gestured emphatically with his hands as he spoke.

He continued to lean toward her, his palms flared as his elbows rested on his knees. “The money is insured, so the clients wouldn’t have suffered any loss.”

“I’m listening,” she told him. “Please go on.”

He met her gaze, sincerely trying to convince her of his theory. “Today’s crime could have played out the way I suggest if we hadn’t stopped it. Your basic robbery, then later on, an unrelated incident of embezzlement is discovered. The apparent perpetrator of that, namely me, already dead. Or maybe he would have forced me to go with him, only to kill me later.”

Dani leaned back in her chair. “Why your bank?”

“Maybe we have all the right customers. The upshot is that I think the funds I was forced to transfer could have already been earmarked to finance terrorists.”

“Three million would only be a drop in the bucket to those groups. Maybe our guy was merely a thief who didn’t realize the Cayman banks are not a good place to hide funds anymore.”

“Oh, I think he knew he couldn’t hide it there. He only needed to get it out of the States first.” Michaels abandoned his ingratiating pose, sat back and crossed his arms. “You won’t find the money there anymore,” he told her with absolute authority.

“Why are you so certain of that, Mr. Michaels? Have you already moved it? Did I happen along at the wrong time and mess up a little plan to cover up a three mil heist with a simple bag job?”

Michaels didn’t bat an eye at her accusation. “I am trying to help here. If the robber and I were in cahoots, all he had to do was lock you in the safe, too. Or kill you outright.”

In cahoots? Dani stifled a smile and nodded, tongue in cheek. She didn’t really suspect Michaels of involvement and he knew it. “I still think it’s quite a stretch, bank robbery to terrorism. Are you deducing all this from the robber’s physical characteristics?” She had to admit, though, that the thought had crossed her mind when she first felt the gun and heard the accent. But that was a panic response, not good inductive policework.

“Not entirely.”

“Okay, let’s explore the possibility.” She encouraged him to go on. His certainty was a little contagious. “Explain why else you would think he was a terrorist collecting funds from sympathizers?” she asked.

“While you were talking to the chief, I checked the numbers of the source accounts against the surnames of the holders. Those names reflect that this could be an effort by individuals with possible familial ties to the Middle East to amass a tidy sum, jump it from country to country and land the funds where they could easily be accessed as needed.”

“All of the account holders? There must have been thirty accounts you drew from.”

“In total, there were only nine individuals and companies. All have multiple accounts with us and all of those accounts were tapped. All except one have ties to the Middle East, or at least surnames that indicate they might. One of the smaller accounts has a name very similar to an organization on the terrorist watch list,” he said.

Dani dropped any pretense of disagreement. He had made his case, or at least enough of one to warrant a full investigation. “I’ll notify the agency. They’ll institute a thorough investigation. You can’t recover the funds? Have you tried?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I tried. Part of it was withdrawn within seconds of the transfer, and most of it was transferred again. It stands to reason there would be an accomplice waiting at the other bank to move on it quickly. It was split. Looks like the man at the other end took his cut.” He paused. “But I can follow the money they moved.”

“You can do that?” she asked. “How?”

“Well, shift funds around all you want, but it always leaves a trail. As you probably know, there’s really no such thing as an anonymous account anymore. I have connections that could furnish names and leads to follow. It’s a place to start.”

Dani recognized competence when she saw it. “My people can call on the Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty the offshore banks signed with the UK and the U.S.”

For the first time, he smiled. “That would help. As you pointed out, a few million’s not much in the grand scheme of things. But if you multiply it by a number of small banks like this one, terrorists could secure an absolute fortune before anyone recognized what they were doing.” He shrugged. “Or I could be wrong. This could be a setup to ruin me and my bank.”

“You have enemies who would do that?” she asked, almost smiling at the thought. He appeared so benign, so likable. “Look, no one believes you were involved in this. Insurance will take care of the losses. Why not let it go at that?”

“You’re kidding, right? Let it go?”

“You seem to be taking it very personally,” she said, wondering how far he’d work this theory of his.

He planted a fist in his palm and bared his teeth in a grimace of frustration. “Of course I do. This bank is my responsibility and my reputation was threatened.”

After a pause, she said, “Okay, let’s word this for my boss so I can run it by him and I’ll make a call.” She poised her pen over the little notebook she always carried in her pocket. Michaels cleared his throat and began. He dictated clear, concise sentences, like Dani had read in many official government incident reports. Dani noted the way his dark gray eyes narrowed as he drew to a close. “If those funds are meant to support terrorists, we need to make sure that doesn’t happen. I mean to make certain it doesn’t.”

His last sentence brought back some doubt to her. Was he a glory seeker trying to get his name in the papers by making up some fictitious plot? All the agencies got scads of those. So many they were now having to prosecute the “witnesses” when fraudulent intent was clear. False claims tied up too many people in useless investigations and took time away from real cases.

Or did Michaels really have something? It was never wise to consider any citizen’s suspicions frivolous, no matter how outrageous they sounded. And, unfortunately, his sounded feasible.

“What if this was just a little more sophisticated than your everyday bank job?” she suggested. “Our boy probably knew all the tricks about tracing stolen money when a thief actually carries it out in a sack, like the dye, the tracking devices, marked bills and so forth. Crooks do watch a lot of television.”

He acknowledged with a wry smile. “Add to that the fact that few banks actually keep three million in cash lying around. And even if we did, extremely large bills are too hard to spend without raising questions. And a cache of small ones in that amount would be too damned heavy for one thief to carry.”

He dropped the smile and looked away. “Besides, I haven’t mentioned the clincher, the thing that convinced me this was no regular heist. Make sure this is in your notes.”

Dani turned the page in her notepad and clicked her pen.

Michaels met her gaze with one of pure fire. “He muttered something immediately after the transfer, just before you acted. Did you hear it?”

“Sounded like a curse,” she replied. “To tell you the truth, I was too busy concentrating on what I was doing.”

“It was a phrase in Arabic,” Michaels told her. “He said Death to America. Then the rat bastard smiled.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she sat silently for a moment. “You speak Arabic, Mr. Michaels?” Now this seemed a lot less far-fetched than it had before.

He shrugged. “That particular phrase is one I heard enough times to engrave it on my brain.”

She leaned forward. “And just what did you do in the service?”

If he was surprised that she had guessed he was former military, he didn’t flinch. His beautifully sculpted lips tightened into a line before he relaxed them. He promptly reverted to the stillness that signified his stolid banker image before he replied. “I picked up phrases like that one.”

“Ah. Okay,” she said, clicking her pen rhythmically, watching his eyes. “Did you mention your theory to the chief?”

“No, it’s not within local scope. That’s why I wanted to speak to you about it.”

She nodded her approval. “Could you step out and give me a few minutes to make a call?”

He stood, then paused before leaving the room. “Just so you know, I plan to follow through on this. Nobody…I mean, nobody, rips off my bank and gets away with it. Especially not for the purpose of bankrolling the bin Ladens of the world. I can track the money.” He shook a finger at her. “You tell your people that. They can work with me or around me, I don’t really care—but there’s no way I’ll be camping out behind some desk while someone else tries to straighten this out.”

Whoa. The man didn’t come off like a mild-mannered banker when he got his dander up. But Dani knew what her boss would say to having a civilian muddying up the waters of an international financial investigation. “We have experts who follow up on things like this, Mr. Michaels.”

“And by the time they decide who and how many to send, get the travel approved, orders cut, run everything through their computers and bureaucrats, and settle on what to do first, the money will be spent. And if I’m right, people will die.”

The fire in his eyes told her he’d had some experience with that. She could also see that her words would have little effect on his actions. Plus, he was right about the systemic delays. That was one reason her own team had been formed.

Whoever investigated this would certainly need the cooperation of a banking expert, and Ben Michaels did have all the particulars of the transaction and perhaps knew how to trace it, if that were possible. She would at least call the boss to see what he thought about Michaels, his suspicions and his plans to pursue this. Maybe the investigating operatives could use him.

“How are you with team work?” she asked, suspecting that he might have a lone wolf personality.

“Depends on the team,” he replied. “But I can work alone.” He paused, again with that narrow-eyed glare that hinted at hidden hard edges and left Dani assured of his resolve. “And I will if need be.”

Dani took out her cell phone and raised her chin to indicate he should leave her to make her phone call in private.

“Ben Michaels, you are one lucky son of a gun,” Mike Talbert said with a roll of his eyes. “Guess you been living right lately.”

“Has Mary Ruth calmed down yet?” Ben asked, changing the subject. He was concerned about the young, newly hired teller who had thrown up all over the inside of the vault and fainted. Her every waking moment since this whole thing started, she had spent crying. She looked about the same age as Agent Sweet. He couldn’t help comparing the two women and wondered what had forged Sweet’s ironclad nerves.

“Aw, Mary Ruth’ll be okay,” Mike said. “Probably need some counseling, though. Doc gave her a little something to take the edge off and I sent for her daddy to come get her.”

“And George?”

“He’s fine. Gave us the details on what happened right up until the vault clicked shut on him.” Mike smiled. “George is good with details. Prob’ly already writing a book about it.”

Ben tried to smile back.

“Where’s our little agent?” Mike asked, then peeked around Ben’s shoulder. “Oh, there she is. This COMPASS team she’s on? I’ve heard of it through channels. Started out as one of those secret, specialized forces called Sextant, which has branched out to include this new one.”

“Not so secret now?” Ben asked.

“Publicly, they are, but in law-enforcement circles they’re growing their legend. See, they took the best of the best, so I’ve heard, from the Bureau, CIA, NSA, ATF and the like. Supposed to stimulate cooperation between the agencies. Must be working because that first bunch has made quite an impact, heading terrorists off at the pass. COMPASS was involved in some real dicey deals with stolen missiles, bombs and such.”

He nodded toward the office and smiled. “Hard to believe Miss Sweet’s up to things like that, the way she looks and all. Kinda dainty.”

Ben clicked his tongue. “You didn’t see her disarm the robber. She’s gutsy. And quick.”

“Like a bunny,” Mike said, laughing. “Yeah, she whipped our asses on a car theft thing here a couple of years ago. Made us look like a buncha yokels. It was all over before we even knew what was going on…. I ought to be mad at her for that, but I never been one to hold a grudge. Besides, she’s a real looker.”

A real looker. “And you’re a real master of understatement,” Ben said with a laugh. Agent Sweet was a natural beauty with a perfect, tawny complexion, clear amber eyes and rich dark hair so shiny it reflected her red sweater. She filled that out magnificently, even though he doubted she weighed much over a hundred and ten pounds. A five-five bundle of energy with a good head on her shoulders. The view from the rear in those gray slacks impressed him, too, as she turned her back on them, still talking on the phone.

Too bad she’d turned, though, because those mobile lips of hers were her best feature, Ben decided. God, they were something.

“She might be good at what she does, but you’re the one who was really on the ball today, man.” He slapped Ben on the shoulder. “You sure you’re okay? Still look a little tense.”

“I’m fine and I’d appreciate it if you’d downplay my part in this,” Ben replied, his gaze still focused on Agent Sweet.

“Oh, ’cause of your mama, right?”

“Right.” He watched Agent Sweet pace behind the glass window of the office. She gestured emphatically with one hand as she talked into the phone.

He wondered if he would see her again after today. He hoped not, he reminded himself firmly. There was already one woman in his life he had been jumping through hoops to keep happy for the last year and a half.

All that aside, nothing prevented him from enjoying Agent Sweet aesthetically. She was a work of art, that one. Through the window her dark golden eyes met his and locked like lasers. Then with a curt motion of her hand, she beckoned him to join her.

Even her frown was intriguing.

Despite finally being able to leave the scene, Dani felt anything but relief when they exited the stifling bank into the cold air. Vacation was over. Mercier had decided she should follow up on this since she was already familiar with the situation. And, surprisingly, her boss had not discouraged Michaels’s involvement, at least as far as the Cayman bank.

She could feel one of her premonitions coming on and this one felt like a doozy.

Everything had happened so fast. Capable as Ben Michaels had seemed in the crunch today, she did not want to work with a civilian, even if he was a former soldier. She had only the bare bones of his career; Mercier had run a quick check on him, then read her the high points over the phone, assuring her Michaels was qualified to act as an agent of opportunity.

Michaels had been out of the army for almost two years after serving for seven, an officer nearly halfway to retirement, now a bank manager. Medical discharge, Mercier said. Probably high blood pressure, Dani figured.

“Follow me,” Michaels ordered as he reached his vehicle, a fairly new Mercedes SUV sporting snow chains. The boy must make pretty good money, Dani thought.

“We’ll go to your sister’s house to drop your car. Since I have chains, we’ll take mine from there. My dad can drive us to the airport.”

Mercier was arranging for their tickets to Grand Cayman. Even though the account there was closed out now, she’d been ordered to collect any surveillance tapes or paperwork that might be important, conduct some interviews and back up Michaels in his attempts to collect info on where the money went. Back up. Ugh.

He was already trying to take charge, but Dani decided to pick her battles—no point sweating the small stuff. This type of op was new to her, so she would have to follow his lead in some respects. But she was in charge and he needed to understand that. If it had to do with anything other than locating that money, he would damn well have to do what she said.

“Bud could drive us to the airport,” she offered, a little reluctant to offer the services of her brother-in-law when he had a new baby at home to help care for.

“We’ll see. It depends on how my mother reacts to the news that I’m leaving,” he replied.

Dani frowned as she slid into her rented sedan and slammed the door. It sounded very much like she might be dealing with a mama’s boy. One of her few forays into relationship territory had pitted her against a proprietary mother turned tigress. What a disaster that had been. Soon as Mama had found out about Dani’s Gypsy roots, she’d started applying weed killer.

Funny, Dani would never have figured Ben Michaels for a guy who hung on the apron strings. Showed how clueless she still was about men. Too bad her famous premonitions didn’t extend to profiling. Her gust of frustration produced visible vapors in the freezing air. Oh well, it was nothing to her. She wasn’t interested in him that way.

Still, the little frisson of disappointment wouldn’t go away. Maybe she was a bit more interested than she wanted to admit. With more force than necessary, she twisted the key in the ignition, jerked into Reverse and backed out of her parking space.

If Mama said he couldn’t go, Dani would just leave him the hell at home. Not as if she needed to play nursemaid to a damn banker anyway.

Mercier had agreed the banker’s assessment of the terrorist funding deserved checking out. More manpower would be on it shortly, he had assured her. She was to get a jumpstart by going to the Cayman bank and hopefully getting a lead on whoever had been there in person.

Mercier had spoken on the phone with Michaels at some length and decided the former army officer ought to lend his expertise in banking operations and contacts in the field to Dani’s investigation, at least to the preliminary portion of it.

When Dani turned into the driveway at Bud and Carol’s house, Michaels pulled up behind her and got out. He had her door open before she even had her seat belt unlatched. “Mind if I come in with you? I haven’t had a chance to congratulate them on the baby. Bud’s an old friend.”

So he knew Bud. She wished there were time to grill her brother-in-law for the local skinny on Michaels. “Sure,” she said, slipping a little when she stood on the icy cement.

He clamped an arm around her waist. “Careful there.”

Dani didn’t jerk away from him. She knew she should have, would have automatically, as a rule, but there was no point risking a fall. And, to tell the truth, she didn’t mind a bit that Bud saw the embrace through the window where he was watching them approach the porch. He was always teasing her about her badge putting men off, but Dani figured he was just worried that she would influence Carol to be more independent. Men could be so insecure.

Bud met them at the door. “Are you all right, Dani? Ben? I just heard the bank was robbed! Come on in and sit down!”

Now she felt guilty for her sniping thoughts about Bud. He really did love her like a sister, and he had a big brother attitude. “Where’s Carol? We need to talk.”

When her sister appeared, Dani wasted no time relating what had gone on at the bank. Ignoring Carol’s worried frown, Dani laid out her plans to leave while Michaels sat quietly next to her on the sofa. “Ben has agreed to assist with tracking the stolen funds, so he’ll be coming with me.”

“I can not believe this,” Carol said, rolling her eyes. “What is it with you, Dani? Every single time you show up…”

“Not every time!” Dani argued pleadingly. She sensed that she and Carol were about to take up their age-old conflict again and wished she could avoid it. The visit, up until now, had gone so incredibly well.

For two women whose features were so much alike, they were polar opposites otherwise. Carol the peace lover, versus Danielle the daredevil. They had gone through life that way.

“I’ll take you to catch your plane, Ben,” Bud declared. “Your dad’s gonna have his hands full.” He shook his head at the thought.

Michaels declined. “Thanks, but I’ve actually decided to drive us and leave my car at the airport.”

Dani exchanged a look with Carol, who had obviously decided not to fuss anymore. Her sister merely raised her eyebrows and gave Dani a tightlipped grimace.

“Let me say goodbye to our Little Buddy first,” Dani said, heading for the nursery. “I won’t be but a minute.”

“I’d like to see him, too, if it’s okay,” she heard Michaels say. She sensed him follow her down the hall.

The baby slept, his tiny rosebud of a mouth slightly open, the multicolored knit cap slightly askew on his bald head.

Dani couldn’t resist picking him up. Her maternal instincts fired up again as she held the sweet-smelling bundle against her chest, enjoying the waking squirm, the mew of protest at his nap being disturbed.

She laughed softly and whispered, “No rest for the weary, huh? You be a good boy while I’m gone and Aunt Dani will bring you a surprise when I come back.” She swayed gently, soothing him back to sleep. “Bye, sweetie.” She placed him back in the crib, touching the soft blanket with her fingers in a last caress.

Michaels stood beside her, looking down with something that read like yearning. “I always forget how small they are when they’re brand new.”

She smiled up at him. He had not mentioned a wife or children. There had only been a photo of an older couple in his office, probably his parents. “You have any kids of your own?”

“No, no children.” His words were slow, somehow sad.

“This one’s a little miracle, isn’t he?”

Michaels nodded, his gaze fastened on Buddy. “A new life. Always a miracle.”

Dani left him standing there in the nursery, hands clasped behind him and looking at the baby. As she went to pack what she needed for the trip, two questions bugged her. Did he want children all that much? And, why should she care?

A half hour later they reached his house—a gorgeous Victorian that belonged on a Christmas card. It was especially lovely dressed in its light coat of snow. Carol and Bud’s bungalow looked like a dollhouse by comparison.

“Maybe I should wait in the car,” she said. If he expected a scene with his mother, Dani definitely did not want to be witness to it—she’d seen enough ugliness today.

“Of course not. There’s always coffee on and we can grab a bite to eat before we go.” He got out and hurried around to open her door for her.

She still felt reluctant to go in. Though his words were sincere and hospitable, she caught the undertone of dread in them. What did he expect, a spanking or time-out in his room? At any rate, this little episode might well extinguish any looks-based romantic notions possibly forming in her subconscious.

They navigated the slick stone steps, which someone had dutifully sprinkled with what looked like kitty litter to combat the ice. She admired the front door with its beveled panes and oak frame. “Your house is beautiful.”

He scrubbed his shoes over the rough mat. “It’s my parents’ place, but I live here, too. And you might as well call me Ben. I’ll use Danielle, if you don’t mind. My calling you ‘Sweet’ could get awkward.”

Dani nearly laughed. Yeah, she’d bet Mama wouldn’t cotton to that worth a damn. “It’s Dani for short.”

He walked right in without knocking, which was appropriate, she reminded herself, since he lived here. A grown man who lived with his parents. Déjà vu all over again.

“Benjamin!” a thready voice cried from the room on the right. A wispy woman of around sixty appeared in the doorway, arms outstretched. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she carried a wadded tissue in her hand. “We’ve just heard what happened at the bank. They interrupted programming on television with the news. Are you all right, son?”

“Fine, Mother. Nothing to worry about.” He embraced the woman, who had her eyes squeezed shut, tears running down her cheeks as she hugged him hard.

Her voice rose nearly an octave. “What’s happened to you? I can tell when something’s happened.” The woman grew even shakier, trembling like a frightened bird. She seemed to notice Dani for the first time then. “Who is this?”

Dani froze the smile on her face, determined to keep it there even if things got ugly. If life went true to form, the agent in the house was about to take the heat for involving favorite son in an upcoming op.

Ben stepped back, carefully taking his mother’s hand in his. “This is Danielle Sweet. She’s a government agent and just happened to be at the bank today. Danielle, my mother, Martha Michaels.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dani said with a small nod as she fought the bizarre urge to curtsy. She didn’t figure the woman would go for a handshake at this point. Maybe at any point.

Ben cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Let’s go sit down and I’ll tell you everything. Where’s Dad?”

“Here,” answered the tall, silver-haired gentleman striding down the central hall. “I was in the den listening to the latest about the robbery. You’ll have to give us the straight of it, though. Those news people tend to exaggerate.”

Not this time, she’d bet, thought Dani. If Ben Michaels did have the straight of it, things were much worse than the media realized.

After her introduction to his father, they went into the living room. Dani took a seat on the Victorian sofa at Ben’s indication. He waited until his parents were seated in the matching chairs that faced her, then sat beside her.

In a carefully modulated voice, he gave a seriously watered-down version of what had happened at the bank, leaving out any reference to his struggle for the weapon or the fact that he shot the perp. “Danielle very skillfully brought down the man who robbed us,” he said finally, and gave her a beatific smile. “We’re very lucky she was there today.”

“You saved my boy?” Mr. Michaels asked, giving her a quizzical look. His expression said he didn’t buy that scenario for a hot second. The mother was looking at her with something approaching horror, but whether it was on Dani’s account or Ben’s, it was hard to judge.

Dani glanced at Ben for direction. He just looked at her blankly. “Well…it’s all in a day’s work, sir.” There. She gave a little shrug.

Ben looked away and studied the window for a minute, watching it snow. Then he dropped the bomb. “I need to pack a few things. Danielle and I are going to the Caymans to make some inquiries about the stolen funds.”

“No!” His mother shot up out of her chair, exhibiting sudden agility for one who appeared so frail. “You are not getting yourself mixed up in this. It could be dangerous!” Her face crumpled a little and her voice rose and broke. “Benji, you…promised me.”

Benji? Oh, boy, bet you love that nickname, Dani thought, biting her lip and trying not to smile.

Ben was there in a heartbeat, his arms around the woman, one hand patting the head she had nestled on his chest. “The danger’s past, Mother. The man is dead now. No threat at all.”

“There could be others working with him,” his mother argued, her words muffled against his chest.

So Mama wasn’t clueless. Dani wondered if Mrs. Michaels had noticed the few specks of blood on her son’s dress shirt. Dutiful son would have changed that shirt if he had seen them himself. Maybe he was a little more distracted than he appeared.

He set his mother away from him, still holding her shoulders gently. “You shouldn’t worry, Mom. I’ll be perfectly safe and be back home in a few days.”

Dani started to speak up to tell his parents that he wouldn’t encounter any risk. Michaels had said the money was gone from the Cayman bank now. The only purpose for going there was to get information about the person who had shown up to collect part of it and transfer the rest. Interviewing bank employees presented no danger. But she decided to keep her mouth shut and let Ben handle his folks.

His father took over the support role and gestured with a jerk of his head for Ben to go and pack. Hesitantly, Ben did, leaving Dani to witness the older couple’s silent struggle and the mother’s tears.

“I think I’ll just go wait in the car,” Dani muttered, and headed for the door. “Nice to have met you both.”

“Wait, don’t do that,” Mr. Michaels said. “You’ll freeze out there. Why don’t you go to the kitchen and have some coffee?” He pointed the way. “Just make yourself at home.”

Dani gladly left the room, following her nose to the coffee. Adrenaline rushes ate up calories faster than any workout. She was starving and hoped Ben’s offer of a quick meal would hold up, even if she had to watch him placate his mom’s fears while they ate.

She found a mug and helped herself to the brew. Taking Mr. Michaels at his word, she made herself right at home and raided the cookie jar. She munched rather contentedly as she leaned against the counter and waited.

Within ten minutes Ben reappeared with a travel bag. He had changed out of his suit into cords, a brown pullover and boots.

“How L.L. Bean,” she remarked, grinning up at him over her cup. Her hormones revved like a souped-up Harley. Ben Michaels was a hunk, no doubt about it. She raised her mug. “Coffee?”

He wore a steady nonexpression. Great poker face. Great face, period. But unless he wanted you to know what he was thinking, you never would guess.

“Let’s go,” he said.

She was ready, full of the pilfered chocolate-chip cookies and not at all averse to hitting the road. But in spite of his words, Michaels seemed fairly reluctant to travel. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your parents?”

“I did. It’s snowing harder. If we don’t leave soon, we might not get a flight out.”

Goodness, he sounded almost hopeful. Mommy must have read him the riot act or hit him with another dose of guilt. At least he hadn’t caved completely and told Dani to go on to Grand Cayman by herself, as she had half expected to happen.

She shrugged and set her cup in the sink. Maybe she shouldn’t judge him so harshly. So what if he lived at home and was under Mama’s thumb? Maybe he needed his folks. Maybe his experiences in the service had caused a bad case of posttraumatic stress or something.

Dani doubted that, though. When it came down to performing in a life-or-death situation, he had proved himself more than capable. No hesitation and apparently, no bad aftereffects. She could work with him. And so she promised herself she would not get personally involved with this guy, no matter how he physically cranked her tractor. One trip down that road was quite enough. After that one, she had decided her next boyfriend would be an orphan with no mother around to mess things up. She had held to that decision, but, as it happened, her second relationship had turned out even worse than the first. Her luck with men was awful.

When Ben took her arm going down the steps outside, Dani pulled away. She marched across the icy yard and opened her own car door. Self-sufficiency had become her credo these last few years. She had leaned on her last man and sure as heck didn’t want one leaning on her.

Ben wondered what had set her off. Her sudden pique annoyed him. Maybe she resented his coming along on her mission. Well, that was just too bad. She could just deal with it.

“Messy day all around, isn’t it?” he asked as he got in and buckled up.

“The rest of it certainly was, but I love the snow,” she stated. Her tone was defensive, even argumentative.

“Me, too,” he admitted. He recalled having dreamed about it while traipsing across burning desert sands and crawling through scrubby hills in Afghanistan. He liked drifts of snow four feet deep, covering everything with its pristine whiteness.

He felt a sense of urgency mixed with dread that he had not felt for nearly two years. But that threat had been up close and personal. It had been immediate. This one could have far-reaching effects across the world.

His world had already blown up once, a private disaster, nothing as earth-shaking as a globe vulnerable to terrorists.

Maybe he was wrong about the robbery. He sure hoped so.

He pinched the bridge of his nose then ran a hand over his face. Strange how it still felt as though it belonged to someone else. The nerves and muscles were obviously working. He could smile, frown, whistle, raise his brows. But the nose was wrong, too straight. The cheekbones, a bit high. Whenever he looked in the mirror, he wondered how much of his character had disappeared with his real face.

The surgeons had done a bang-up rebuild and he had nothing to complain about. It was better than having no face at all, which was pretty much where he had been eighteen months ago. They had given him the closest thing to a face transplant possible without actually using someone else’s tissue. A total transformation. A miracle, really.

The only thing that looked remotely like the old Ben Michaels was his eye color and the line of his jaw. He had to deal with the strange new mug and get on with his life. Up to now, he thought he had been adjusting really well.

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