Special Assignment: Baby

COURT BRAKED TO A STOP in front of the Korbett house and shoved the gearshift into Park. The paint on the looming two-story house was blistered and peeling. A frown tugged at his mouth. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the place in this kind of shape. His father had been handy with a paintbrush and he’d spent a lifetime taking care of the Double K. Court blinked away the memories that immediately surfaced from his childhood here. The old man had been handy with a liquor bottle as well. It dawned on Court then that the house probably hadn’t been painted since his father died fourteen years ago. His frown deepened again as his gaze shifted to the barn, then the fenced pastures. The whole place was in pretty sad shape.

Where were the horses? He surveyed the empty pastures again. The place had a definite empty feel to it.

The driver’s side door groaned as he pushed it open. Court slid from behind the wheel and pushed the door shut amid the sound of another rusty grumble. Sabrina’s father had died about five years back, if memory served him right. But Sabrina had seemed fine when Court returned a couple of years ago for his mother’s funeral. But then she hadn’t done much talking about the ranch or her family. And that was the extent of what he knew regarding the Korbetts these days. Discounting the unexpected way his body still longed for hers.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

He and Sabrina had been down that road, and Court felt relatively certain she didn’t want to go that route again any more than he did. I want you to stay away from me. Her warning had been pretty clear, he decided when the memory pricked his ego.

The house where he’d lived the first nineteen years of his life abruptly caught his eye. As if marching the last mile to his execution, Court headed in that direction. The place was set against the foot of the mountain and nestled in the trees. The Korbetts had called it the springhouse, since a wide spring ran between it and the main house and barn. This time of year the flow of water wouldn’t be much more than a trickle. But he remembered vividly the rocks that lay beneath the water. Collecting them had been one of his favorite hobbies as a kid.

Amazingly, the old log-and-chink house had withstood the elements and time far better, it seemed, than the main house.

Court hesitated halfway to the barn. He supposed he should knock on Sabrina’s door and let her know he was here. Judging by yesterday’s reception, he was likely trespassing at the moment as far as she would be concerned. She wouldn’t welcome his presence. Not relishing what he was about to do, Court started toward the porch. He could count on her having questions. Sabrina Korbett had never been the type to let anything go easily—except him. She hadn’t once tried to talk him into staying. His sudden appearance now under what could only be called questionable circumstances would pique her natural curiosity.

But somehow he had to make sure she understood where he stood in spite of the fact that he couldn’t tell her a single thing.

SABRINA DROPPED the feed buckets near the supply room door and wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. She dusted her hands on her faded jeans and sighed with satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Both the mares would foal soon. Then she would have four horses rather than two. She wished her father was still alive to give her some badly needed advice. No matter how many years passed, she still missed him…missed the way things used to be when she’d been a skinny kid with nothing to worry about except chasing Court Brody.

Sabrina shook the thought away. She would not think about him right now. She had too much on her plate already.

This spring had been the hardest. With the property taxes due and no money to live on, she had come dangerously close to losing the ranch, but Daniel Austin had saved her. He had bought her entire herd save for the two mares. He’d even purchased a small portion of her land to go along with the Lonesome Pony since the two properties bordered each other. Though Sabrina hated to start from scratch, and even worse, she hated to part with any of the land, it was the only way to save the ranch. Austin had paid her top dollar, too.

Sabrina smiled. If she were completely honest with herself, she would admit that he paid her more than the goods she sold him were worth. Either the man seemed to sense her desperation or he didn’t really know the depressed value of things. Now she had the taxes and insurance paid, and she had enough money in the bank to survive on for a little while. She’d even put back a little something toward college for Charlie. She wouldn’t touch that money for anything other than an outright medical emergency. If worse came to worst at this point, she would have to consider a mortgage, and that was assuming she could get approved for a loan. She had nothing left of value to sell.

Except the land, and she wouldn’t sell another square foot of the land her father had passed on to her and her brother Charlie.

They would make it.

Somehow.

Sabrina reached up to turn off the baby monitor just as her fifteen-month-old son let out a sleepy sigh. Emotion constricted her throat as her firm resolve not to think about Court crumbled. If he discovered her secret, what would he say? More important, what would he do? He wanted no part of life here. Hadn’t for years. Would he be determined to take his son from the only home he had ever known?

Fear slid through her veins. She moistened her lips and forced herself to breathe. She couldn’t let that happen. But all it would take was one look. Ryan looked so much like his father. Brown hair streaked with golden highlights. Same gray eyes. Her pulse reacted at the memory of Court’s kiss this morning. What in the world was he doing back here? Why would he come back after all this time? Her lips dipped into a frown. Hanging out with men like Raymond Green and Joshua Neely wasn’t Court’s style. He was smarter than that.

Two years ago when he’d come home for his mother’s funeral, Court had been an agent with the FBI. He’d told Sabrina everything about his new life that night, his enthusiasm had been impossible to contain. She swallowed tightly. The night Ryan had been conceived.

His presence at the militia compound just didn’t add up. Nor did Charlie’s, Sabrina ruminated. Somehow she had to get her brother away from those men. He was only fourteen, too young to understand the evil that men like Neely could do in the name of God and country.

If only her mother hadn’t deserted them three years ago. Sabrina shook her head sadly. Like Court, her mother had been only too happy to leave Montana and start a new life. Too bad she left her old one in an uproar, and Sabrina to raise the son she had no time or patience to deal with. It seemed everyone Sabrina loved was destined to leave her one way or the other. But she could count on Ryan. He loved her no matter what.

Heaving a beleaguered sigh, Sabrina snagged the monitor from its shelf, turned it off and strode out of the barn. She couldn’t change the past. She thought of Ryan, the only part of the past she didn’t want to change. But she could do her best to survive, and to create a good life for her son and her brother.

Sabrina stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders to loosen them up after her barn-cleaning frenzy as she headed back toward the house. She had needed a way to release the pent-up stress related to Court’s kiss. The house sparkled after the scrubbing she’d given the place, leaving her no option but to turn her attention to the barn. With Ryan asleep, leaving the house would have been impossible if not for the handy monitor. Thank God for that invention. She couldn’t survive without the gadget. She had received it as a shower gift. At first she had been reluctant to use it, but that didn’t last long.

Anytime Ryan was asleep, she could do chores and still know that he was sleeping safely in his crib. The monitor was so sensitive she could hear even the slightest change in his breathing. If he woke up, she would know immediately. Her little cleaning venture was just what she had needed to work off some steam this afternoon.

Swiping back a wisp of hair that had escaped her ponytail, Sabrina smoothed a hand down the front of her dusty shirt. Still too flat-chested to worry with a bra, she wondered if Court found her in any way attractive. He’d kissed her. But that was probably nothing more than a spontaneous reaction to seeing her after all this time. She was too tall and too skinny. Court probably had a whole harem of voluptuous blondes back in D.C. She hadn’t been woman enough to keep him. Not even after she’d given him her innocence. Her enthusiasm had pushed him away. He’d wanted to get away for as long as she could remember. She shouldn’t have been surprised.

Her gaze suddenly lit on an unfamiliar truck parked next to her own. She squinted and tried to make out more details about the beat-up old jalopy. The thing looked worse than hers, and that was saying something. As she neared the house she heard several raps against her front door. Sabrina hastened her step, all but running around the corner of the house. She didn’t get many callers these days, and she didn’t want this one to inadvertently wake up her sleeping child. She still had more outside work to do.

Who would be dropping by this time of day, anyway? Most folks she knew were busy working until dusk. God, she hoped nothing had happened to Charlie.

A tall, broad-shouldered man, his back turned to her, stood at her front door.

“Can I help you?” she called hesitantly as she neared the porch. There was something familiar about his stance, she decided just as he turned around.

Court.

A chunk of ice formed in Sabrina’s stomach. Had someone told him about Ryan? Could he know already? She resisted the impulse to shake her head. That couldn’t be. No one knew Court was Ryan’s father. No one but the doctor, that is.

“What do you want?” Sabrina asked coldly.

That gray gaze settled onto hers, and Sabrina’s heart took an extra foolish beat. How could any man look that good? Mile-wide shoulders, lean waist. She shook herself. This was no time to be admiring Court’s many physical assets. He was standing on her porch, only a few feet from where Ryan lay sleeping. She suddenly remembered the monitor she held and quickly tucked it into the back of her waistband. Her heart bumped into high speed.

“We need to talk, Brin.”

His voice was low, steady, and too gentle. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to look at him. “I’d like you to leave, Court,” she said sternly. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

Sabrina stood her ground near the steps. She would not give him any remote hope that he might be invited in. To her utter relief he moved across the porch and down the steps, his slow, fluid movements making it difficult for her to breathe. There had always been something about the way he moved. It was more than mere male cockiness…something sensual yet predatory.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He slowly rotated his hat in his hands, his gaze seemingly uncertain. Could he be nervous? She almost laughed out loud at that notion. The one thing Court Brody had always been was absolutely certain of himself. And with good reason. He was strong, powerfully built, and more intelligent than any man she had ever known.

But his heart was hardened with bitterness and resentment. And nothing Sabrina had ever done had changed that.

“I wish you’d reconsider, Brin.”

He still called her Brin. No one but Court had ever called her by that nickname past the age of fifteen. Not even her father.

“Don’t call me that.” She swiped her damp palms against her thighs. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“I need you to understand how important being a part of the militia is for me.”

His words stunned her. “You are kidding?” she blurted. “You don’t see through Neely?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought you were some big, hotshot FBI agent. What happened, Court? Did you get bored with that, too?” Lord knew the man had a restless streak a mile wide, one that cut straight through that rock in his chest he called a heart.

He blinked but gave away nothing of his feelings. Just like always, she would never know what he was really feeling.

“I don’t want to talk about the Bureau or D.C.” He stared at the ground a moment. “I’m trying to put that behind me.” His gaze latched onto hers once more. “I want to start over. Here.”

If she’d thought he’d stunned her before, she was completely astonished now. “Here?” she parroted. “Now I know you’re joking.”

A muscle twitched in his chiseled jaw. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Sabrina laughed dryly. “It’s downright unfathomable.”

Irritation marred his handsome features. “Be that as it may, I’m back. I don’t think folks around here would understand about my time in the Bureau. I’d rather you didn’t mention it.”

“I see,” she replied with sudden clarity. “You don’t want Brother Neely to know you were once an actual fed, is that it?”

“Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be, Brin,” he warned. This time there was nothing at all gentle about his tone.

He stepped nearer…too close. Sabrina held her ground, despite the butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

“No one else knows but you,” he reminded in a low, lethal tone that sent shivers skittering up her spine. “But I’m not worried ’cause I know you wouldn’t do anything to make trouble for me.”

He had her there. No matter what he’d done in the past. No matter how badly he had hurt her. Sabrina would never do anything to hurt him—except keep her own secret. But that was to protect Ryan, she rationalized, when she knew damn well it was to protect herself. She couldn’t lose her son. No way.

She remembered to exhale. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it,” she said tightly.

Those silvery depths softened then, and he almost smiled. The quirking of his lips was so subtle that had she not been looking at him so intently she would surely have missed the movement. Her pulse fluttered at the absolute beauty of those lips.

“I owe you,” he murmured, even closer now.

Panic trickled through her, slowing her body’s instant fight-or-flight reaction to his proximity. Ryan could wake up any moment and start screaming for his mommy—or worse, he could climb out of the crib and toddle onto the porch. That image opened the floodgates of her anxiety.

“I’d like you to leave now, Court.” She started to take a step back, but he moved again, stalling her. His hand came up to her face, and those long, tanned fingers smoothed that forever-errant wisp of hair from her cheek. Warmth spread through her so fast that it made her light-headed. How could a mere touch affect her so?

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Brin.” He searched her eyes, looking for forgiveness or maybe just trying to read what he saw there. “I hope you know that.”

“We’re not talking about the past, remember?” she protested, however shakily.

He swallowed hard. She watched the slow movement of muscle beneath smooth, tanned skin. “Right.” He studied her face a moment longer, as if committing to memory the changes time and worry had wrought.

“Goodbye, Court.” This time Sabrina stepped away from him. She needed distance. And a new heart. One that wouldn’t let Court Brody inside.

“I’ll be back,” he warned, “and then we’ll set things straight.”

Sabrina watched him stalk back to his truck. He dropped behind the wheel, and then drove away. She didn’t move until he’d disappeared in the direction of town—or more accurately, the militia compound.

“Don’t come back, Court,” she murmured, her heart sinking. “I can’t survive losing you again.”

CHAPTER TWO

STILL TIRED FROM yesterday’s cleaning frenzy, Sabrina smiled for her son and ruffled his silky brown hair. He gurgled and cooed, his gray eyes sparkling as he bounced up and down in anticipation of his mother scooping him up.

“Sorry, sweetie, Mommy has something she has to do this morning.” She hated to leave him, but she sure couldn’t take him with her to the compound.

Ryan protested, jerking against the brightly colored sides of his playpen.

“I don’t like the idea of you going out to that place, Sabrina,” Mrs. Cartwright said softly, her aged voice as heavy with worry as her faded blue eyes. “I’ve heard some pretty disturbing rumors about what they’re doing out there.”

Sabrina folded her arms over her middle and turned away from the concerned gaze that studied her too closely. She’d known Mrs. Cartwright forever, and she trusted her completely. “I don’t know what else to do. They’ve offered to let me help with home schooling some of the younger children.” She shrugged. “It’s just for a couple of hours a day.”

The older woman moved to her side and ruffled Ryan’s hair as Sabrina had only moments ago. He babbled his approval at the attention. “But you already work too hard,” Mrs. Cartwright argued. “You don’t need another job.” She shook her head and gazed up at Sabrina. “Especially not at that place and one that doesn’t pay. You should be with your son.”

A weary sigh slipped past Sabrina’s lips. How could she explain that she didn’t have a choice in the matter? “It’s the only way I have of keeping an eye on Charlie. He won’t listen to anything I say anymore.”

“He’s a good boy, Sabrina,” Mrs. Cartwright protested. “He’s just missing a father figure in his life. He’ll come around.”

Sabrina scrubbed a hand over her face and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “I know. But, God, couldn’t he have looked anywhere but to Neely?” She prayed that her elderly friend was right and that Charlie would come around…soon.

“Lots of folks considerably older than Charlie are following the man.” Mrs. Cartwright sighed, the effort heaving from her thin chest. “Joshua Neely seems to have what they’re looking for, as frightening as that sounds.”

Instantly, Court sprang to Sabrina’s mind. How could he fall for a guy like Neely? It just didn’t make sense to her, no matter what his excuse. Sabrina had a sneaking suspicion that Court wasn’t being completely honest with her. How could he just up and walk away from the FBI? He had been in love with the whole damned super-agent mystique. He sure hadn’t been in love with her. She suppressed the old hurt that accompanied that thought.

Her gaze drifted down to Ryan. Having given up on his mommy rescuing him from his red-and-blue prison, he now sat playing with his spongy stacking blocks. Court may have broken her heart, but he had given her the one thing that got her through each day—her son. His birth had coincided with the realization that hard financial times were ahead, not to mention Charlie’s plunge into adolescence and his subsequent rebellious behavior.

Ryan made life bearable. She would protect him from the hurtful games adults played. No one—not even Court—would hurt her son. Sabrina would see to that.

“I have to get going.” Sabrina bent down and dropped a kiss on her baby’s sweet head. She forced a smile for her elderly friend. “I’ll be back around lunchtime.”

Mrs. Cartwright followed Sabrina to the door. “Be careful, Sabrina.” She smoothed a hand over the tight bun she’d twisted her gray tresses into. “I worry about you, you know.”

Taller than most women, Sabrina leaned down and gave Mrs. Cartwright a quick hug. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, I’m tougher than I look. Just take good care of my little boy.” Besides, Sabrina didn’t add, with her long legs she could probably outrun most of the men she knew—Joshua Neely and his cohorts included.

Mrs. Cartwright waved goodbye from the door as Sabrina backed away from the house. She drove to the end of the dirt road that served as a driveway to the Cartwright place and then pointed her old truck in the direction of the militia compound. Sabrina glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. How long had it been since she had bothered with makeup? Two years, an impatient voice reminded her.

“You’re pathetic, Korbett,” she accused.

Not only had she dabbed on a touch of makeup, she’d taken the time to French-braid her hair. A haphazard ponytail was her usual hairdo. Sabrina huffed her disgust. To make matters worse she had scrounged around until she found her best pair of jeans and her one almost-new blouse she saved for wearing to Ryan’s pediatrician appointments.

She scowled at the road before her. So what was wrong with wanting to look her best? After all, she was going to a job of sorts. There would be other women there who would probably be dressed similarly. Just because she took a little more care than usual today didn’t mean she’d done it for Court.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered.

Truly pathetic.

Sabrina braked to a stop in front of the gate leading to the compound. She kept her gaze straight ahead as the armed guard—Jed Markham, a man she had known her entire life—inspected her truck inside and out. She clenched her teeth at the fury that unfurled inside her. A twelve-foot-high chain-link fence, topped with concertina wire, protected the compound from intruders. Four manned observation towers stood in strategic locations. The place looked like a military base prepared for war. The hard-core followers, like the one circling her old truck now, even wore military garb.

Jed waved an arm and the gate slowly opened in front of her. “You can pass,” he barked.

“Didn’t find anything suspicious, huh?” Sabrina asked, baiting him sweetly, with a matching sugary smile. “I guess I hid that bomb better than I thought.”

Jed simply glared at her as he worked the wad of tobacco in his mouth until he could spit.

Sabrina rolled her eyes and drove on through the gate. She parked near the meeting hall, which also held the two classrooms, and climbed out into the brisk morning air. Fall was right around the corner. Then winter would be here before she knew it. She dreaded the bad weather to come. If Charlie didn’t come back home to help her—she would not think that way. She would win him back…somehow. She had to make him see that men like Neely were only taking advantage of the good intentions of the people here. She just hoped she wouldn’t be too late.

“Morning, Sabrina,” Lorie Beecham called out as Sabrina made her way into the classroom. “We’re sure glad to have you. We’ve got two new students this morning.”

Sabrina surveyed the dozen or so children in the room. How could people bring their innocent children to a place like this? She resisted the urge to shiver. Someone had to stop Neely before something bad happened.

But who?

Her thoughts went automatically to Court. She forced his image from her mind. She had to remember that he was a part of this now….

He was one of them.

COURT APPRAISED Joshua Neely’s office as he waited for the man to show up for their scheduled meeting. The young man who served as Neely’s personal assistant or secretary of sorts had insisted that Court have a seat and wait since Neely was expected back momentarily. But Court didn’t want to sit. Instead, he paced, surveying Neely’s framed mementos.

Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined one wall. Law books filled most of the shelves. According to the intelligence Court had on Neely, the man held a degree in political science as well as law. The office furnishings were an odd blend of typical middle-management style and more elegant oak pieces probably donated by enamored followers. The only disturbing elements were the newspaper clippings of high profile cases between other militia groups and the federal authorities, framed and hanging on nearly every available inch of wall space. Then there were the banners proclaiming Neely’s position on the law of the land. True Freedom Lies in the Heart of the Sons and Daughters of this Great Land. We Shall End the Oppression.

Court caught himself before he shook his head. Between the rally and a mostly sleepless night in the barracks with a group of particularly fervent followers, he was edgy this morning. Two weeks of hanging out at the Watering Hole, a hangout where one or more militia members could always be found, had finally paid off yesterday. Court moved back to the desk and dropped into one of the available chairs. The undertones in Neely’s speech at the rally and the intense reaction of those present had seriously unsettled Court. This wasn’t the first group of this nature he had investigated, but this one was certainly the most enthusiastic. Yet, it was something more that had him so uneasy. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.