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After darkness fell, Gabe waited for the FBI team in his car at the designated site, an ordinary ranch house with yellow siding and two big oak trees in the yard. He’d alerted the other federal agency to the situation when the D.C. Threat Assessment Team isolated the town’s location from the torn-off piece of paper. It turned out to be the edge of a postcard from Northport, about two hours from Catasaga. Who knew if Clark Mason had come here, but there were four addresses for Masons and three didn’t pan out. This one belonged to an elderly couple, the sheriff had told the closest FBI field office. There was no evidence a younger person lived with them.

In the side mirror, he watched someone approach his car. Gabe slid his hand to the gun on the seat. A small flashlight went on and a badge flashed. FBI. Holding it was an agent dressed in a suit and white blouse. “Agent Carol Smith. Agent Marino?”

“Yeah, thanks for meeting me here.”

Three others came up behind her. Gabe exited the car. He’d dressed like them, in a dark suit, tie and dress shoes. Introductions were made.

“We’ll go in like I explained on the phone. Agent Smith, you’ll be at the front door with me.” He focused on the others. “You two will keep post in the back. It’s dark enough now, so they won’t see us coming. Remember, we have no idea if Mason’s armed.”

They discussed strategy for a few more minutes and then crept down the side of the bushes and over to the porch. At the door, Gabe knocked. “Federal agents, open up.”

Almost immediately, a light went on and the door eased back, surprising Gabe. An older woman with gray hair and wizened features stood before them. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“Mrs. Mason?”

“Yes, I’m Alice Mason.”

A small man with a bald head appeared behind her. “What is it, Alice?”

“Federal agents.”

“Did we do something wrong?” the man wanted to know. Right away, Gabe recognized they were totally unaware of Mason’s nefarious actions.

“No. Is your son here?”

The man scowled. “Our son is dead.” He made the sign of the cross.

“Grandson?”

They exchanged looks. Again, the man spoke. “Why do you want to know?”

“Could you step aside, please?”

Agent Smith produced the warrant to search the house. “We have approval to do this, Mr. and Mrs. Mason.”

The poor grandparents’ expressions were befuddled, kindling an anger in Gabe. Mason had no right to involve them.

Just as they stepped inside, Gabe saw someone dart from a hallway to the back of the house. Drawing his Glock, he raced down a narrow hall to the kitchen in time to see Mason yank open the back door.

“Federal agents!” Gabe yelled. “Stop.”

Mason turned and his face contorted. Then he lifted a gun and fired!

In Connor’s old room, with only a corner light on, Nick changed into the fleece shorts and T-shirt he wore to bed when he stayed overnight at home, then peeked in on a sleeping Isabelle. He’d insisted their doors remain open during the night. Alarm skittered up his spine when his phone buzzed back in his room, telling him something was wrong. He hurried to pick it up. “Marino.”

“Agent Marino, this is Agent Carol Smith from the FBI in the Northport area.”

“Why isn’t Gabe calling me?” he asked without the courtesy of a greeting.

“Your brother’s been shot, but not critically. The bullet went right though the flesh of his left shoulder and out the other side. Nothing vital was injured.”

Despite her reassurance, Nick’s pulse sped up. “Where is he?”

“In the hospital. They’re treating the wound—no surgery necessary—but they gave him painkillers. He’s out of it.”

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he curled his fist to regain some control. His heart was pounding. “What happened? You went after Mason tonight, didn’t you?”

“We found him, caught him. But he shot your brother before two of our agents wounded him.”

A deep breath this time. “Were they injured?”

“No. Only your brother.”

Nick’s gaze lifted. Isabelle stood in the bathroom entrance to his space. He must have awakened her. “Hold on a second.” To Isabelle, he said, “They caught Mason.”

“Something’s wrong, though?”

“Gabe got shot.”

Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, no.”

“He’s okay.” Back on the phone, he asked, “When will I be able to talk to him?”

“I’m sure he’ll contact you as soon as he’s clearheaded. As I said, he’s had medication, so he might not be coherent for a while.”

Isabelle approached the bed and sat on the edge, her hands folded on her lap.

“Anything else I need to know?” he asked.

“Nope. Just that we arrested the perpetrator and Agent Marino does not have life-threatening injuries.”

“Glad to hear that. Keep me informed. And make sure Gabe calls me as soon as he can.”

“I will.”

He had enough presence of mind to remember the traditional pissing contest between the FBI and the Secret Service. “Agent, text me your name and the names of all the agents involved from your field office. I’m sure the president will want to thank you personally.”

“I appreciate that.”

When he clicked off, he was still shaken by the news of Gabe being shot. So he concentrated on Isabelle. Her head was down, her body trembled. She wore a simple green cotton nightgown, and her hair had fallen into her face.

Dropping to his knee, he took her hands and tipped up her chin. Tears trickled over flushed cheeks. “It’s okay to cry. That’s a common reaction in this situation. Relief. Fear.”

She continued to cry. It broke his heart.

Feeling none too steady himself, he stood, dropped down next to her and pulled her close. He slid one hand to her back and the other cradled her hair. He kissed her head and got a whiff of flowers. “Shh. It could be over, Isabelle.”

“C-could be?”

“I have to wait for official confirmation that Mason was working alone, which might take a few days, so you’ll have to put up with me a while longer.”

She gripped his shirt. And despite the fact that his brother had been hurt, and that a perpetrator had been shot, Nick wondered how he was going to walk out of this woman’s life.

He struggled to summon the agent’s persona he’d spent years erecting. “We have to call your brother.”

She didn’t let go.

“Isabelle.”

Nothing.

“Okay, scoot back.” He practically dragged her to the headboard, settled in beside her against the pillows and once again encircled her back with his arm. “That better?”

“Yes. Call Jimmy.”

He punched the president’s contact on speed dial. Waited while Manwaring was awakened by the staff. Meanwhile, the soft curves of this woman pressed against his body.

“Yes, Nick, what is it?” Manwaring’s voice was sleep slurred.

“We got Clark Mason. He’s alive and in FBI custody.”

A heavy sigh. “Fill me in.”

Nick reiterated what the agent had told him. “And one more thing. Gabe was wounded, but he’ll recover fine.”

“Fuck. How bad?”

“Shoulder wound, bullet went right through. He’s resting now in the hospital.”

“Give me his cell number.”

“The agent who phoned me said he’s been medicated and would contact me when he could. I haven’t even spoken to him.”

“Alert me when he can have calls, right away.” A pause. “I want Mason brought to Washington.”

“Should I put that in motion?”

“The FBI will coordinate it.”

“Anything else?” Nick asked.

“Does Isabelle know?”

“Yeah. She’s right here.” In my arms.

“Is she crying?”

“A bit.”

“Put her on.”

He squeezed her neck. “Your brother wants to talk to you.”

By now, Isabelle had gotten herself together some. She sat up straight, wiped her cheeks, then took the cell. “Jimmy?”

Jim Manwaring heard the fear and the exhaustion in his sister’s voice. He hated it. Though he was pissed as hell at the situation, he stayed cool. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes. I broke down. Sorry.”

He pictured a little girl crying when she fell off her bike, when she graduated from high school, when Michael died. He took over then, too. “Belle, you’ve been through a horrible time. It’s okay. I feel like crying myself.”

“Oh, sure. Mr. Tough Guy.”

“Not where you’re concerned. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

“And I’m so sorry I’m putting you through this.”

“We don’t know it’s because of you.”

“I do. Listen, I want to see you soon. I’ll figure out how.”

“I’d love to spend time with my big brother.”

“It’s been too long. For now, put Nick back on.”

She gave him the phone.

“What will you do?” he asked Nick.

“Nothing much different until your team talks to Mason. We don’t know if he was working alone.”

“Right. So stay close to my sister. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, sir.”

Jim thought about all he owed this man. “And Nick? I won’t forget what your family has done for mine.”

“No thanks necessary. It’s my job.”

“Above and beyond, I’d say.”

When he disconnected, the former prosecutor took over. He was going to break this man, get these people, if it was his last act on earth. With that in mind, he headed to the Oval Office.

When Nick clicked off, he drew Isabelle to him again. She was right where she wanted to be. Something about the capture of one of the perpetrators, about his brother being shot gave her a renewed sense of calm.

“Even if he wasn’t working alone,” Nick said from beside her, “we’ll get the bastards working with him, I promise.”

She luxuriated in the hardness of his chest and the soft cotton against her cheek. “I trust you, Nick.”

He kissed the top of her head. The intimacy of their situation was intense. “Are you going to be able to sleep after this?”

A long, long pause. “If I can stay here.” She didn’t care that she was pushing their relationship. No matter what, she wasn’t leaving him.

“I might get calls. They’ll disturb you.”

“I don’t care.” She eased back some. “Oh, wait, do you have to tell your parents?”

“It’s early morning. No sense waking them up. They’ll be upset about Gabe.”

“Your brother’s a hero. Maybe things will turn around for him in the Secret Service now.”

“I hope so.” Reaching down, he pulled the covers up over her. “Let’s slide down some so you can doze.”

As natural as summer rain, she cozied into him again. Just before she fell asleep, she said, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Now close your eyes.”

She meant ever, she didn’t want him to go ever. But she wouldn’t spook him by telling him more, so she let her eyes close, secure now because she was with Nick at least for a while.

Nick awoke to a tickle on his face. He grabbed at whatever it was. His senses dulled from sleep, he nonetheless could feel the incredible silkiness of what he held. His eyes flew open.

Isabelle leaned over him, and his mind searched for where they were, why she was with him like this. She kissed his forehead and more strands of hair brushed his cheek.

“Isabelle,” he said, fully alert now, unable to believe he hadn’t bolted up immediately as he had the morning Connor was on the deck. “What are you doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” Her voice was a subtle purr, making his body react.

Gently he grasped her shoulders. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Right now, I don’t care.” She traced an eyebrow with a gentle fingertip. “You could be gone in days. I’d always regret missing out on this.” She continued outlining the other brow, the bridge of his nose, then his mouth. Angling her head, she pressed her lips to his and gave a slight moan that made him hard—harder—in seconds. Angling her body, she lowered unfettered breasts to his chest and deepened the kiss, opened his mouth with her tongue.

His body responded lightning quick. Somewhere in his mind, he knew this was a reaction to the earlier events, for both him and her. And he knew he had to stop it. But he didn’t want to, so he allowed his mind to blank. Sliding both arms around her, cradling her to him, he gave her what she wanted. His fingers tunneled through the thick mass of her hair. The luscious contact went on and on…

The next thing he knew, he had her on her back, his body aligned with hers. He took over the kiss, and tenderness receded. Need overcame. His tongue plunged into her mouth, demanded surrender, but she threw herself even more into the embrace, arching her body into him, meeting him at every touch, taste, sensation.

Of its own volition, his hand crept to her breast. She was firm and full, and he kneaded her mindlessly. Nothing in his life had felt more feminine. More desired.

Alive for the first time in five years, Isabelle’s body responded to his ministrations. She’d wanted this man for a long time, and now, here he was, with her in bed. She curled a hand around his neck. His body was hard, all male, and she treasured the feel and smell of him. “More,” she murmured.

He drew back. She was afraid he’d stop, but instead, he sat back on his legs and tugged on the hem of her gown. She gave a small prayer of thankfulness that she didn’t have to fight him on this. He slid the material up, stopping to kiss one hip, then another. His tongue bathed her abdomen. When the garment moved to reveal her breasts, he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked. She ricocheted off the bed. He tended to the other breast. Finally, he rid her of the gown and tossed it to the floor. “You are so lovely. I’ll never forget this.”

“Shh. Not now.” She yanked at his shirt, pushed down his shorts until he kicked them off. Fully naked, they melded into each other as if one body was seeking food and drink from the other.

Then he touched her everywhere. When his mouth started to go lower, she gripped his shoulders hard. “No. I want you inside me.”

Somewhere in his mind, this sexually demanding lover was not at all what he would have expected from her, but he accepted it. Embraced it. Relished it. Drawing her up and over him so she straddled his lap, he secured her there. He wanted to see her face. Finally, he brought her down on his hard penis. She was wet and ready, still she winced. “Isabelle…”

“It’s been a long time. Please don’t stop.”

He couldn’t if he wanted to. “I won’t.”

More gently, he lifted her up-and-down until he saw pleasure etch out on every lovely feature. He felt a sense of satisfaction for giving this to her. His heartbeat escalated as she took over, increased the pressure and pace. One thrust, two, and she went off, calling his name, moaning with the ecstasy he brought her.

When she was done, he moved more quickly, pushed harder, and she spiraled again. This time, she whimpered. His body tensed as she kept gliding up-and-down, up-and-down, then heat exploded through him, his mind blanked, and he totally surrendered.

She knew he wasn’t asleep. His heartbeat hadn’t slowed, though they’d been lying together for a while. She turned her face into his chest. “I made you compromise your principles.”

His hand tightened on her arm. “You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted this. I have for a long time, too.”

Kissing his chest, she heaved a sigh of relief. “I did, too,” she repeated.

“I know. That made it all the harder.”

She slid her hand lower. “Speaking of…”

He flipped her over onto her back. “Where did this vamp side of you come from?”

Wondering the same thing, Isabelle giggled. “I don’t know. She’s completely new to me.”

“Is she?”

She understood the underlying meaning of the question. Michael had been a tender lover, and she’d always been satisfied. But this was different. As it should be. “Yes, Nick, she is.”

He lay back down beside her. “I’m not sure if I can get out of bed.”

“I wish we could stay here for a week.”

“Only a week?” He arched a brow. Isabelle fell head over heels for this cocky-lover side of him. He kissed her passionately.

“Mmm.”

Several minutes later, after luxuriating in each other, he brushed the hair out of her eyes. “We didn’t use protection.”

“Oh, God. We didn’t. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Neither of us were. Where are you in your cycle?”

“I just finished it.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Is it?”

Now he leaned over her again. Rubbed the skin of her upper arms, making her tingle. And stared into her eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to brood or play the guilt card. I did this…we did this…because we wanted to, but it was and will stay this one time.”

“Because of your job.”

“Yes, of course. Otherwise I’d never let you go.”

“I like the sound of that better.”

“I—”

“Nick.” A voice called to him from somewhere below. “Nicky?”

“I have to go.”

“All right. For now.”

Giving her one last, hard kiss, Nick bolted out of bed, threw on his clothes and opened the door. His mother stood on the landing below. He glanced at the sky through the window. Dawn was breaking. “What is it, Mama?”

“Your father. He’s upset. Could you come down and talk to him?”

He bounded down each step to where she waited at the very bottom. Her face was pale. He usually thought of her as tough as nails, but she seemed fragile in the gray light of dawn. They found his father in the kitchen. His back to them, he braced his hands on the counter and stared out the kitchen window.

“Pa?”

He turned. His expression was ravaged. And the shoulders Nick had cried on, relied on more than once were hunched like an old man’s.

“Pa, what’s wrong?”

“Something happened to one of you. I know it in my gut.”

Nick crossed the room and turned him around. Hands on his pa’s upper arms, Nick said, “You’re right, Pa. Gabe’s been shot. The bullet didn’t even lodge, so he’s not critical. I found out only a few hours ago.”

“You should have woken us up.”

“I thought you’d need as much sleep as you could get to deal with it.” He studied his father’s eyes. “Does this reaction happen often?”

“Often enough,” his mother said from behind him. Her voice trembled, too. “You four put yourselves in dangerous situations. Your father senses them.”

Nick didn’t know what to do with that information. “Let’s get coffee and I’ll explain what went down.”

The three sat at the kitchen table with mugs in front of them.

“Gabe has been helping me on my assignment. He was apprehending a suspect and the man shot him.”

“Where?”

“In the shoulder.” He explained what the FBI agent had said about the extent of his brother’s injuries.

“This have to do with the president’s sister?”

“Yes, it does.” The voice came from the doorway. “I’m sorry, Deidre, Tony, that your son got hurt because of me.”

“Come sit, Isabelle.” Deidre motioned her in. “No one’s blaming you.”

After pouring coffee, she took a seat and patted his mother’s hand.

Deidre kept it there, covering hers, too. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

“Much less now, because of what Gabe did.”

“We think,” Nick clarified. “We don’t know all the information yet. But I can tell you more at this point. Someone has been threatening Isabelle, stalking her, and almost caused a car accident the night before we came here.”

His mom’s hand went to her heart. “Oh, dear Lord in heaven.”

“But you caught him?” his father asked.

“We caught the man we think was doing the physical surveillance and maybe the accident, but we don’t know why or if others are involved.”

His mother’s eyes widened with fear.

Pa seemed to have calmed considerably, but Nick knew he needed to know what his father had been through. “Tell me about this precognition.”

Pa shrugged. “It just happens. When you were shot. A few times when Connor was in Syria, but he’d never confirm something went wrong. And several times with Whitney.” He ran a hand over his head. “Then Declan goes on those missions, which drives me crazy because we know every time he’s in danger.”

Guilt, dark and ugly, consumed Nick. “I’m sorry we all chose such dangerous careers. I never knew this kind of thing happened.”

“I never would’ve ever told you.”

“So, what will you do now?” his mother asked.

Ignoring the question, he said, “Can I do anything about these episodes?”

“Tell me quicker when something happens.”

“Sure, Pa. I’ll talk to the rest of the kids, too.”

“Now, let’s not discuss this anymore. What are your plans with Isabelle?”

“When I hear from the team interrogating the man we caught, we’ll go back to Catasaga. I’ll stay on with her until this whole thing is over.”

Deidre looked at Isabelle. “You said your children were safe?”

“In D.C. with my mother. She’s was an ambassador and kept her private security, but Jimmy’s got Secret Service protection for the grounds, too.”

“Whitney’s there, Mama,” Nick added. “Staying in the house. She’s been posing as a nanny.”

His mom’s face blanked, but now Nick knew how frightened both his parents got over their work.

“She’s an excellent agent, Mama.”

“Of course she is.” His mother stood. “Let me make breakfast and we’ll wait till Gabe calls.”

Isabelle rose, too. “I’ll help.” When she passed Nick, he felt her hand on his shoulder and sighed. And prayed he hadn’t gotten him and Isabelle in too deep last night.