The Way We Wed. Pat Warren

speak of those past terrible years.

      Through most of his teen years and later, Jeff had met or heard about several agents—men and women—who’d been badly hurt in the line of duty, some physically, some emotionally. A few had even died. But with the arrogance of youth, he’d felt certain none of those things would happen to him. He’d quickly shot up to a height of six feet, lean and muscled from training sessions and working out regularly. He’d felt confident, invincible, ready to take on the world.

      Until the day he’d been kidnapped, buried alive and left to die.

      Slowing his steps, Jeff came to a stop, breathing deeply. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, letting his body cool. That episode had changed him forever.

      Finally he straightened, squinting into the sun, swiping the dampness from his face. It was after he’d been rescued that he’d learned from Alicia, the woman Easton eventually married, how the kidnapping had affected his adoptive father. East had left the comfort and safety of Condor Resort and spearheaded the operation that had saved Jeff’s life. That was the second time Easton had rescued Jeff. His gratitude and love for the man knew no bounds.

      A curious gull executed a graceful landing close to where Jeff stood, cocking his head at the human intruder before taking off overhead. Jeff watched the bird circling for a minute, envying his freedom of movement, then started on his run back to the only real home he’d ever known. He ran more slowly this time, appreciating the pull and strain of his muscles. He’d recently returned from Australia where he’d received more field training for his medevac specialty before the summer session began. He’d doubled up on his courses and attended med school year-round, and he’d just finished his first year of residency with two more to go before becoming a full-time doctor and SPEAR agent.

      Jeff frowned as his thoughts drifted to another matter, one equally if not more important to him: Tish Buckner. Skirting a moss-covered rock, he wondered why the course of love never ran smoothly. Certainly East and Alicia—or Ally as she liked to be called—had had some difficult times and it was no different with almost everyone he knew. Falling in love was only the beginning, Jeff decided. It was the happily-ever-after part that was a problem.

      He’d met Tish last year at Red Rock Ranch in northern Arizona where he’d gone to recuperate after his ordeal, and he’d fallen for her fast and hard. She was a SPEAR agent who’d come to take a refresher course on her vacation because she wasn’t the type for lazing about. But their road to happiness had been filled with stumbling blocks right from the start and, sadly, they’d gone their separate ways. Running across her in Australia a few weeks ago had been a lucky break, but they’d had too little private time. He’d pretty well convinced her they should try again when the call had come in that Tish was needed along with several other SPEAR agents. A traitor known as Simon, who’d been orchestrating all sorts of treasonous acts against the country and framing Jonah, the head of SPEAR, had been traced to New York. Tish had quickly boarded a helicopter to follow him. But she’d promised to meet with Jeff to talk more as soon as her assignment ended.

      This time he’d make her see that they belonged together, Jeff vowed, as his steps brought him back to the foot of the majestic resort where he paused. As always, this view from below captured his imagination. The first time East had walked with him along the beach and they’d paused at the steps leading up, forty-four to be exact, Jeff had said the place looked like pictures of castles he’d seen in books. He never had figured out how they’d managed to put up such a magnificent building that was five stories from the beach side, yet appeared to be only four from the front entrance. As boy and man, the arrangement had intrigued him.

      It was part of the Monarch Hotel chain owned and operated as one of SPEAR’s legitimate business enterprises. The lobby floor of Condor offered moneyed guests a luxurious retreat with a magnificent view and a cosmopolitan atmosphere with a renowned chef holding court in both restaurants. Floors two, three and four offered suites of varying sizes, all beautifully appointed. But the penthouse floor was where East and Alicia had their quarters plus there were private rooms reserved for agents who might need a little R and R, some downtime. East saw to it that they got what they needed and went back to the field refreshed. Jeff’s room was also located on the fourth floor.

      At the sound of a barking sea lion, Jeff turned to watch the slick seal sun himself on a spit of land that zigzagged into the sea. Some Californians didn’t care for this rocky, often treacherous section of beach, but Jeff loved it. There was majesty here and power and, ultimately, peace. He stood for a minute more gazing at the relentless waves pounding at the shore, then began the steep climb.

      He was nearly to the landing that led to the stone stairs of the terrace dining room where waiters were setting the tables for the evening meal when he spotted his dad standing by the waist-high railing. As always, Jeff was aware that there was a certain presence about East that people recognized immediately. Perhaps it was his height, a couple of inches taller than Jeff’s six feet, or his powerful build that suggested he might be a professional athlete. There was a hint of mystery about East that attracted women and intrigued men. He was definitely a formidable man, but Jeff had experienced the kindness and compassion beneath the tough exterior of those chiseled features.

      Now, as Jeff hurried up the last few steps, he couldn’t help wondering what had put that very serious look on his father’s face. From the beginning, they’d shared a remarkable intuition about one another that was usually right.

      Jeff felt a worried frown form as he stepped onto the terrace. “What’s wrong?” he asked East.

      “Let’s go to my quarters and I’ll tell you.” East made his way through the tables, nodding to the maître’d who was arranging dinner menus.

      Jeff followed him across the rustic lobby past the guest elevators and stopped in front of the one at the far end, their private car to the fourth floor. As East inserted his special key to gain access, Jeff felt a shiver skitter down his spine which had nothing to do with the air-conditioning cooling his sweaty body. Dad had taught him patience as a teenager—which went against his nature—and also that they were never to discuss SPEAR business in front of outsiders. Stepping into the elevator and turning to face the doors that silently slid shut, his thoughts ran through several possibilities, but he couldn’t seem to settle on any one thing. The most probable choice was that SPEAR needed him at some other location where his medevac training, incomplete though it was, would be useful.

      Stepping out on the penthouse floor, East again used his key to enter his quarters and walked directly to the kitchen where he handed Jeff a clean towel before pouring him a tall glass of orange juice.

      Jeff knew his dad was not one to be rushed, that he would say what needed to be said in his own way. So he drank the juice and wiped his face, then draped the towel around his neck as his anxiety built. East was openly studying him, as if gauging how best to deliver bad news. Finally Jeff could stand it no longer. “What is it?”

      “There’s been an accident. In New York.” The ever present shadows in East’s brown eyes seemed to darken to near black. “Several agents were checking out a warehouse where Simon was reportedly stockpiling weapons. A bomb went off.”

      Jeff felt the blood drain from his face as his hands tightened on the glass he was holding. “Tish?” He managed to get her name out, his voice strained. Oh, God! Not now, please.

      “She’s in the hospital, unconscious.” East reached over, placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed hard.

      “The prognosis?” Jeff asked as a terrible weight took up residence in his chest.

      East shook his head. “No one knows.”

      Jeff was not a man who could wait for answers. He had to take action, to find out for himself. He set down the glass and picked up the phone on the kitchen counter. “What hospital?”

      East handed him a notepad where he’d jotted down the phone number, knowing his son would want to call. “Metropolitan General in Manhattan.”

      It took Jeff some time to get through to the right floor, the right nurse’s station. Tish was in surgery, he