A Game Of Chance

'I would for this one.' She wheeled away, every line of her body tense. 'I have to try. Margreta calls my cell phone every week at the same time. It's how we know the other is still alive.' She turned back to him and shouted, 'If I don't answer that call, she'll think I'm dead!'

Whoa. Once again, the pieces of the puzzle that was Sunny had been scattered. Margreta? Was that a code name? He searched his memory, which was extensive, but couldn't find anything or anyone named Margreta. Sunny was so damned convincing…

'Why would she think you're dead?' he demanded. 'You might just be in a place that doesn't have a signal— like here. What is she, some kind of nutcase?'

'I make certain I'm always somewhere that has a signal. And, no, she isn't a nutcase!' She threw the words back at him like bullets, her mouth twisted with fury at him, at the situation, at her own helplessness. 'Her problem is the same as mine—we're our father's daughters!'

His pulse leaped. There it was, out in the open, just like that. He hadn't needed seduction; anger had done the job. 'Your father?' he asked carefully.

Tears glittered in her eyes, dripped down her cheeks. She dashed them away with a furious gesture. 'Our father,' she said bitterly. 'We've been running from him all our lives.'

The pieces of the puzzle jumped about a little more, as if a fist had slammed down and jarred them. Easy, he cautioned himself. Don't seem too interested. Find out exactly what she means; she could be referring to his influence. 'What do you mean, running?'

'I mean running. Hiding.' She wiped away more tears. 'Father dear is a terrorist. He'll kill us if he ever finds us.'

Chance gently cleaned her hands with the alcohol wipes from the first aid kit, soothed the red places with burn ointment and the raw spots with antibiotic cream. The gauze she'd wrapped around her hands had protected her palms, but her fingers were a mess. Sunny felt a little bewildered. One minute they had been yelling at each other, the next she had been locked against him, his arms like a vise around her. His heart had been pounding like a runaway horse.

Since then he had been as tender as a mother with a child, rocking her in comfort, cuddling her, drying her tears. The emotional firestorm that had burned through her had left her feeling numb and disoriented; she let him do whatever he wanted without offering a protest, not that she had any reason to protest. It felt good to lean on him.

Satisfied with the care he had given her hands, he left her sitting on the rock while he added some fuel to the fire and turned the rabbit on the spit. Coming back under the overhang, he spread the blanket against the wall, scooped her into his arms, and settled on the blanket with her cradled against him. He propped his back against the wall, arranged her so she was draped half across his lap and lifted her face for a light kiss.

She managed a shaky smile. 'What was that? A kiss to make it better?'

He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, his expression strangely intent as if studying her. 'Something like that.'

'I'm sorry for crying all over you. I usually handle things better than this.'

'Tell me what's going on,' he said quietly. 'What's this about your father?'

She leaned her head on his shoulder, grateful for his strength. 'Hard to believe, isn't it? But he's the leader of a terrorist group that has done some awful things. His name is Crispin Hauer.' 'I've never heard of him,' Chance lied.

'He operates mostly in Europe, but his network extends to the States. He even has someone planted in the FBI.' She was unable to keep the raw bitterness out of her voice. 'Why do you think I don't have a license for that pistol? I don't know who the plant is, how high he ranks, but I do know he's in a position to learn if the FBI gets any information Hauer wants. I didn't want to be in any database, in case he found out who adopted me and what name I'm using.'

'So he doesn't know who you are?'

She shook her head. She had spent a lifetime keeping all her fear and worry bottled up inside her, and now she couldn't seem to stop it from spewing out. 'My mother took Margreta and left him before I was born. I've never met him. She was five months pregnant with me when she ran.'

'What did she do?'

'She managed to lose herself. America's a big place. She stayed on the move, changing her name, paying with cash she had taken from his safe. When I was born, she intended to have me by herself, in the motel room she'd taken for the night. But I wouldn't come, the labor just kept on and on, and she knew something was wrong. Margreta was hungry and scared, crying. So she called 911.'

He wound a strand of golden hair around his finger. 'And was there something wrong?'

'I was breech. She had a C-section. While she was groggy from the drugs, they asked her the father's name and she didn't think to make up a name, just blurted out his. So that's how I got into the system, and how he knows about me.'

'How do you know he knows?'

'I was almost caught, once.' She shivered against him, and he held her closer. 'He sent three men. We were in… Indianapolis, I think. I was five. Mom had bought an old car and we were going somewhere. We were always on the move. We got boxed in, in traffic. She saw them get out of their cars. She had taught us what to do if she ever told us to run. She dragged us out of the car and screamed 'Run!' I did, but Margreta started crying and grabbed Mom. So Mom took off running with Margreta. Two men went after them, and one came after me.' She began shuddering. 'I hid in an alley, under some garbage. I could hear him calling me, his voice soft like he was singing. 'Sonia, Sonia.' Over and over. They knew my name. I waited forever, and finally he went away.'

'How did your mother find you again? Or was she caught?'

'No, she and Margreta got away, too. Mom taught herself street smarts, and she never went anywhere that she wasn't always checking out ways to escape.'

He knew what that was like, Chance thought.

'I stayed in my hiding place. Mom had told us that sometimes, after we thought they were gone, the bad men would still be there watching, waiting to see if we came out. So I thought the bad men might be watching, and I stayed as still as I could. I don't think it was winter, because I wasn't wearing a coat, but when night fell I got cold. I was scared and hungry and didn't know if I'd ever see Mom again. I didn't leave, though, and finally I heard her calling me. She must have noticed where I ran and worked her way back when she thought it was safe. All I knew was that she'd found me. After that was when she decided it wasn't safe to keep us with her anymore, so she began looking for someone to adopt us.'

Chance frowned. He hadn't found a record of any adoption but hers. 'The same family took both of you?'

'Yes, but I was the only one adopted. Margreta wouldn't.' Her voice was soft. 'Margreta… remembers things. She had lost everything except Mom, so I guess she clung more than I did. She had a hard time adapting.' She shrugged. 'Having grown up the way I did, I can adjust to pretty much anything.'

Meaning she had taught herself not to cling. Instead, with her sunny personality, she had found joy and beauty wherever she could. He held her closer, letting her cling to him. 'But… you said he was trying to kill you. It sounds as if he was trying very hard to get you back.'

She shook her head. 'He was trying to get Margreta back. He didn't know me. I was just a means he could have used to force Mom to give Margreta back to him. That's all he would want with me now, to find Margreta. If I was caught, when he found out I don't know where she is, I'd be worthless to him.'

'You don't know?' he asked, startled.

'It's safer that way. I haven't seen her in years.' Unconscious longing for her sister was in her voice. 'She has my cell phone number, and she calls me once a week. So long as I answer the call, she knows everything is all