"I don't believe you're threatening me. I need to know if the occupants of those vehicles are a threat to you?"

"I would have told you if they were." The whisper was filled with hurt, uncertainty, and a shadow of betrayal.

Why would she feel betrayed?

He shook his head before raking his fingers through his hair. Yes, she would have told him; he'd been overwhelmed by his determination to protect her, his fear for her. He'd needed to know she was certain there was no danger in that vehicle. Before he could vocalize his fears his earbud communications set pinged, drawing his gaze to the table where he'd laid it.

Grimacing, he stalked to the table, flipped off the radio, and picked up the earbud, setting it in place before activating the link.

"Crowe here."

"I hate to bother you, my friend." Ivan's voice came over the line. "But we have visitors demanding entrance, and you will not believe who they have been identified as."

"Tell me," Crowe demanded, his gaze going to where Amelia stood watching him, her expression forlorn, her gaze shadowed with hurt and fear.

"None other than Commander Ethan Roberts, his brother, Jack, and the four men of Ready Team One. They are refusing to identify the two smaller heat sources though."

Ethan and Jack Roberts, owners and co-commanders of the independent military response team Ready Team One. There were four permanent members of their team, all accounted for. One of the smaller heat sources might be Amelia's mother.

"I believe the smallest heat source could be a child," Ivan mused.

A child?

Amelia's mother, Thea, had been rather young when she supposedly died, Crowe admitted. But he could have sworn he'd heard she hadn't been able to have any more children after Amelia.

"What would you have us do, Crowe?" Ivan continued.

"Patch me through to the gate," he ordered, his gaze still locked on Amelia's when he saw her flash of uncertainty and the strengthening of the shadowed fear.

She wasn't showing any sign of lying, though. Rather than gripping her hands in front of her, signaling evasiveness or deception, she stood with her arms relaxed at her sides.

The comm device clicked several times as the link was routed to the gate.

"Ethan," Crowe greeted the other man, thinking of the past years and the jobs that had brought them into contact with each other.

What did he have to do with Amelia?

The eyes. Amelia's were turquoise; Ethan's were the same color.

The color of her hair. The same as Ethan's.

Surely G.o.d's sense of humor couldn't be so cruel?

"h.e.l.lo, Crowe," Ethan answered. "May I see my daughter?"

Realization was slashing through Crowe even as Ethan spoke.

"Identify the two heat signatures you're hiding first," he demanded of the Ready Team One commander. "And I'll consider it."

He wasn't prepared for Amelia's response.

"No!" Terror filled her expression as well as her voice. Tears flooded her eyes and she rushed to him, her fingers gripping his arm desperately as a sob jerked from her chest.

Amelia was crying?

Sobbing? Amelia never sobbed.

"Please, Crowe, I'm begging you." The tears were running down her face in heavy rivulets now as she began trembling so hard she was almost shuddering, pulling at his arm, her breathing harsh. "Please don't. Let them come in. Anyone can pick up the conversation from the gate. I'm begging you not to let that happen."

"Crowe." Ethan's voice was heavy and somber. "Do as she asks. I swear to you, there's no danger coming to your door from either heat signature."

Crowe's gaze remained locked with Amelia's as a ghostly air of warning skated across his shoulders.

"Ivan, let them in," he answered, still watching Amelia's eyes, his chest tightening painfully as she laid her head against his arm, silent sobs still shaking her shoulders for several seconds.

"Are you certain?" the other man questioned, obviously having heard Amelia's pleas through the link.

"Let them in," he repeated. "Come to the front door and have John, Rory, and three other agents with you."

"Coming now." The link disconnected.

Amelia's head lifted from his arm, her face wet with the tears she had shed, her breathing still erratic.

"I can't risk Wayne hearing..." A sob jerked through her before she could control it. "I'm so sorry, Crowe," she cried, lifting her hand to cover her lips as more tears began falling down her face. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you ... I should have told you..."

He wouldn't let himself think. He couldn't.

There was too much rushing through his head, too many suspicions and too many implications. Her reaction, the sobs, and the terror that Wayne would hear something. The times Amelia had gone missing over the years, a few days here, a few days there. Clyde's call, three months after Crowe had left her, to tell him Amelia had come to the ranch, begging to get in touch with him. But she wouldn't tell Clyde what she wanted. She just wanted to talk to him.

She had needed to talk to him.

She hadn't said it was important. She hadn't said life or death was involved. Just that she had to talk to him.

Reaching out, he touched her face, using his thumb to brush a lingering tear from her cheek.

"What have you done, Amelia?" he asked her quietly, knowing and refusing to admit to what he knew.

"The only thing I could do," she answered, her voice tear-thick as she drew away from him. "The only thing I could do."

Turning away and wiping her eyes, she drew in a hard breath. Her fingers were still shaking as she straightened the top she wore, then stiffened her shoulders and moved for the door.

Explanations. She had come up to their room to talk to him, he remembered. His hunger for her had been too great to wait, though.

Crowe was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should have waited.

Amelia could feel Crowe moving behind her as she descended the stairs, aware of Ivan Resnova, several of his men, as well as Rory, John, and Ivan's uncle, Gregori Resnova, waiting in the foyer.

John caught her gaze, and what she read there had her shaking harder than ever.

Understanding.

John knew what, who, was coming.

She could feel it racing through her.

Ivan Resnova stepped forward as well as the four cousins he'd hired as security agents for the company he and Crowe co-owned with the other Callahan cousins.

"The vehicles are parked just outside, Crowe," Ivan stated, his cool gaze sliding over Amelia before returning to Crowe. "Are we certain this is safe?"

"It's safe," Crowe growled, but she could hear a thread of some emotion in his voice. An awareness perhaps. He didn't know exactly who was in the car, but did he suspect?

"Very well." Turning to Rory and another agent by the door, he nodded.

The front door was opened, four agents moving quickly outside it as Crowe brought Amelia to a stop at the bottom of the staircase.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't swallow. Panic was pushing at the edge of her mind, tempting her to just spill the truth before her parents walked in the door.

She heard the first curse.

Ivan had moved to the front door, and now his gaze turned to her in accusation.

Stepping aside he allowed her uncle, Jack Roberts, into the house. Behind him her mother rushed in, and then her father, Ethan, and the burden he carried. They were all surrounded by the four men who made up the independent Ready Team One.

It was Amelia's father's burden that held everyone's attention as her head lifted from Ethan's chest.

Brown and gold swirled together, creating an oddly penetrating gaze. Long, thick black hair was pulled back from a delicate, fragile little face with a stubborn chin and high, Callahan cheekbones.

She was dressed in jeans that practically hung on her tiny frame, while the sweater and jacket she wore couldn't shield the fact that she was far too small for her age.

Was Crowe holding his breath?

Those eyes locked on her as her grandfather set her on the floor and helped her out of the heavy jacket. A bright smile curled her lips and joy lit her face as she looked from Amelia then to Crowe, then back to Crowe again.

Finally, Kimberly Crowe Callahan Roberts gave a muted little cry and threw herself into her mother's arms.

"Mommy, I missed you so much," her baby cried as Amelia caught her, lifted her up, and held her as tightly as she dared.

Burying her face in the heavy silk of Kimmy's hair she tried to force her tears back, hating the thought of sobbing again, here, in front of so many.

"h.e.l.lo, Crowe," Amelia's mother, Thea, greeted softly. "I'm sorry we had to do it this way."

"We had to protect her, Crowe," Ethan stated as Amelia tried to rea.s.sure herself it was going to be okay.

Kimmy lifted her head then, her gaze spearing to her father's as Amelia fought the need to scream at everyone for staring at them as though they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Blinking, Kimmy watched him as Amelia turned to him. He was staring at their daughter as though dazed, disbelieving.

"Crowe, I'd like you to meet Kimberly Crowe Callahan Roberts. You wanted to know where I disappeared to four and a half months after you left?" She stared back at her daughter as Kimmy watched her father somberly. "Kimmy was born three and a half months early."

"But I was strong, wasn't I, Mommy?" Kimmy smiled at her, though Amelia could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"You were, baby." Amelia agreed.

Kimmy looked around the room then. Rory first. She gave him a little smile as he winked at her. Then John. She almost giggled when John blew her a kiss.

Ivan simply stared at her, causing Kimmy to glance back at her mother, once again uncertain before looking back at Crowe.

Amelia's heart broke as Kimmy's eyes filled with tears and she turned back to her mother. "Daddy doesn't like me?"

Heartbroken, her breath hitching with the tears filling her eyes, Kimmy laid her head against Amelia's shoulder, rejection slumping her too-small shoulders as Amelia stared back Crowe and fought more tears.

"What have you done, Amelia?" Crowe whispered then, his voice strangled, his gaze still locked on his daughter. "What have you done?"

Kimmy's head jerked up. The look she gave her father had him flinching. "She made sure that bad man couldn't get me," Kimmy informed him fiercely. "And she made sure that mean old Wayne couldn't hurt you. And you should like me just because I'm your daughter and because I'm a very good girl. I'm a good girl, my grandpa and my grandma and my mommy and my uncles all say I'm a good girl and that if you don't like me then it's because you've got a mean heart."

"Kimmy," Amelia exclaimed, shocked at her daughter's outburst.

"Mommy, I'm a good girl." Kimmy's lips trembled. As she turned back to her mother, her first tear fell. "Tell him. I'm the best daughter."

"Baby, he just met you." She couldn't breathe. Amelia fought the pain raging through her as she stroked her fingers down the back of her daughter's thick hair. "He didn't know about you."

Kimmy's chin jutted out, and the look she gave Crowe should have cut him off at his knees. "He should have known he was a daddy," she accused him tearfully. "'Cause I always pray, and I'm a good girl, and I asked G.o.d all the time to make my daddy find us and make you safe." Kimmy turned back to her, too somber, too serious. "I cry when you're not home, Mommy. That bad man might hurt you, and daddies are supposed to take care of their mommies and their good girls. They're supposed to, Mommy. And I begged G.o.d and I know G.o.d heard my prayers. I know he did."

Crowe stared at his daughter as the words fell from her lips. He was strangling. The band around his heart and his throat was tightening as years of memories surged to the forefront of his brain.

She had prayed.

I bet you have a good girl, too, the daughter of a friend he'd had several years before said when he'd told her she was good girl.

Crowe had told her he didn't have any children.

The little girl stared back at him for long minutes, frowning before saying, "I bet you do."

And he had laughed, but all he could see in that second was Amelia, a child in her arms. A daughter that looked like him, yet was as delicate and fragile as the woman he couldn't forget.

"I couldn't tell you," Amelia whispered as he felt everyone's stare on him, condemning him, accusing him. "I couldn't, Crowe. I couldn't risk our baby..."

Because of the Slasher. Because she hadn't known Wayne was a killer, but she knew he would have done anything to get his hands on her and Crowe's daughter.

The thoughts whipped through his mind, tearing at him as he stared back at the delicate, hurt-filled expressions of both mother and daughter.

"Why don't you like me?" Kimmy asked, causing Amelia's gaze to whip back to her.

"Kimmy, no..."