“There’s already Camille and Jake’s wedding celebration on Sunday. I don’t need any more family events this weekend.”
“Yeah, and I’ll bet you intend to stick around for the party after the wedding. Just like you did after Lana’s. Look, Mike, this is just us. Shelby’s cooking, and Lana and Dylan will bring the baby.”
Domesticity was closing in. Michael’s resolve firmed. “No way!”
“If you’re not there, you’ll be the only one of the Lord kids who’s not.”
“Tell Dylan to take my place, then. The family’s changing. Now Lana’s married-well, things aren’t the same. We don’t need each other as much.”
Funny how his gut kicked at the thought of it, Michael reflected wryly. There’d always been the four of them- Michael and Lana and Shelby, the triplets, with Garrett watching over them like a hawk. Michael hadn’t thought he minded that Lana was married. Who could, when she was so happy? But…
His gut definitely kicked.
“We’re still family,” Garrett said stubbornly. “We need to talk through our plans to find our birth mother.”
“Your plans. I told you. I’m not doing any-”
Michael stopped in astonishment.
His secretary-calm, unflappable and cheerful Jenny-crashed through the door as if the hounds of hell were after her. She shoved the door closed behind her and leaned against it, as wide-eyed and pale as Michael had ever seen her. She looked terrified.
He wasn’t head of security for nothing. Their birth mother could wait.
“Emergency,” he snapped, and dropped the phone into its cradle before Garrett had time to say another word.
ONLY IT WASN’T an emergency, or not one he could see.
Michael crossed swiftly to the window and stared out. As in Jenny’s office, his interior windows were only transparent one way. He could see Jenny’s reception area, which was empty, and the main foyer beyond.
There were a few visitors milling around reception. Nothing noteworthy there. The receptionists looked calm and unconcerned. Two innocuous men in gray suits were walking toward Jenny’s door.
The way she was acting, you’d think the men were carrying machine guns. Which was crazy.
But Michael was trained to act first and ask questions later. What he saw on Jenny’s face was terror. He’d be a fool to ignore terror, and Michael Lord was no fool.
In one fast motion he tugged Jenny away from the door, pulling her easily against his chest. Then he flicked the switch she’d been leaning against. Smoothly, the security panels slid into place, locking the doors and windows and making the smoky glass an impervious, bulletproof screen.
They’d needed these precautions just once since the hospital was built, and he’d hoped he would never have to use them again, but by the look on Jenny’s face, he needed them now.
“Okay, Jenny.”
“Out the back.” She pulled away, tugging out of his arms. She was breathing way too fast for someone as pregnant as she was. “Michael, I need to go. I must. They’re after me. The back door.”
Yeah, he had a back door, a handy little escape route that led into the rear parking lot, but you didn’t bolt from the enemy before you knew who your enemy was. They were secure enough here.
“If they’re searching for you, then maybe they’ll have someone waiting out the back. Jenny, who are they?”
She shook her head, her face bloodless with shock. Michael’s hold on her tightened, his big hands gripping her shoulders. Heck, she was thin. He’d never really noticed that before. In a detached sort of way-the way he saw most people-he’d noticed her pregnancy but not the frailness of her body beneath it.
With her green eyes huge in her pale face, and her mass of dark brown curls shoved from her face in terror…
She was really quite beautiful, he thought suddenly, holding her against him. Funny how he’d never noticed that until now.
Her terror wasn’t subsiding, though. Once again, Michael turned to stare at the gray-suited visitors. They’d entered Jenny’s office and were inspecting her desk. One reached over and opened her drawer, rifling through her belongings.
Michael’s jaw set in anger. They had no right to be searching the place. He was half inclined to throw open the door and demand to know what they thought they were doing, but Jenny’s terror stopped him. He hit the one-way intercom on his desk so he could hear what they were saying, then turned to Jenny.
“The door’s locked,” he said quietly, trying to allay her shuddering fear. “They can’t hear us, they can’t see us and they can’t get in. There’s no way someone can get in here short of using dynamite.”
“They’ll wait. Gloria must have put them onto me. Now they know. I have to leave-now!”
What on earth was going on? Who the heck was Gloria?
Michael didn’t have a clue. He could only wait until she was calm enough to tell him. He put his arms around her shoulders and drew her against him, restraining her urge to dash for the back door. She was so darned small, five four or so compared with his six foot. He’d hardly noticed her in the past few months, apart from being grateful he’d finally found someone efficient to run his office. How could he not have noticed how pregnant-and how lovely- she was?
There was a thumping on his door as the men turned their attention from Jenny’s desk to his inner sanctum. From outside the room, the walls looked like mirrored glass. They’d see nothing and they’d hear nothing.
“Is anyone in there? Mr. Lord, could you come out please? We need to speak to you.” The voice of the older of the men seemed accustomed to command. The two of them looked annoyed, but nothing more. This wasn’t a pair of menacing thugs. There wasn’t a gun in sight.
More knocking, exasperated this time. They were bureaucrats, Michael thought. So what on earth was Jenny scared of?
And then there was a female voice, and Michael sighed with relief as he saw Ellie enter Jenny’s office. Ellie Maitland was the hospital administrator and the only person who’d know the security screens and bolts had come down in his office. A small red light would have flashed on her desk as the screens dropped. She’d figure that for some unknown reason Michael was in trouble or else there’d been a mistake, but Ellie wasn’t the sort to assume he’d made a mistake without checking.
She should have telephoned, Michael thought grimly, instead of coming, but the gray-suited visitors didn’t look physically threatening. Ellie certainly didn’t think they did.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
She cast a flickering glance at Jenny’s desk, and Michael knew she’d noticed the opened drawer and the shifted jumble of papers on the desktop. She’d be puzzled, trying to figure out what was going on, but nothing of that was sounding in her voice.
“We’re here to see Mrs. Morrow,” the older suit said.
“Mrs…” There was a trace of uncertainty in Ellie’s voice, as if she was trying to place the name-which she wouldn’t be. Ellie knew the names of every one of her staff members and every detail of their lives, right down to what they’d had for breakfast that morning. Her uncertainty was assumed, buying time. Finally her voice cleared. “Oh, you mean Mr. Lord’s secretary, Jenny.”
“That’s right.” The voice was in no mood for hesitation. “Where is she?”
Silence. Michael couldn’t suppress a grin as Ellie gazed around the outer office with helpful and entirely assumed stupidity.
“She doesn’t seem to be here.”
“Can you open the inner office, please?”
“It’s the office of our security chief,” she apologized. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I don’t have authorization. Isn’t Mr. Lord inside?”
“He’s not answering, and we need to check. We’re from the Department of Immigration.” There was a pause as two ID cards were produced. In Michael’s arms, Jenny quivered once and was still. “Open, please.”
“I still can’t do that,” Ellie said apologetically. “Unless you people have a warrant.”
“We don’t have a warrant.”
“Has Mr. Lord done something illegal?”
“No. It’s Mrs. Morrow we’re interested in.”
