Daddy to the Rescue Page 4

  Often Kirk couldn’t even tell her about his missions. But she’d kept track by his scars. A truck bomb in Panama had left a pucker from hot flying metal on his right thigh. Thanks to a mission to Haiti, he had forty stitches in his scalp that his hair covered, but that she knew were there. Desert Storm and Yugoslavia had given him a nasty chest wound and a cut on his ear.

  Only God and the U.S. Marine Corps knew where he was now.

  Since their divorce, a year and a half ago, she’d tried oh-so-hard not to think of Kirk, the marriage they’d once had and the memories they shared, which she still found so painful. She’d thrown herself into her work and taking care of Abby, and tried never to think of her failure to come to terms with Kirk’s dangerous occupation.

  She hoped Kirk was warmer than she was. She’d shoved a rotted stump into her makeshift igloo to sit on, but her butt felt numb with cold. After Abby finished eating, Sara changed her diaper, then kept the baby under her jacket for shared body warmth.

  Body heat wasn’t enough. Rocking back and forth to keep her blood circulating wasn’t enough. But what more could Sara do when her supplies consisted of spare diapers, a car seat and her laptop? She’d better come up with an idea soon or they might not survive through the night.

  KIRK AND LOGAN LANDED the chopper in Detroit and transferred to a private plane, a 727 outfitted with enough electronic equipment to give Kirk an idea of the variety and scope of the missions Logan’s team took on.

  Pepper sniffed the air, found a warm space between a leather sofa and a wall, curled up and snoozed.

  Logan made the introductions. “Jack Donovan, Kirk Hardaker.”

  The pilot, tall and lanky, shook hands. “Welcome aboard.” He had a warm southern accent, a firm handshake and a keen eye, and he sized up Kirk and Pepper in one sharp glance.

  “How’s the weather?” asked Kirk.

  The pilot eased into his seat, his gaze sweeping over his instrument panel. “We’re good to go.”

  “Is anyone else besides us flying into the storm?” Logan asked Jack.

  Jack winked at Logan. “I’ll get us there safe and sound, boss.”

  Kirk noticed that the pilot didn’t answer their questions, but relieved that the man seemed determined to fly through bad weather if necessary, Kirk strapped on a seat belt and accepted a headset from Logan. While the headsets weren’t as necessary in the relatively quiet plane as they were inside the chopper, the sheer size of this aircraft limited communication. With the headset, the men could speak to one another easily from within any part of the fuselage or connect to radio and phone networks through the cockpit.

  Jack spoke to both men through the headsets. “We’re starting to receive intel from Ryker.”

  “Ryker Stevens is ex-special forces with a master’s degree in business,” Logan explained. “His specialty in cracking the secrets of financial statements and balance sheets has solved many a case.” Logan spoke into the mouthpiece. “Ryker, what have you got?”

  The conversation suddenly became a four-way conference call as Ryker spoke. “Sara Hardaker was about to sell her software to the U.S. government for millions of dollars.”

  Kirk winced. Only Sara would carry something so valuable around without even a bodyguard to protect her. And she was one of the most unobservant people he knew. Once she lost herself in her intricate calculations and programs, she wouldn’t notice day turning to night, or that she hadn’t eaten or answered her phone. A stranger could openly tail her, and she’d never notice. He couldn’t imagine her as a mother, wasn’t sure he wanted to try.

  “Backup copies?” Logan asked as the plane taxied down the runway and smoothly lifted into the cloudy Michigan skies. The Great Lakes area didn’t offer many sunny days during winter, and today was no exception. Raining, at thirty-three degrees, the weather was the kind that made you want to curl up with a good book before a roaring fire, with a faithful dog at your side. But staying home wasn’t an option. Not with Sara lost in the Rocky Mountains.

  Ryker’s voice, precise and clear, reported to his boss. “If Sara made backups of her work, she hid them well. Or the software may already have been stolen. Her house was trashed. A professional job. No prints. Nothing seemed to have been taken, not even a gold watch left in a jewelry box on the bedroom dresser.”

  Kirk had given her the watch for an engagement present. She’d been so happy with his gift, and now it sounded as if she didn’t wear it anymore. Throw away the man, throw away his present. Only, she’d kept the watch—for sentimental reasons?

  Kirk felt like an eavesdropper. Worse, he was annoyed these men had invaded Sara’s bedroom, gone through her things. She was a private person who liked her own space.

  He hadn’t realized that in the almost year and a half since their divorce she’d moved from the Detroit apartment to a house. He thought of the baby and frowned. Apparently there were quite a few things he didn’t know about Sara anymore. How old was the baby? She certainly hadn’t wasted any time finding a new relationship. Who was the father?

  “What else have you got for me?” Logan asked.

  “Nothing yet on the pilot. He used a fake name and address, so we don’t have much to go on. The company that hired him seems as baffled by his identity as we are. He had no close friends and cashed his company checks at the local bank. The account’s been closed.”

  “Sounds like a dead end,” Kirk muttered.

  “Maybe not,” Ryker countered, seemingly not the least surprised by a stranger’s voice on the channel. “We got his prints off his stolen car and we’re running them through AFIS.”

  “Good. Logan out.” Logan cut the connection, un-snapped his seat belt and motioned for Kirk to follow him. Kirk signaled for Pepper to stay, then he headed aft toward the electronics section.

  A map of the entire country, which looked much like the weatherman’s map on the evening television news, dominated one computer screen. Logan traced an area over the Rocky Mountains with his index finger.

  “Cold weather’s moving in. Looks like snow—and lots of it.”

  Seeing the size of the weather system, Kirk felt a ball of ice freezing his gut at the hopelessness of Sara’s situation. With a strong effort of will, he focused on the positive. The pilot was willing to fly into that massive storm. The man was either courageous or an idiot, but Kirk was grateful that these men were willing to put their lives on the line to save Sara. They would have to land in the snow and the dark, in the middle of whiteout conditions.

  “I’ve brought snow booties for Pepper to keep her feet from freezing.” Kirk didn’t mention that search and rescue missions at night were fraught with danger. When neither man nor dogs could see well, it was too easy to make a mistake—especially in rough terrain. Going out in a snowstorm would be bad, but for Sara and her baby, Kirk would try. “You have any idea where her plane went down?”

  “Near here.” Logan circled an area in the mountains with his finger. “I’m hoping to pinpoint that information by the time we land in Colorado. Jack will fly us to base camp and another chopper’s on standby in Denver. ETA is after sundown.”

  “I’m heading out the moment we arrive.”

  “Not ’til daylight.”

  Kirk shook his head. “Daylight will be too late. The mountain air’s going to drop below freezing tonight. And if she’s at any kind of altitude, the temperature could fall below zero.”

  “Does Sara have any survival skills?” Logan asked, his voice deep with concern.

  Survival skills? Sara couldn’t remember to check the gas gauge in her car. The Sara that Kirk had married had trouble surviving in a fully equipped kitchen. She knew when supper was done when the smoke detector went off. It wasn’t that she was a rotten cook, she just couldn’t seem to stay in the kitchen long enough to see the preparation through to the end. She’d fix the food, then while she waited for it to cook, she’d wander over to her computer and wouldn’t look up until the apartment was filled with a burning smell. He imagined t
he baby had to cry to get fed.

  At the thought of the baby, Kirk realized he’d put off asking Logan the vital question. He’d been slowly working up the courage ever since Logan mentioned Abby by name. But Kirk suddenly couldn’t wait another moment to know the truth.

  “How old is the baby?”

  Logan didn’t need to check the file. He raised an eyebrow, but his voice remained level. “Eight months.”

  Eight months old, plus nine months in the womb. Seventeen months ago had been spring. And he’d been home on leave with Sara.

  Abby was his child.

  Kirk had a daughter and Sara had never told him. Happiness and pride, sorrow and anger stirred inside him in the oddest combination. Why hadn’t Sara told him? He had a right to know about the child—even if the mother had divorced him.

  As Kirk stared at the massive snowstorm blowing down from the northern states and Canada, he realized that he might never learn the truth. He didn’t know if Sara and Abby had survived the crash, but if they had, unless they found shelter and a way to start a fire, they wouldn’t survive the night.

  He refused to believe she was dead. However, he had no rational basis for that thought. None.

  Sara might be the most brilliant woman he’d ever met, but she was totally out of her element. Absentminded when involved in her work—and she was always working—Sara had to be reminded to put on her boots before going out in the snow. With a computer, the woman was sheer genius, but he shuddered at the idea of her alone on a mountain even during a warm summer rain.

  And Sara wasn’t alone. She had a baby to take care of. And a huge snowstorm coming in.

  He dialed her cell phone and prayed she would answer. The computer message that the customer was unavailable at this time made him feel like throwing his phone into the plane’s wall in frustration. Instead, he pocketed the cell phone and told himself to have faith. In Sara. In fate. In some greater power that wouldn’t allow him to learn he had a daughter, only to snatch her away.

  SARA HUGGED ABBY, who had fallen back to sleep after her meal. With the pine branches and snow walls of her igloo cutting the wind, she’d protected them as best she could from the elements.

  The last time she’d been out in snow like this was in college. She and Elaine had been studying in the stacks of the University of Michigan’s huge library. They’d been inside for hours, and when they exited late that Saturday night, the wind forced the women to keep their heads down as they trudged through the darkness.

  “There’s a party in West Quad,” Elaine shouted above the storm. “Let’s stop in.”

  Parties weren’t Sara’s idea of fun. Too much loud music, not enough good conversation. However, her face felt frozen and she’d welcome the warmth. Besides, she had decided she needed to get out more.

  College had opened up a whole new and exciting world for Sara. Although most of the computer science majors were men, she’d found a few other women with interests similar to her own. She’d discovered not only that she wasn’t a freak, but that she had a mind other students admired. Sara had made a few friends.

  Although she was far from classifying herself as a party animal, she dated occasionally. She had a social life, and she was mostly content. Busy maintaining her four-point average to keep her academic scholarship, she also worked part-time tutoring other students.

  So when Elaine grabbed her arm and dragged her into the dorm, Sara didn’t protest. The indoor heat relaxed her as they followed the beat of music to the party. Sara removed her hat, shoved it into her pocket and had started to unbutton her jacket, when a familiar guy rounded the corner of the room.

  Kirk Hardaker.

  She hadn’t seen him since high school. His lanky body had filled out with very masculine muscles. She’d heard he had been admitted to U of M on a full swimming scholarship, but on the huge campus their paths had never crossed.

  Until now.

  While he might still be a jock and she might still be a brain, she had learned more social skills. With only a slight skip of her heart, she shot Kirk a friendly grin. “Hi.”

  Okay, maybe “hi” wasn’t brilliant dialogue and just a bit awkward. She could get over awkward—but only if he remembered her. If he didn’t recognize her, she would just keep walking into the crowded room and right out the back door.

  “Sara?” Kirk strode over without hesitation. “Damn, you look good.”

  “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “Let me get you a beer.” He placed a casual arm over her shoulder and steered her toward a keg. Elaine disappeared into the room with a casual wave of her hand, leaving Sara to fend for herself. Not that she minded.

  Kirk had been her first friend in high school, and she’d always regretted that when he’d tried to kiss her, she’d knocked him flat on his back. And now, after all this time, fate had given her an opportunity to make amends.

  She sipped the beer and stared up into his steady eyes, which she still found inviting. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that nothing ventured, nothing gained. “You know, I’ve always wanted to apologize for hitting you. I thought you were setting me up.”

  “I figured that out—too late.”

  He rubbed the scar over his brow, and she recalled his bloody face with a wince that made him chuckle.

  “You left your mark on me,” he added.

  “Sorry.”

  His eyes glimmered with amusement. “You know what I’m sorry about?”

  “What?”

  “That I never found out what it would have been like to kiss you.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped, and she looked around, expecting a cheerleader or homecoming queen to appear and claim him.

  As if reading her mind, he grinned. “I came alone.”

  She’d forgotten how perceptive he was. “You’re not seeing anyone?”

  He shook his head. “Are you?”

  “Nope.”

  He took her plastic cup of mostly untouched beer from her hand and set it down. “Want to dance?”

  She hadn’t even felt the cold when they left the party together. Kirk had always had that effect on her. He kept her warm and feeling protected and cherished.

  She wished he were on the mountain with her now.

  But he wasn’t. Kirk was off on a mission, probably halfway around the world, and couldn’t possibly know that Sara and his daughter would likely freeze to death before morning. And yet, while she would have appreciated his survival skills, she didn’t really want to see him. Seeing him would bring back too much pain—especially his rejection of Abby.

  Not for the first time she wondered why he’d never answered her letters telling him about her pregnancy. She’d written twice, and when he hadn’t responded, she’d been forced to conclude that he didn’t care. Maybe he’d thought she didn’t deserve a response because she’d divorced him. Maybe he didn’t care, and that hurt most of all. He’d always put the military before her, and now he’d done the same to Abby, excising them both from his life as if they didn’t exist. When Kirk had finally called after Abby’s birth, she’d been too angry and hurt to talk to him, but now she regretted her decision. If she and Abby died on the mountain, she wanted Kirk to know about his daughter’s birth, her first smile, her first word.

  If she couldn’t talk to Kirk, she could at least write him one last letter. She could tell him about the wonderful baby they had made together….

  Sara refused to cry. She didn’t have the luxury of wasting the liquid of tears, not when Abby might need her breast milk in another few hours.

  Swallowing the lump of sorrow in her throat, Sara slipped the specialized laptop out of the plastic pocket of the diaper bag and flipped on the machine. Automatically, she checked the power. Even with the cold, she had enough juice left in the battery to last for hours.

  And then, as with every brilliant idea that seemed to come out of her subconscious, she suddenly thought of a way to stay alive. The battery had power!

 
Knowing she needed to work quickly, Sara placed Abby back into her car seat and covered her with the blanket. “Mommy’s going to make us a fire, darling.”

  Sara shut down the laptop, flipped over her casing and unscrewed the back with a twig. Knowing that she was destroying one-of-a-kind technology, she ripped out the wires between the motherboard and the hard drive, then removed the battery. She could always rebuild the hardware—if she lived long enough.

  She attached the leads to the battery with her fingers and was about to cross the wires to test the spark, but stopped. She had no idea how many times the battery would spark. She might only get one chance, and she couldn’t waste it.

  She needed kindling, but there was none to be had in her makeshift igloo. Her gaze fell on Abby’s diapers. She had none to spare. However, she could use Abby’s soiled one, the one she’d buried only a few minutes ago. The padding at the top of the used diaper was dry, and she tore it from the plastic. Next she gathered pine needles and small twigs from the tree.

  But she needed wood. While the stump would burn if she could make the fire hot enough, Sara needed thin branches to start out with and she didn’t dare not have them ready to go when she created her tiny flame. Nothing would be worse than kindling the spark, starting a tiny fire and then running out of fuel.

  She didn’t want to leave Abby. Didn’t want to go out into the storm. But she had no choice.

  Sara crawled under the branches and through the small opening she’d left in the walls made of snow. Bitter wind whipped her face and lashed at her jacket.

  As cold as it was inside her fort, outside was frigid. And dark. If there was a moon, she couldn’t see it behind the storm clouds. Snow stung her face, and she dipped her head down to avoid the full blast in her eyes.