Baby Trouble. Beth Cornelison

or Laura. Both of them were stretched to the breaking point by the lack of progress and the feeling of being trapped in their own home.

      Finally, as they picked at the sandwiches a red-eyed Marta put in front of them, Laura’s laptop beeped to indicate an incoming message. She leaped from her seat to check it.

      “It’s for MysteryMom,” she said tersely as she opened the message. Instinct had warned her not to reveal all her sources to the FBI team that had invaded their home. She’d kept her MysteryMom identity and email account to herself since the FBI was monitoring all her phones and other email accounts. Nick moved to her side quickly. The message, short and to the point, popped up. Kloffman is borrowing a home from friends at the following address. A posh street in the Washington, D.C. suburb, Old Town Alexandria, was named. The message was not signed. Not that he cared who had sent it, other than to want to thank the person someday … after Adam was safe.

      Laura murmured under her breath, “We’ll have to sneak out past the FBI and the police.”

      He nodded slightly. “I’ll engage them in conversation while you make arrangements for Ellie.”

      He went downstairs and didn’t engage in conversation as much as he threw a tantrum, demanding that the law enforcement agencies do something. Personally, he understood that they had no leads to go on and their hands were tied until the kidnapper made the next move. But he kept that opinion to himself as he ranted and generally forced everyone’s attention onto him while Laura had a quiet word with Marta about watching Ellie for the night and milk in the freezer.

      Laura slipped into the living room and made eye contact with him. He allowed her to talk him down off his fake ledge and the police were more than happy to let the two of them retire upstairs to the privacy of their suite.

      “Are we good to go?” he asked Laura when the door shut behind her.

      “Yes.”

      He eyed the black turtleneck and slacks she’d laid out on the bed. “I gather you’re planning to break into the guy’s house?” he asked doubtfully.

      “Do you have a better idea?” she demanded.

      “Actually, yes.” He headed for her closet and pulled out an elegant linen sheath dress, silk stockings, fashionable stilettos, and an expensive pearl necklace. “Put these on. And do up your makeup and hair to the hilt.”

      “What do you have in mind?”

      “Let’s knock on his front door. Or more precisely, you knock on the front door. He won’t think twice about opening the door for a woman who looks like you. Once he’s got the door open, I’ll join you. If we have to force our way in after that, so be it. But I bet he doesn’t put up a fight. He’s a businessman, not a thug.”

      “You’re probably right. I’m not thinking all that clearly right now.” She glanced at him gratefully, and the spark of warmth in her eyes shot through him like a lightning bolt. Even in the midst of this crisis, she attracted him like no other woman.

      She was authorized to be off her A-game. It was no surprise she’d fall back on her old CIA habits in a situation like this. But he knew life as a CEO. And if a beautiful, elegant woman showed up at his front door, he’d have let her in.

      Laura dressed quickly and came back into the sitting room looking like a million bucks. Her flesh impact hit him like a physical blow. “You’re a hell of a woman,” he murmured.

      “I’m a freaked-out mommy.”

      “Stay strong, sweetheart. For Adam.”

      She nodded and stepped close, leaning against him. They stood together quietly for a moment.

      “Ready?” he murmured.

      “Let’s do it.”

      It was ridiculously easy to sneak out of their house. Laura knew every detail of the security system and made easy work of slipping past it. They pushed his BMW out of the garage in neutral and let it roll down the slight hill behind the house until it was out of sight of the mansion. Only then did Nick start the engine and guide the vehicle toward the back gate.

      The trip to the Virginia suburbs of D.C. went quickly. Laura was grim and silent beside him. She definitely had her Super Mommy game face on.

      The GPS efficiently led them to an elegantly restored row house in the heart of Old Town. Nick pulled into a driveway a few houses down and turned off the engine. He murmured, “You go first and I’ll lurk in the bushes until Kloffman has opened the door.”

      Laura nodded coldly. Super Mommy was in full grizzly-bear mode. Satisfaction coursed through him. AbaCo’s senior leadership had coming whatever Laura could dish out and then some.

      He followed her to the front porch and crouched beside the lush rhododendrons flanking the front steps. She rang the bell and stepped back so she’d be in plain sight through the door’s peephole.

      The door opened.

      Laura pitched her voice in a sexy contralto. “Mr. Kloffman? I work for the United States government. Do you have a few minutes to speak with me?”

      “Of course. Please come in.”

      Bingo. Show time.

       Chapter 8

      Laura was surprised at how easily it all came back to her—the technical skill, intense focus, the cold calm. Her mindset also included absolute willingness to do whatever violence was necessary to find and rescue her son.

      As she passed through the front door, she placed her shoe strategically in front of the wood panel. Nick materialized behind her and had slipped inside before Kloffman was even aware of the man behind her.

      “Who in the hell are you?” Kloffman growled as he caught sight of Nick.

      “My name’s Nikolas Spiros, Herr Kloffman.”

      The German spluttered, looking back and forth between the two of them. “You! I thought I recognized you. You’re that Delaney woman.”

      “That’s correct,” Laura answered grimly. “We need to chat, sir.”

      “How dare you? How did you find me? I want my lawyer.”

      “This isn’t that kind of chat, Werner,” Nick said in an entirely too pleasant tone of voice. “Shall we step into the living room?”

      The German must have sensed the threat underlying Nick’s words and moved without comment into an antique-filled parlor. A thrill coursed through her at the danger in Nick’s voice. She remembered sharply why she’d been attracted to him in the first place. It had been this sense of sexy risk that had clung to him.

      Kloffman sank down in a wingback chair and stared defiantly at the two of them.

      “So here’s the deal, Werner,” Laura said reasonably. “We’re going to ask you a series of questions. If you give us the right answers, we’ll leave and not bother you again. If you give us the wrong answers, you are going to have a very long night. We’d like to keep this civilized, but we are under no obligation to do so. Understood?”

      Kloffman swore under his breath in German. “I know who you are. I’ll see you both in jail for this.”

      Nick shrugged. “Panicked parents politely question the man most likely to have kidnapped their son, and you think any jury in the world is going to do more than slap our wrists?”

      “I didn’t kidnap your son!”

      “Of course you didn’t,” she replied smoothly. “The same way you didn’t kidnap Nick. Your flunkies did it for you. Plausible deniability is important for a man in your position, is it not?”

      He shrugged, obviously aware that answering the