Baby Battalion Read online

  The skinny young man at the front counter gave Tess a friendly greeting, but it was clear that he didn’t know what to make of her two companions in dark glasses with shoulder holsters. His voice squeaked, “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s all fine,” Tess assured him. “Can we go into the back room to proofread?”

  Soarez stayed at the front to keep an eye on the door while Nolan accompanied Tess into a small room with a big window looking out at the store. He sat beside her. “I can help. I’ve been over the guest list with Lila, so I know most of the names.”

  “You read,” she said. “I’ll check.”

  The proofreading process was the same as when they sent out their wedding invitations. Though they’d kept the ceremony simple and within a budget, they had invited two hundred friends and family. As they fell into the pattern, he wondered how she thought about their life together. He knew she mourned the death of Joe Donovan. But did she ever look back on the good times? What stood out in her mind?

  Most often, he recalled the little things. Seeing her patent leather high heels on the floor beside the bed. Hearing her sing off-key in the shower. Watching her sleep. He had never taken her for granted. From the start, he’d known that he was blessed.

  It was becoming clear that he had to tell her who he was. The longer he kept the secret, the harder it would be to finally pull back the curtain and reveal the truth. He knew she’d be angry. He hoped she’d forgive him.

  Looking down at the list of names, he lost his place for a moment. “The next one is Leonard O’Malley with an ‘e’.”

  She flipped through the place cards until she found the name, then she checked her wristwatch and frowned. “This is taking too long. It’s already after two o’clock.”

  “If we leave by three, there’s still enough time to get into the city and see your caterers.”

  “I’m not sure it’s necessary.” She leaned back in the plastic chair and stared up at the ceiling. “These people have catered other events at the Smithsonian. They come highly recommended. By checking their preparations, I might be acting like an annoying micromanager.”

  “You could never be annoying.”

  She slowly lowered her gaze and looked at him. Her smile was sly and adorable. “Nolan, you have no idea.”

  But he did, of course. He’d been the guy who drove her all over town to look for a specific fresh herb. He’d been the taster who tried six varieties of vanilla cupcake before picking the one that had the best flavor. “You’re a perfectionist. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I was almost killed today.” A hint of fear flashed in her eyes. “That’s a wake-up call that can’t be ignored. I’m too intense about my career.”

  “Because you’re good at it.”

  “I am. I definitely am. Frankly, every detail of Lila’s event is already planned. Even if I don’t race all over town checking and double-checking, there’s a ninety percent chance that everything will be fine.” She tapped on the tabletop with her right forefinger as though pointing out the obvious. “I need to focus on what is really, truly important.”

  “Joey,” he said.

  “And finding Bart.” She confronted him again. “That phone call you had to take was about him, wasn’t it?”

  He gave a quick nod. “I have an address and phone number for Victor’s former nanny.”

  “When you meet with her, I want to come along.”

  “Every time you leave Pierpont House, you’re in danger.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that? I’ve been thinking, and it occurred to me that the bad guys didn’t really know it was me in the car with you. They might have been coming after Lila or somebody else.”

  Greenaway’s men wouldn’t make such a rookie mistake. “Don’t kid yourself. They knew your identity.”

  “How? They were halfway down the block.”

  “Current developments in long-range vision technology allow clear sight for over two hundred yards.”

  “Long-range vision?”

  “Binoculars,” he said. “Think of binoculars that are a million times more powerful than anything you’ve ever looked through.”

  “Oh.”

  “I understand that you want to be involved, but you’re a civilian. The best thing for you to do is stay safe.”

  “We’ll see.” She stood and gathered up the documents they’d been proofreading. “I can finish this later. Right now, I want to go to my house and pick up a few things. Tomorrow is soon enough to meet with the caterer.”

  Though he was a supposedly determined Aries, Nolan was no match for Tess when she’d made a decision. All he could do was follow in her wake and make sure she wasn’t injured while she plunged forward.

  For the ride to her house, she stayed in the backseat of the Hummer with him while Soarez drove using the GPS for directions to her house. Tess took the opportunity to point out that she’d been helpful when he talked to Lila. Wouldn’t she be equally helpful in dealing with Roxanne? The nanny might be more willing to open up with another woman.

  “You’re kind of intimidating,” she said.

  “It works for me,” he said. “People know I’m not kidding around. They’ll do what I want.”

  She raised her hand to cover a grin.

  “What?” he asked. “Did I say something funny?”

  “You’re not as scary as you think you are. Joey had your number from the minute you walked in the door. Within a minute of meeting you, he’d wangled an invitation to take him horseback riding in Texas.”

  From the front seat, Soarez called out, “You got it right, Tess. Nolan is a pussycat.”

  “Just keep your eyes on the road,” Nolan growled.

  “We’re here.”

  Soarez pulled into the driveway and parked. Since her house was a likely target for Greenaway’s men, they took extra precautions in their approach. Leaving Tess inside the Hummer, Nolan and Soarez went to the back door and entered with their guns drawn and ready.

  Nolan moved through the kitchen into the living room.

  Greenaway had already been here.

  The house was ransacked.

  Tess was going to be furious.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tess stood in the middle of her living room, shocked and angry. Slowly, she turned in a circle. Everywhere she looked was another example of heedless destruction. She really didn’t mind that the sofa cushions had been slashed. Replacing that piece of furniture had been on her agenda. But she hated to see her cherished mementos scattered and broken.

  These intruders, these vandals, these monsters had attacked her Christmas tree. The poor thing lay on its side with the multicolored lights blinking sadly through the tinsel. The ornaments were strewn about. The angel that topped the tree had lost her halo and her wings.

  She had pleasant memories attached to some of the decorations. But none had great monetary value. Nor were they irreplaceable. The damage was senseless, which made it even more infuriating.

  Turning her back on the tree, she went toward the rolltop desk. The photograph of her and Joe in the Bahamas had been torn from the wall. She bent her knees and picked it up. The glass was shattered as though the intruders had stomped on it with heavy boots.

  The glass could be replaced. Most of the damage could be repaired, but she would never forget how she felt in this moment. Vicious strangers had violated her home. Any doubts she had about being the intended victim were gone.

  Nolan stood beside her. “I have to ask you not to touch anything. There might be fingerprints or trace evidence.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “The CIA,” he said. “Omar Harris and a forensic team are on their way. They have access to the best labs in the country. They’ll find who did this.”

  “Thank God I didn’t bring Joey home.”

  “I’ll get everything put back together before he sees it,” Nolan said. “I promise you that.”

  She gently placed the broken picture frame o
n the rolltop desk. “What were they looking for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  When she took a step, glass crunched under her boot heel. She didn’t want to mess up the possible evidence, but this was her house. The idea of having Omar and a team of CIA specialists pawing through her things was only slightly less disturbing than the original assault.

  Looking down the hallway, she clenched her jaw. “How bad are the bedrooms?”

  “Torn up,” Nolan said. “Not much is broken.”

  “I need to get a few things for me and Joey. If that’s a problem for the CIA, I don’t give a damn.”

  He didn’t object. “Take whatever you need. I’ll help.”

  In the bedroom, her clothing had been rifled through and dumped on the floor. The mattress on the king-size bed she’d once shared with her husband had been tossed off the box springs. She reached under the bed and grasped the edge of a black plastic garbage bag which she pulled out.

  Immediately, she looked inside. “I’m glad they didn’t find this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Joey’s Christmas presents. And there’s a two-wheel bike with training wheels in the garage.” She lifted her chin. “I’m taking these things with me.”

  “No argument.”

  Soarez came into the room with another big plastic bag. “I’m sorry, Tess, but the CIA won’t want you to remove anything from the crime scene.”

  “It’s my house.” She didn’t mean to snap at him, but couldn’t help herself. “Before it was a crime scene, I lived her with my son. With my husband. Joe and I bought this house. We furnished it.”

  Her anger was building toward a full-scale explosion with lava shooting from the top of her head. This wasn’t fair. She’d done nothing wrong. She didn’t deserve this.

  Nolan’s voice was gentle. “You’re right to be mad.”

  “Oh, good, because I don’t think I can stop myself.”

  “But you need to be practical. Let’s get the stuff you need and get out before the forensic people arrive.” He snapped a black plastic bag open. “Start with your clothes.”

  She’d always been a careful packer, the kind of person who rolled her shirts and used tissue paper to prevent wrinkles. But this was an emergency. She grabbed what she might need for the next few days and threw it into the bag. “All of these things have to be washed before I can wear them.”

  “There’s a laundry service at Pierpont House,” Nolan said.

  From the floor in the closet, she grabbed the brand-new emerald silk cocktail dress she’d purchased for the dinner at the Smithsonian. Since it was still in the plastic bag from the store, she wouldn’t have to clean it. She tossed in shoes, including comfortable sneakers, and jackets and shirts. “That’s enough.”

  Nolan handed the bag of Joey’s presents to Soarez. “Put this in the Hummer. There’s also a brand-new two-wheeler in the garage.”

  Joey’s room was less chaotic than the rest of the house. A few things had been tossed around, and the drawers in his dresser hung open. She made sure that she took the two large containers for his building blocks. And she scooped up a bunch of his clothes. Her son wouldn’t care if he wore the same shirt for three or four days, but she cared. She also took his dress-up suit in case had to come along with her for the Smithsonian event.

  “Is that everything?” Nolan asked. “We need to hurry.”

  “Andy Panda.” She looked on the bed where the raggedy stuff animal usually sat. “I don’t see it.”

  “What does it look like?”

  “Black and white, obviously. It’s about the size of a fat squirrel and kind of mangled. Andy Panda is Joey’s favorite thing to sleep with. Bart gave it to him.”

  A horrible thought occurred to her. “What if Bart hid something in the stuffed animal? Some kind of microchip or a secret flash drive or something.”

  “Or not,” Nolan said.

  “It makes sense.” She gestured to Joey’s room. “They didn’t make as much of a mess in here. If they were looking for Andy Panda, they’d stop searching when they found it.”

  “You’ve been watching too many spy movies.” He reached behind the end of the bed and fished around, then he felt against the wall until he pulled the black-and-white toy. “Is this the panda in question?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Law.” She snatched it from his hand and stalked toward the door. “Let’s rock and roll.”

  SAFELY BACK AT Pierpont House, Tess knew she’d made the right decision about rescheduling the meeting with the caterer. She wasn’t fit to do business; her emotions were all over the place. Angry and scared. Perplexed and defiant. You name it, she felt it. Most of all, she was fiercely maternal, watching over Joey as he played with the other kids. How was she going to tell him that someone had broken into their house? Did he need to know? Could she just pretend that everything was all right?

  Though she wanted to believe the situation couldn’t get worse, she remembered the old adage: Bad things come in threes. What else? What the hell else could go wrong?

  She managed to hold it together long enough for a phone call to Trudy, who had checked in with the florist, the ice sculptor and the bakery that was creating a four-foot-tall cake replicating the Alamo with figures of Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie. Preparations for the Smithsonian event seemed to be on track, but Tess couldn’t help worrying. Another disaster was lurking; she could feel it coming closer.

  After checking out the third-floor bedroom where she and Joey would be staying, she got their clothes started in the laundry room. Then she joined Stacy and Lindsay in the kitchen where they were supervising the kids while they made Christmas cookies.

  Though Tess was an experienced caterer, she didn’t offer any advice about the recipe or the crazy way the kids decorated the sugar cookies. This exercise wasn’t about being gourmet. It was fun for the kids.

  Stacy and Lindsay were lighthearted. Both were caught in the throes of new love with their mates, and neither of them had expected to find such passion. Only a few months ago, they had both been single moms like Tess.

  While the kids smeared green and red frosting, she stepped back to lean against the counter beside the other moms. This was a good opportunity for her to dig up some dirt on Nolan. “I know the basics about him,” she said. “But what’s his personal life like? Has he ever been married? What’s his story?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Lindsay shrugged. She was a rancher—the kind of woman who put absolutely no effort into grooming her long auburn hair but still looked gorgeous.

  “He gives a whole new definition to strong and silent,” Stacy said. “Nolan isn’t big on sharing. I think there was some horrible tragedy in his past.”

  “Something more horrible than being blown up in Afghanistan?” Tess asked.

  Stacy lowered her voice so the kids wouldn’t hear. “I think there was a woman. Somebody he loved and lost.”

  “One thing is for sure,” Lindsay said, “Nolan is the alpha dog. He’s second-in-command after Bart, and the other guys look up to him, even though he’s not much older than anybody else.”

  “CSaI is his life,” Stacy confirmed. “He’s like a son to Bart.”

  Tess suspected that Bart would prefer a son like Nolan Law, a man who was a hero and generated automatic respect from his coworkers. Victor must have been a disappointment.

  “Nolan likes you,” Lindsay said. “I’ve never seen him so smitten.”

  “I like him, too.” She smiled. “And so does Joey.”

  “So important,” Stacy said. “Harlan is much better with Zachary than his father ever was. By the way, Tess, your boy is wonderful with Zachary. I mean, look at them.”

  Zachary and Joey had pretty much given up on decorating the cookies and were painting each other with icing. “They’re something else, all right. Do you mind helping Joey wash up while I get my laundry?”

  “I’m happy to watch Joey,” Stacy said, “but you don’t have to mess with the laundry. Let
the service handle it.”

  “I don’t mind doing it myself.”

  In fact, she was looking forward to spending a few moments alone. After she gathered up their clothes, she climbed the back stairway to their bedroom on the third floor. Sorting and folding the laundry made her feel like she was creating a nest, a place where she and Joey would be cozy and safe.

  She hung the last of their clothes in the small closet, placed Andy Panda in the middle of his twin bed and smoothed the quilt. Even the tiny spare bedroom in this house was nicely decorated with two brass frame beds, a dresser and a small window.

  Long ago when the house was first built, the third floor had probably been the servant’s quarters. The layout reminded her of a dormitory with four small bedrooms on either side of a long hallway. On this floor, there were only two bathrooms—one at each end of the hall.

  Joey bounded through the door and dove onto the bed. “Mommy? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, kiddo.”

  “Why are we staying here?”

  How much should she tell him? She remembered when he started asking questions about his father’s death. That talk had been incredibly hard, and this was equally complicated. She wouldn’t lie, that much was certain. But she couldn’t dump the whole truth on him. Joey was a kid. There wasn’t much he could do to help her, and she didn’t want to burden him with more than he could handle.

  She sat on the bed beside him and started in. “There are some bad things happening.”

  “Like Bart,” he said. “You said that he went away and you can’t find him.”

  “That’s right. Bart didn’t want to go away, but he had to.” She wanted to add that Bart would come back, but she couldn’t be sure. “We’re trying to find him.”

  “You and Mr. Law,” he said.

  “And many other people, too. Zachary’s dad and the twins’ dad and everybody. We all love Bart.”

  He grabbed Andy Panda, rolled onto his back and held the stuffed toy close so he could look into the button eyes. “Don’t worry, Andy Panda. We’ll find Bart.”

  Joey always leaned toward the positive, and she was grateful for that. He was also as straightforward as an arrow. He scowled at her. “What’s the bad stuff?”