Max remembered the story Scout had told him about how she'd come to be a P.I., and he couldn't see her letting go so easily. Her father and her uncle had originally started the business after retiring from the military about eight years back. Then, two years ago, her father had pa.s.sed away and her uncle had semi-retired, choosing the posh job with Alexon over continuing to work the private investigations field without his friend and partner. Scout considered the business all that she had left of her father, and had decided to take it over herself. She'd been working cases between college cla.s.ses, anyway.

She was a crackerjack investigator, she'd bragged, and a h.e.l.l of a recovery agent. Max could see her going after some big guy who'd jumped bail. The thought made him smile despite his somber surroundings.

He'd also learned that ever since her mother had died, when Scout was really young, she'd traveled a lot with her father, during his military days. Like Max, she'd lived in Colombia for three of those years. During their twenty-one days in quarantine, they'd learned that they had a lot in common aside from physical chemistry.

Max frowned. Why had he simply let her walk away? He'd disciplined himself not to think about her all this time-well, most of it, anyway. But now he was asking himself all kinds of questions, and he had no answers. He should have tried harder to change her mind about going back to Texas, or at least attempted to pursue a long-distance relationship.

But he hadn't. And now she was in trouble.

Could he have prevented this from happening if he'd been there for her? Or would he have just been in the way when she and her ex-boyfriend reunited? Max clenched his jaw at the thought.

G.o.d, he was a wreck. He had to stop a.n.a.lyzing the past, and focus on the present. It was the only way he could help Scout now. Whether she'd gone back to the other guy or not, he had to help her.

"Heads up." Cooper's voice echoed in his earpiece. "We've got a dark trench coat on the move at two o'clock."

Max looked slightly to his right until he had the subject in view. Female for sure, he decided, noting the toned legs and high heels beneath the concealing trench coat. He was on the move even as he a.s.similated the data, heading in that direction.

Men and women, most dressed in black, were wandering away from the burial site, moving into his path. Max deftly dodged each intrusion, gaining speed with every step.

"I'm on the ground and headed your way," Cooper informed him.

"Almost on her," Max murmured, moving faster and faster.

She hadn't looked back, and was practically running herself now. But Max was faster.

Two more seconds ... and he had her.

He grabbed her by the forearm and whirled her around to face him, simultaneously skidding to a halt.

Breathing hard and ready to shake her for running, he stared down into her face, looking beyond the big hat and dark gla.s.ses she'd used as camouflage.

A stranger.

"What are you doing?" the woman demanded, jerking free of his hold. She flashed a personnel badge. "I'm from the Tribune. I have a right to be here. You can't keep the press out of a breaking news event."

Max closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Dammit. It wasn't her. Just a d.a.m.n reporter.

"Sorry," he said. He backed off, giving the angry lady some s.p.a.ce. "I thought you were someone else."

She glared at him, then spun on her heel and rushed away.

Cooper emerged from a nearby copse of trees. "Sorry, Max. I couldn't see her face. And she was practically running away from the service." He shrugged. "Looked suspicious to me."

"It's okay. I thought the same thing."

"I guess our lady's a no-show," Cooper suggested as he glanced around the cemetery.

Max scrubbed a hand over his face, vaguely noting that it was only two-thirty and already he had five o'clock stubble. "So far, anyhow," he said, more to himself than to Cooper.

"You think she still might put in an appearance?"

Max considered that for a moment, then, without reservation, said, "Yes. She'll be here. She loved this guy. Saying goodbye is something she'll have to do."

"Well, then. I'll get back to my post."

Max shook his head. "I think I can handle this for now. With the crowd gone, she'll stand out like a sore thumb if she shows. You go back to the office and get in touch with her a.s.sistant again. Find out if Scout has called in." Max considered for a bit before continuing. "I've got a better idea." He met Cooper's expectant gaze. "I want you to go down to Houston and interview the a.s.sistant in person. She may be holding out on us. If anyone knows where Scout is, it'll be her."

"Good call," Cooper allowed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I'd like to check out Miss Jackson's apartment, as well. I'll let you know the moment I have anything worth pa.s.sing on."

Max watched him go, having no doubt that his colleague would learn whatever the receptionist knew, and find anything worth finding at Scout's apartment. Scout's a.s.sistant wouldn't stand a chance against Cooper's sophisticated charm. If he couldn't get the truth out of her, no one could.

After walking the cemetery grounds once more for good measure, Max selected a vantage point high on a hillside to watch for Scout. As he settled in for a long evening of surveillance, he took solace in one thing: she would be here. There was no two ways about it.

Scout would come to pay her respects.

And he would be waiting.

Chapter Three.

Scout waited a full hour after darkness fell before making her move. If the cops or any of Alexon's secret security team were out there they'd have to be using night vision binoculars to see her. But then, she didn't discount that possibility, since Alexon's team was highly trained and well equipped. This wasn't your typical security detail. These guys were far more mercenary than your retired cop moonlighting to make an extra buck, or some dude on a power trip trying to use the uniform to get dates.

No, these were the kind of professionals a smart person avoided at all costs. Unfortunately, right now Scout couldn't do smart. Her chin trembled at the thought of her uncle Harold. Though he wasn't her real uncle, she couldn't have loved him more if he had been. For as long as she could remember he'd been a part of her life. He'd been there for her at age twelve when her father had gone on a mission where military dependents weren't allowed, and he'd stood by her two years ago when her father had been murdered and her whole world had collapsed.

Harold Atkins had been her rock. He was the only family she had left in the world and now he was gone.

Scout blinked back burning tears. She focused on the present, pushing all other thoughts away. Harold was dead. Though she hadn't seen the killer's face, she would lay money on his being a member of Alexon's watchdog commandos. He'd ruthlessly murdered Harold right before her eyes. She herself had barely escaped capture. Only two things mattered to her at this point: bringing the person responsible for Harold's death to justice, and protecting herself.

To protect herself was to safeguard the tiny life growing inside her. Coming here was a risk to her and the baby, that was true. But it was the only way to catch the killer. If she simply disappeared, then justice would never be served. She would see to that, if nothing else, then she would disappear.

Hard as she tried, she had been unable as of yet to solve her father's homicide. But she'd been out of the loop where his professional life was concerned. It was different this time. She was involved, knew the whole deal. And she'd witnessed the murder. Even if she hadn't seen the killer's face, she would never forget the way he moved or the sound of his voice.

With the stealth she'd learned from the master himself-her father-she moved through the cemetery, weaving between the rows of ma.s.sive monuments and more discreet headstones. The glow from the full moon made the white carnations blanketing Harold's fresh grave gleam briefly before the clouds obscured the light once more. The cloudy night would work to her advantage. Like a conductor leading a symphony, she directed her respiration to a slow, steady rate, ordered her heart's rhythm to a calmer pace and kept her body's movements fluid. Any sudden move would draw attention to her position.

Scout wanted the element of surprise on her side. It was necessary, since there was only one of her and probably a half-dozen of the other guys.

Her plan wasn't perfect, but if it got her close enough to Harold's killer, he was going to fully understand the eye-for-an-eye theory of revenge. All she wanted was him, and then she was out of here. The retreat would be tricky, but she'd done tricky before. She'd spent the entire day yesterday studying this cemetery. Every grave marker, every tree and bench were familiar to her, each location firmly imprinted on her memory. She'd lead her pursuers on a merry chase and she would get away for two reasons: overconfidence and mandatory restraint. They outnumbered her, so they would automatically a.s.sume she'd be an easy target, thus the overconfidence. Specific orders had been given that she was to be returned to Alexon unharmed, therefore the restraint.

Scout moved into more treacherous territory now. She skirted one last headstone and stepped into the small open area where her uncle had been buried. This was the newest section of the cemetery, with only a few graves and no trees-meaning no cover to speak of.

If anyone waited for her in the darkness, he would see her now.

Minutes ticked by, the night sounds seeming to grow louder with each pa.s.sing second. A September breeze whispered through the leaves of the trees a few yards away, ushering toward her the scents of evergreens and freshly turned earth. Her gaze drifted down to her uncle's final resting place, and the sting of tears a.s.saulted her once more.

He'd tried to protect her and he'd paid with his life.

Now she had no one. She flattened one trembling hand against her still-flat belly. But that would change in a few months. All she had to do was keep herself and this baby safe. Another image flitted through the back of her thoughts: of sandy-blond hair and blue eyes and a body to die for.

Scout shook off thoughts of Pierce Maxwell. He was the last complication she needed in her life.

He'd walked away four months ago without looking back. So she'd done the same. But he could have at least called. She'd almost called him ... once. Scout barely caught herself before she sighed. Oh well, it was too late now, anyway. He'd likely forgotten all about her.

There wasn't much chance she'd be forgetting him. But, she reminded herself, her memories of him were most likely overblown. They'd spent those intense hours in the jungle together, and he had risked his life to save hers and Dr. Kirstenof's. The whole hero scenario had probably blinded her to the reality that he was just a guy. Three weeks of forced isolation in his company instantly whizzed through her mind like a video on Fast Forward. Okay, he was more than just a guy. He was ...

The rustle of gra.s.s to her right jerked her back to the here and now.

About time.

Scout eased into position, drawing her weapon from her waistband at the small of her back. Gun in hand, she stayed absolutely still for three more beats. Nothing. Not a single sound.

What the h.e.l.l were they waiting for? They'd have to be idiots or blind not to know she was right in front of them, barely concealed by the one large headstone in this section of the cemetery.

She listened intently for the slightest audible movement. Leaves tumbled across the gra.s.s, drawing her gaze to the right, where autumn's first castoffs swirled, then lodged against the grave markers blocking their path. The varying sizes and shapes of the tombstones created unearthly shadows in the faint moonlight, giving a sinister feel. A bat dipped wildly, then zoomed upward to the protective canopy of the nearby trees.

Scout frowned. This wasn't right, somehow. Any investigator or operations strategist worth his salt would antic.i.p.ate her appearance at the cemetery to pay her respects to her uncle.

Alexon wouldn't just give up, write her off.

They wanted her ... No, that wasn't exactly right. They wanted- A hand clamped over her mouth at the same instant another one manacled her right wrist, so her weapon dangled uselessly. Scout's heart nearly stopped, then pounded fiercely against her sternum.

"Don't-"

In a single instant Scout noted two things and accomplished another. This guy didn't have his weapon drawn, since he was using both hands on her, and secondly, her left arm was free. Before he could utter another word she slammed her left elbow into his gut and wrenched away from him.

He still managed to hang on to her right wrist. Sacrificing the weapon, she dropped it and twisted out of his hold, then ran like h.e.l.l.

"Wait!"

The male voice almost made her hesitate ... almost. She pushed forward. Zigzagged between headstones, even jumped over a few. Still he was right behind her.

"Scout!"

Hesitation slowed her.

She knew that voice.

It couldn't be- A heavy body slammed into hers. She lost her balance and they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. She tried to roll free, but he trapped her there. Fear seared through her. Alexon had given orders that she wasn't to be harmed, but that didn't guarantee she was entirely safe. And where were the others? She was looking for one guy in particular and this wasn't him. She was sure of it. She couldn't be caught yet.

Renewed determination roared through her veins and the fear evaporated. She wasn't going down easily. Fighting like a wildcat, Scout kicked and clawed for freedom.

Her a.s.sailant swore. The sound of his voice nagged at her again. Her mind raced with the concept that this might be- "Dammit, Scout! Stop fighting!" He grunted when the toe of her shoe make contact with his shin. "It's me! Max!"

Max.

Relief very nearly overwhelmed her and she went still.

"Are you going to behave yourself now?" he demanded, sounding none too happy.

There wasn't enough light to make out his features, but Scout could imagine those blue eyes glaring at her, that full mouth set in a grim line. Then a new kind of uneasiness erupted inside her.

This was not good.

The last thing she needed was Pierce Maxwell involved in all this. There were things he didn't know. Couldn't know. The uneasiness abruptly morphed into full-fledged fear. Alexon had sent him. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. Alexon, or more precisely her uncle as head of security, had hired the Colby Agency to find her once before.

Why else would Max be involved?

He had no way of knowing all the circ.u.mstances... .

He was one of them.

"Get off me!" She shoved at his mile-wide chest. "Now!" she demanded when he gave no indication that he intended to act immediately.

"As soon as I have your word that you won't do anything we'll both regret," he countered, his own voice demanding.

Heat was already pooling in her lower anatomy. How could her traitorous body react so quickly and insistently to the enemy? The idea made her furious.

"I said get off me!" She had her knee between his muscular thighs before he could react, but she stopped short of making full contact with her target. "Or else," she threatened.

Evidently knowing she was serious, he rose up on all fours, effectively freeing her from the prison his strong body made. "Just don't do anything rash," he reminded her. "I'm here to help you."

Scout scrambled away from him, but didn't run for it as she'd intended. She would hear him out; she owed him that, she supposed. Besides, he might be working for the enemy, but Max wasn't a bad guy.

"Did Alexon send you?" The question rang out between them with all the sharpness and accusation she'd intended. "If you're working for them we have nothing to discuss."

She folded her arms over her chest and glared in his direction-for all the good it would do in the darkness.

Max didn't want to risk hurting her. Manhandling her was the last thing he'd intended. He'd only meant to catch her off guard, since she was armed, and to ensure the least ruckus possible in case anyone was following either of them. Alexon had warned him that one of their compet.i.tors was on Scout's trail, as well.

"Are you all right?" he asked, unable to concentrate completely until he had the answer to that. He couldn't make out her face very well in the dark, but he'd felt her desperation in every toned muscle of her body. She was scared. What bothered him the most was that she obviously considered him to be aligned with the enemy.

"I'm just dandy," she retorted. "My uncle is dead and I'm on the run from his killer. I'd call that dandy, wouldn't you?"

He frowned. She thought someone in Alexon had killed her uncle? Or maybe she was referring to the compet.i.tor. Max reached out to her, but she jerked away from his touch. He couldn't understand why her reaction pained him so, but it did.

"I'm really sorry about your uncle," he said softly, knowing he had to say that regardless of what she thought of him. "Victoria asked me to pa.s.s along her condolences, as well." He heard the little catch in Scout's breath and his gut clenched. Here she was, sneaking around in a dark cemetery, trying to pay her respects to her uncle, and Max was supposed to take custody of her.

What did that make him?

The enemy.

"Thank you," she managed to answer, her voice wobbling a bit. "Now, what did they hire you to do? Are you supposed to bring me in or just shoot me where I stand?"