Protecting His Kidnapped Family (Southern Soldiers of Fortune 2)

He blinked at Serena again, his brain flatlining as she yanked her shirt up to expose her boob and began feeding the kid. Then his logic and instincts went haywire. He was no expert on gauging the ages of babies, but this one looked small—no more than a few months old. Based on when they’d slept together, that meant…

Noah looked up at Serena’s face to find her watching him expectantly.

Shit, she’d asked him something and he had no idea what. He shook his head. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked who hired you. Was it my brother or

my best friend?”

“Oh, uh. Bella Sterns. The best friend, I guess,” he said automatically. Truthfully, he was still trying to process everything. Neither of them had been exactly sober when they’d had their one-night stand, and they hadn’t been particularly careful that night, so yeah. It was possible. He hiked his chin toward the baby. “How old is it?”

“Almost three months,” Serena said, smiling tenderly down at the baby. “And her name is Gracie.”

“A girl.” His chest squeezed unexpectedly.

He took a step back, struggling with all these weird emotions roiling inside him—fear, fascination, frustration, tenderness. As a rule, Noah didn’t do tenderness. And whatever the hell he was feeling, they needed to get a move on. It would be hard enough to get the two of them to the SSoF safe house on the other side of St. Dourdane by sunset even under the best of conditions, let alone with a baby in tow. He calculated the distance in his mind and the rough terrain ahead and knew they were pushing it big time. Fuckin’ A. “Come on. We need to go before those goons wake up.” He glanced down at her feet. “Do you have any sturdy boots?”

She gave him a flat look. “Hang on, let me check with my personal shopper and find out.”

Noah snorted despite the dangerous situation. He’d liked her confident snark from the moment they’d met. It was one of the many things he remembered fondly about their night together. “Dumb question. Sorry. We’ll make do with what we’ve got.”

He took her arm and guided her down the wide teak staircase to the first floor, past the two thugs unconscious in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Normally, he’d have taken the time to restrain them properly, but this being a one-man mission, Noah didn’t have time to deal with clean-up. His first priority was getting Serena and the baby somewhere safe and secure. Since getting the job a few months back and tracing the text message to St. Dourdane, SSoF had sent several recon teams down here to set up a safe house for Noah prior to this mission. At least that part of the puzzle was solved. Good thing too, since rampant poverty and political intrigue meant that people in this area were generally easily corruptible if enough money was on the table. Seeking shelter from the locals—even the local authorities—would just lead to trouble. Noah didn’t trust anyone but himself. “Ready?”

Serena nodded beside him, staring across the well-manicured lawn in front of them and into the rainforest beyond.

God, he wasn’t sure how it was possible, but even after months in captivity, suffering who knew what, she was still gorgeous. Maybe even more so with her hair longer and her curves softer and more generous after childbirth. She pushed past Noah and headed outside, holding her baby close. “Let’s do this.”

An hour later, they arrived outside a nondescript wood and metal cabin hidden in the forest. After checking the exterior and perimeter for footprints or any signs of attempted forced entry, Noah unlocked the door and secured the interior before waving Serena inside. “It’s not the Four Seasons, but it’s clean enough and safe for the night.”

“Any place that’s not the villa is good by me,” she said, gazing around the sparsely equipped room. Noah tossed the keys atop the small round table set near a kitchenette furnished with the bare essentials—microwave, small fridge, toaster oven. The generator outside kept everything running, including the lights, which Serena flipped on before clicking on a small antenna TV in the corner. The air filled with the low noise of the news anchor’s voice, rattling off the news in rapid-fire Spanish.

Noah translated the words automatically in his head after years of practice. He spoke five languages, thanks to the SEALs, including English, Spanish, French, Farsi, and enough Mandarin to get by.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Serena asked, muting the TV and walking over to inspect the contents of the kitchen. From where he stood, Noah was glad to see the cabinets and fridge were fully stocked.

“The plan is to sleep here tonight, then head across the island to join the others tomorrow. The extraction team is waiting to get us back to the US. Stay here while I walk the perimeter again.”

He didn’t wait for her answer before heading out. He’d been operating in SEAL-mode up to now, fully focused on the task of getting them to the cabin safely. But now that they were out here in a somewhat secure location, all his emotions from earlier came rushing back—shock, unease, wonder, fierce protectiveness. He needed some space and fresh air to process it all and figure out how to handle things going forward with her. He’d still not asked her if the baby was his, but based on timing and looks alone, it was pretty obvious. As they’d been hiking, he’d gotten a better look at the kid’s face. Gracie’s face. And damn if she didn’t have his cleft chin too. He remembered his mom telling him once that that was genetic.

So yep. Gracie was his.

And didn’t that just make his pulse race harder. Having grown up with parents who’d been just as happy to scream as look at each other, he’d not been sure if he’d ever want a family of his own. Hard to decide when the one you came from was so dysfunctional. Not that they hadn’t loved him, because they had. Just not each other. Theirs had been a quickie marriage, vows taken in the heat of passion, only to find as time went on that they weren’t compatible at all. His mom was cautious and concerned. His father was the polar opposite, a risk-taker of the first order. Noah had grown into a mix of the two, a careful gambler taking calculated risks, one foot on either side of the fence.

How that would play into being a dad himself, he wasn’t sure.

He finished checking the property and found nothing amiss, then inspected the generator again, happy to find a half-full gas can nearby to keep them going through the night, before heading back inside. Enough uncertainty. Time for the truth.

Serena was in the kitchen, the baby in one arm while she punched the buttons on the microwave with the other. She was crooning softly to the kid, and Noah found his heart lodged in this throat again. But he was no coward and he needed to get the question out before he couldn’t anymore.

“Is she mine?” he asked quietly.

At first, the only sign that Serena had heard him was that she stilled and stopped humming. Then slowly, she turned to face him, her serious expression telling him everything he needed to know even before she spoke.

“Yes, Gracie’s yours,” she said at last.

He nodded, denial not an option. His instincts had known it from the start.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” she said, turning back around to face the microwave, her voice a tad shaky. He had the crazy urge to rush over and hug her but stopped himself. Harder to suppress was the urge to argue with her. He might not be father material, but he took care of his obligations. He wasn’t going to leave her to raise his kid by herself. But even as he worked at formulating the words, she continued speaking. “I mean, I’m sure this comes as a huge surprise to you, but Gracie and I are fine on our own.”