A Warrior's Mission. Rita Herron

the media has gotten wind of the story, it will be major news.”

      Really major news, since the former governor was a millionaire and his son Joshua was firmly entrenched in the upcoming election as a prime candidate. Even more major news as Night mentally counted back the months and realized the baby might very well be his own son.

      A son Holly Langworthy had not bothered to tell him existed.

      NIGHT STRUGGLED with the idea that he might have a son as he drove at record-breaking speed away from the Royal Flush, located between Fairplay and Garo, toward the Langworthy mansion in Denver. All his life he had been a loner. His father had died when Night was little, leaving his white mother to raise him in a world that hadn’t wanted her Cheyenne half-breed son. She’d eventually taken him to live on one of the reservations, hoping the people there would be more welcoming, but he had felt just as alone in the midst of his native American Indian cousins as he had in his mother’s world.

      He had never expected to have a family. Had blamed his father for leaving him, had thought that loving meant only pain. Especially when love involved the mixture of cultures.

      But that one night with Holly had lingered in his mind. He had wanted to see her again, to call her, to touch her, yet he’d known a relationship between them would never work. Had she given birth to his son? A son who might need him?

      A son who had crossed the lines between the Cheyenne and the white man, just as he had?

      The snowcapped peaks of the Colorado mountains became a hazy blur as the facts of the case imprinted themselves in his brain. According to Colleen, Holly was distraught and had been avoiding the press since the kidnapping. The Langworthys had suggested that Governor Todd Houghton and his buddy Senator Franklin Gettys had instigated the kidnapping to distract Joshua Langworthy from his campaign. In turn, Governor Houghton suggested the Langworthys had staged the kidnapping to garner sympathy for Joshua in the election. Either scenario sounded feasible.

      Both disgusted Night.

      The odd details of the crime had the police perplexed. How had a kidnapper breached the walls of the Langworthy mansion? Langworthy had topnotch security. Night should know—he’d worked security detail at the estate a year ago. Was there someone on the inside who’d been a conspirator?

      The other details were odd, too. Traces of Merino sheep wool, eggshells and dirt from the southern part of Colorado had been found at the scene, in baby Langworthy’s nursery. Colleen had sent Fiona to check out Governor Houghton and Senator Gettys’s ex-wife, Helen Gettys. Michael was assigned to check out the Merino sheep ranch partially owned by Gettys. Shawn was staying on with Colleen.

      She had assigned Night to watch Holly.

      He had a helluva lot more than watching in mind. Holly owed him some answers. And if she’d had anything to do with staging her own baby’s disappearance, if that child was Night’s…

      The fury and anguish he felt at the realization that he might have a son he had known nothing about obliterated his ill-spent desire for Holly. Protective instincts unlike anything he’d ever felt before rose to the surface for the infant. The thought of any child, much less his own offspring, missing, being in danger, being used as a pawn in some kind of political game sickened him. The other possibilities that lurked behind the obvious political ones were even more maddening.

      But what if the baby wasn’t his? Would he be able to tell by looking into Holly’s eyes?

      He barely noticed the Denver lights as he maneuvered through traffic toward the Capitol Hill area, his mind on autopilot as he made his way to the Langworthy estate. He gave his name at the security gate to the fenced-in Victorian mansion, wondering if Langworthy had blackballed his name from the acceptance list, but as Colleen had promised, he got through with no problem. Apparently, the ex-governor wanted ICU’s help badly enough to tolerate him. Emotions breathed like a fireball in his belly as he drove down the long drive to the house.

      His hand trembled as he lifted the photograph Colleen had given him of Holly’s son. The Langworthys had released the picture to the public in an attempt to find out who had taken the three-month-old infant from their home in the middle of the night.

      In the picture, the chubby little boy was wrapped in a blue blanket, lying in his crib, a cuddly brown teddy bear snuggled beside him. Night studied the infant’s features. The baby had black hair but he couldn’t quite tell the color of his eyes.

      Did he have his brown eyes or Holly’s laughing green eyes?

      Thinking of Holly sent an ache through his chest. Photographs of her and the man she’d been dating had been plastered all over the news the past few months. Carlton Sanders—a man who worked for Joshua Langworthy, a cultured man Samuel would approve of, a man suited to Holly’s status. Could Carlton Sanders be the father of Holly’s baby? Or was Night the father?

      He touched the name bead necklace circling his neck, the one symbol of his heritage he carried with him at all times. Pride filled him at the memory of his mother’s gift. If Holly and he had a child, he wanted to pass that name on to his son, give him beads to symbolize the Walker name.

      A dozen lights twinkled around the stately Victorian mansion as he dragged his gaze to the doorway then upward to the window of Holly’s room. Memories bombarded him. The first night he’d come to work security at the mansion. His admiration for Samuel Langworthy and all that the Centennial family had done for Colorado. His instant attraction to Langworthy’s beautiful daughter, Holly.

      An attraction he’d known could go nowhere.

      She was rich and spoiled, and he’d pegged her flirtations as those of a rebellious princess wanting to defy daddy by taking a walk on the wild side with the hired help—a half breed at that. But her feminine wiles had been nearly irresistible. She had reminded him of the wild horses he had tamed in the past, eliciting forbidden fantasies of taming her as well. Still, he had resisted at first, walked away from her a dozen times. But in a weak moment, he had told her about the legend of Lillian’s Leap. In the romantic story, his ancestors, North and Lily, escaped from danger by jumping off a cliff then landing on a hidden ledge and diving into the river below. Holly’s passion and youthful romanticisms had gotten to him, had been a balm to his jaded soul.

      Then she had touched him. Had lifted a slender hand to trail down the side of his face, then lower to his chest, and lower still. And finally, she’d looked into his eyes, begging him to take her. Even then he’d restrained himself, but finally her lips had brushed his, torturing him, hungry and searching. He had lost control and made love to her.

      The passion had been hotter than any he’d ever experienced. Holly’s body was a sultry haven in the midst of a world of corruption, her innocence so sweet it was erotic, primal. He’d wanted to taste it forever.

      Yet, he’d had to leave. Especially when Holly’s father had discovered them together. That humiliating encounter was etched into his brain with painful clarity. Night was the hired help, a half breed who was fit to protect the former governor’s precious daughter, but not to touch her.

      Samuel had thrown him out, his threats to ruin Night if he dirtied the doors of the estate again a staunch reminder of the man’s power and position, and Night’s lack thereof. Night had dealt with people like that before. The incident with Charity Carmichael for one. Her accusations had dogged him and always would.

      This time, Night had known Langworthy was right—he and Holly were not meant to be together. She was lightness to his dark, a society heiress who belonged to the prominent Centennial family, while he was an ex-bounty hunter who belonged to himself and his job. So he had left. And, barring the dreams that haunted his nights, dreams of lying with her again, slick hot skin against her writhing form, he had never looked back.

      Until now.

      A wry chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, filled with pain, as he opened the car door and inhaled the scent of freshly manicured lawn and money. Of course, even now, he’d returned to the Langworthy mansion as a special agent to investigate a crime, not as Holly’s lover.

      Or