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A Soldier's Honour
Regan Black
One soldier's long-lost secret is alive and wellWhen a security snafu turns his world upside down, Major Matt Riley reunites with his long-lost son.And fourteen years later, the military man is still captivated by his ex, Bethany Trent. Matt must convince her that their new family bond is for keeps – but first, he must keep them alive…


One soldier’s long-lost secret is alive and well
Regan Black’s thrilling new miniseries: The Riley Code
When a security snafu turns his world upside down, Major Matt Riley reunites with his long-lost son. And fourteen years later, the military man is still captivated by his ex, Bethany Trent. Matt must convince her that their new family bond is for keeps—but first, he must keep them alive...
REGAN BLACK, a USA TODAY bestselling author, writes award-winning, action-packed novels featuring kick-butt heroines and the sexy heroes who fall in love with them. Raised in the Midwest and California, she and her family, along with their adopted greyhound, two arrogant cats and a quirky finch, reside in the South Carolina Lowcountry, where the rich blend of legend, romance and history fuels her imagination.
Also By Regan Black (#ub017a5ec-faf0-5d43-853e-c074a2e5f3b3)
The Riley Code
A Soldier’s Honor
Escape Club Heroes
Safe in His Sight
A Stranger She Can Trust
Protecting Her Secret Son
Braving the Heat
The Coltons of Shadow Creek
Killer Colton Christmas
“Special Agent Cowboy”
The Coltons of Red Ridge
Colton P.I. Protector
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A Soldier’s Honour
Regan Black


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09355-2
A SOLDIER’S HONOUR
© 2018 Regan Black
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“You’re angry,” Bethany murmured.
“Bethany, you’re one of the strongest, most stubborn people I know. What good would arguing have done? All this time I’ve kept out of the way, giving you space and privacy at every turn. Everything you said would make you happy, I agreed. Now I want more.”
“More?” Her voice cracked. “Why are you doing this?”
“Last night you said you’d give me whatever I wanted,” he reminded her.
“And look how that ended,” she muttered. “I keep hurting you, Matt.”
“Not intentionally,” he said. He kissed the soft, delicate skin where her neck and shoulder merged. Her body seemed to sigh in response. “I want you. Trust that.” He turned her slowly within the circle of his arms. Her gaze was fixed on his chest and he tipped up her chin, the moonlight painting her face in a lovely glow. “Trust me.”
As soon as his lips touched hers he knew. Nothing had changed...
Dear Reader (#ub017a5ec-faf0-5d43-853e-c074a2e5f3b3),
Allow me to introduce the Rileys. Rooted in love and bound by honor and heritage, this close-knit family maintains the highest expectations of what military service entails both at home and abroad.
During my husband’s thirty years of military service there were moments that left me wondering what I’d married into. The laughter we shared over silly things—like whether POV meant point of view (as it does for authors) or personally owned vehicle (as it does for the army)—was offset by the tears and stress of deployment separations and other challenges.
We made good friends along the way and came out of the experience stronger as a couple and as a family. It takes determination and no small amount of courage to do what needs to be done, especially when doing so isn’t much fun.
As the eldest of the five Riley children, Major Matt Riley followed his father’s footsteps from West Point into a career as a US Army officer. Through it all, he has done everything in his power to uphold the standards of the army as well as the strong values he was raised on.
Having a child out of wedlock—and keeping both the mother and child a secret for fourteen years—will definitely change the family dynamics...
Live the adventure!
Regan
This book is dedicated to military families everywhere. Thank you for courageously serving through love, care and support of the men and women in our armed forces.
Contents
Cover (#u8d7162c5-426e-52ba-ab1d-8246e899e0af)
Back Cover Text (#ubb6510ae-f9d0-5403-97ab-00099acd8317)
About the Author (#u595fbec5-db2f-5ee4-bce6-2c40cef824b5)
Booklist (#uf87d36f2-8925-5186-b311-9dedf91acc7e)
Title Page (#ub8fa1124-0356-594a-98f8-e2f916bcf8c9)
Copyright (#u5c13643b-6819-53d5-a9fb-737cf90594bf)
Introduction (#uffada952-8c86-5d4f-80ae-2b768e1a5e06)
Dear Reader (#u268878ff-e7fe-5772-98c0-ee5540fa8dbe)
Dedication (#u9e95bab8-47e1-536d-a9cf-3ad8442c61ee)
Chapter 1 (#ud7a6c621-da6b-5f7e-85bf-aaaeb303eebe)
Chapter 2 (#u151ecc25-cea1-58a8-aa4a-139c3885ebe6)
Chapter 3 (#u5ff0dcab-457a-5d27-a09f-f07db2047f18)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1 (#ub017a5ec-faf0-5d43-853e-c074a2e5f3b3)
Bethany Trent pulled into her driveway and checked the clock on the dashboard. Her son, Caleb, still had thirty minutes of soccer practice. She’d arranged for him to have a ride home so she could swing by the grocery store and get a head start on dinner. Overhead, tall white clouds puffed slowly across the rich blue of the October sky, and she paused to appreciate the view as she unloaded the car. This was her favorite time of year, with the heat of summer gone and winter still weeks away.
If she hustled, she could get chocolate chip cookies—his favorite—into the oven before he made it home. Motherhood had taught her that teenage boys were easier to manage and more prone to chatter over food, particularly when their mouths were full. She figured the two of them had earned hazard pay for surviving his angst-ridden year of thirteen, and she was grateful that the sharpest of those edges had smoothed out over the past year.
As was the habit of children, change was inevitable. With Caleb, the changes and growth spurts often happened before she was ready. With his fifteenth birthday just over a month away, he’d started pushing back and, in some instances, shutting her out. His grades were still good, and he hung out with the same friends, but something had shifted. A girl, maybe? She didn’t know because so far she hadn’t found the key to open him up.
While putting away the groceries and gathering the ingredients for the cookies, she let her mind wander through the various approaches. She understood the logic and timing as Caleb asserted his independence. She’d been a teenager herself and recalled that internal tug-of-war between wanting to be autonomous within the steady framework and safety net of her wonderful parents.
She set out the butter to soften, preheated the oven and stirred dry ingredients. Cookies would never make up for the fact that Caleb was still one parental unit short. The pang of guilt she hadn’t felt in years prickled under her skin. As a single mom, she’d counted herself blessed with Caleb from day one. He was an amazing kid, who was growing toward a remarkable adulthood. He was a wonderful teenager, who had never met his father.
Beating the butter and sugar, and then adding the eggs, she coached herself a bit. It wasn’t as if she’d hidden everything from him, only the name. Through the years, when he’d ask, she’d assured Caleb his father was an upstanding man, who was committed to his Military career. She’d told him over and over that his father cared and provided for him; he just had to do it from a distance.
Caleb had never demanded to learn his father’s identity. He’d never thrown a fit, insisted on a meeting or raged at her about the situation. All things she’d heard other mothers cope with, usually in the case of divorce. Yes, she had an amazing kid.
Still, as she finished mixing the cookie dough, the scent of chocolate wafting up as she stirred in the chocolate chips, she worried. If having a father-in-absentia was the source of his recent withdrawal and curt moments, what would be the best next step?
She cut short the litany of “what-if” scenarios that crowded her mind. Caleb had given her no signals of the precise trouble weighing on him. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help either one of them. Please let it be girl trouble, she thought.
Well, the cookies were her strategy for today, and with luck, they would soften him up. Dropping the dough on baking sheets, she reminded herself she’d been strong enough for everything else, from giving birth to teething to sitting through the Alien movies while he recuperated from wrist surgery. She slid the first dozen cookies into the oven and set the timer. Telling Caleb the whole truth about his father was likely to expose her to a world of hurt, but she’d do it.
She’d do anything to ensure her son continued to feel safe, valued and loved. Maybe rather than aching over the past, explaining the circumstances and their choices would grant her a sense of relief and closure. And maybe pigs would sprout wings and put on an aerial display in that pretty afternoon sky.
The oven timer went off at the same moment the security system chimed and announced that the front door was open. She’d count that perfect timing as a good sign.
“I’m home,” Caleb called out as the door closed with a thud.
“Kitchen,” she replied, pulling the finished cookies from the oven and sliding the next baking sheet inside.
She turned as he walked in, his backpack slung over one shoulder, cleats dangling by their laces. There were grass stains on his knees, the side of his shorts and one shoulder of his T-shirt. The ripeness of his practice gear almost overpowered the aroma of freshly baked cookies. With his hair mussed and damp with sweat, he took a deep breath and a smile bloomed across his face. The one dimple, inherited from his father, creased his cheek. Here was her heart, her whole world. Today, her normal influx of love and pride was overshadowed by the lingering remorse that she’d kept Caleb to herself all these years.
No. She would not presume to know the trouble. She’d wait for him to confide in her. And she would answer his questions honestly and completely—if he asked. The answer to “why” had been rattling around in her head since the beginning: leaving his father out of the equation had been the best decision for everyone at the time. At twenty, they’d both been too young, with too much on the line to try to build a life together. It would have been a disaster.
Every year around this time, she debated broaching the topic first and asking Caleb if he wanted to extend an invitation for his father to become involved in his life. Every year, she managed to pull back before she blurted out the words and changed everything.
The idea of sharing her son wasn’t the problem. It was the potential for a disastrous fallout that scared her. Opening herself to those old emotions made her feel vulnerable in ways she’d never learned to overcome. She and Caleb were a family of two, a team where the dynamics were clear. For years, she’d chosen to give Caleb that familiar stability over the unsettling unknowns of a father on a high-profile Military career path.
After dropping the mail on the counter for her, he kept going toward the laundry room, where he dumped his cleats and backpack and stripped off his sweaty socks and shin guards. “How much longer on the cookies?” he asked.
She checked the oven timer. “Give this first dozen another minute before I take them off the cookie sheet. Then they’re fair game.” She plucked a spatula from the utensil carousel on the counter. “Did you have a good day?”
“Pretty much.” He shrugged and eyed the bowl of raw cookie dough.
“Don’t.” Bethany laughed. “I saved you the beater. It’s in the fridge.”
“Sweet!” He lunged for the refrigerator and pulled out the treat.
She pounced on his good mood and stole a hug before he could protest or dodge. Leaning away, she fanned her face. “Whew! Finish that and go grab a shower. You stink.”
“You always say that’s the smell of hard work,” he joked around a mouthful of cookie dough. He hooked a finger around the beater, dragging another chunk of dough into his mouth.
“It is when the smell isn’t a foggy stench in the kitchen. Go.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll try not to eat all the cookies before you get back.”
He dropped the beater into the sink with a clatter and dashed off, his feet pounding on the stair treads. Hopefully the promise of hot cookies would encourage him to keep the shower brief.
She flipped through the mail, part of her mind sifting through dinner choices to go with the cookies. The timer went off and she swapped out cookie sheets again. Returning to the mail, she’d decided on spaghetti for the speed and ease, as well as the sheer volume, when her hands landed on an envelope with an official government agency seal in the return address corner.
Seriously? Alone, she let loose an aggravated groan. As a contracts officer for the federal government, she’d heard about the breach of Military personnel records. Last week, it was all anyone could talk about at the office. Since she and most of her coworkers had security clearances at one level or another, they were aware their information had likely been compromised, as well.
This must be the formal confirmation that her information had been part of the breach. Good thing she’d taken precautions against personal identity theft years ago. Resigned, she opened the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper. Not an official notice at all, despite the proper agency letterhead. The two handwritten lines in the center of the page offered up a message far more sinister.
Your bank records don’t match your income.
Your secret will soon be common knowledge.
Blood rushed through her head, making her feel hot and cold simultaneously. She slumped to a counter stool, the single paper fluttering in her unsteady hands as she tried to bring her racing thoughts into logical order. She only had one secret and Caleb deserved to hear it from her, not some sneaky outsider with a gift for breaking through firewalls.
Addressing a threat like this was outside the scope of any standard identity-theft service. Clearly someone had discovered the banking discrepancy, courtesy of the support Caleb’s father sent her each month, but who would bother to look for something so benign in the first place?
She reached for her phone and snatched her hand back. Through the years, he’d practically begged her to call. Anytime, and for any need, his early letters and voice mails had vowed he’d be there for her and Caleb.
Did the two lines on the letterhead really warrant this phone call? Better to ask her attorney to reach out to him through the security office, except that wasn’t her primary concern.
Keeping her hands busy with the last of the baked cookies and then the dishes, she forced herself to think before calling anyone. First and foremost were Caleb’s rights and feelings. The people in charge of her clearance status already knew what the author of the note threatened to expose. Although the extra money might appear questionable to an outsider at first glance, an inquiry would quickly prove that everything was above board.
As a single mom with a daily routine leaning dangerously close to boring, she was hardly scandalous headline material. Good grief, her last promising date had been at least six months ago. None of the contracts currently on her desk were particularly sensitive. No one with any authority would care about her financial life or the private support agreement.
Why would anyone put in the effort to try to frighten her this way?
She dried the mixing bowl and measuring cups, stacked the cooling cookie sheets for Caleb to finish when they were done with dinner, the question stewing. Personally, her concerns revolved around how the news would impact Caleb and their extended family. Temper was a given, she’d known that deep in her heart for years. Her son would likely hate her for keeping the truth from him this long. Once he had the facts, she would be facing the very real possibility that Caleb would think the grass looked greener on his father’s side of the fence. And he was old enough now to speak for himself if his father—or his father’s family—pushed for custody rights.
Bethany scrubbed at her cheeks, wiping away a tear as it slid down her cheek. She would not let her mind run so far ahead and tumble off that particular cliff. She would think, assess and be logical about the next steps.
Officially, she supposed it was possible that this threat posed a real problem for Caleb’s father, putting a dent in that stellar career he had going. Yes, she would have to make the call.
Hearing the water shut off upstairs, she sighed.
It was time to tell Caleb everything about his dad and that side of his family. She couldn’t let him hear it from anyone else. Better if she and his father could do that together.
As she heard him moving around upstairs, she thought maybe the phone call to Caleb’s father would be a cakewalk compared to the challenge of hanging on to her son’s trust in the aftermath.
It was just past eleven when Major Matthew Riley and his boss, Major General James Knudson, walked out of the sports bar to meet the general’s driver waiting in the parking area. Shortly after setting up shop in the Pentagon, the general decided that the Monday-night football game would be a good weekly morale builder for his staff.
Arranging the event was Matt’s first official task as the general’s adjutant. It fell to him to locate a bar willing to accommodate their group and convince the staff members they’d enjoy it. Several weeks into the season, the effort seemed to be working. No one grumbled about the outing and a few spouses had started showing up as well, with the general’s encouragement, since no professional talk was allowed.
From all walks of life, everyone in the office had a different home team and creative methods of disparaging that team’s rivals. The inevitable jokes and teasing had given them common ground and sparked lively conversation and debate. It was the first of many excellent lessons in management and leadership Matt was filing away for the days when he assumed command of an Army battalion.
“I always feel a little guilty when I root against the local team,” the general said. Barrel-chested, with a long, confident stride, he stood a couple inches taller than Matt, who was six-one. His gaze continuously scanned his surroundings, proof that lessons learned in combat didn’t fade easily.
“Isn’t the phrase ‘When in Rome’?” The night had turned crisp while they’d been inside the bar, and Matt turned up his collar against the chilly breeze, and then tucked his hands into his pockets.
“It is,” Knudson replied. “You know, the Army has sent me all over the world, and I’m still the little kid from the West Coast who wants to stand up and do a wacky touchdown dance when my team comes through.”
“Wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Matt joked.
Knudson gave him an assessing glance. “You’d plaster that all over the internet.”
“No, sir,” Matt said, earnestly. “I’d only send it out as an internal memo.”
The general’s booming laughter carried through the clear night as they approached his car. “Need a lift home?” His driver hopped out of the front seat and opened the door for him.
“No, thank you, sir.” Matt pulled out his cell phone. “The app says my ride is only a few minutes out.” His one complaint with his Washington, DC, assignment was leaving his treasured, newly restored 1967 Camaro in a parking garage six days out of seven and letting someone else do most of the driving.
“Tired of my company already?”
Squealing tires interrupted Matt’s reply and headlights momentarily blinded him as a car barreled toward them, narrowly missing parked cars. Matt and the general came to alert and the driver moved into a protective position.
Matt shoved the general into his car through the open rear door, cutting off Knudson’s bellowed protest. “Stay low!” He barked the order at his superior officer and closed the door.
Huddled behind the protection of the car with the driver, Matt told him to call the police.
“On it,” the driver replied.
“Good.” Matt reached for his sidearm before he remembered they weren’t armed and this wasn’t a war zone. He didn’t have enough information to decide if that was good or bad news. The car had screamed past them, but was turning up the next closest aisle. Matt popped up long enough to confirm an escape route and hopefully get a license plate number.
An object hurtled through the air, forcing him to duck. He swore. The police would need more than the make and model of the dark sedan to track down this idiot. Black or dark blue cars with four doors were far too prevalent in this area. The erratic driver might as well be invisible.
A loud crack sounded when the object the driver had thrown hit the windshield of the general’s car before bouncing to the pavement near Matt. “What the hell?”
Tires screeched again and Matt peeked over the top of the trunk just enough to glimpse the sedan speeding away, taking the most direct route to the main street that looped around the hub of restaurants and stores. Thankfully sirens were close.
“Should I stay or go?” the driver asked.
“I’d feel better if you waited for an escort back to the general’s house.”
With a nod, the driver scrambled into the car and started the engine. He must have told the general the threat was over, because the back door flew open, nearly clipping Matt’s knees. Knudson lunged from the car. “What was that, Riley?”
“I’m not sure, sir.” He held out the object that had been thrown.
It was a baseball with a note scrawled on the side.
You will pay.
The ball wasn’t new. Grubby and battered, with several stitches popped, it looked as if it had been through as many campaigns as the general. Matt wasn’t an investigator, but he didn’t think this would give the authorities much to go on.
Emergency lights spilled over the pavement, glaring off the nearby cars while Matt, General Knudson and the general’s driver relayed every detail they could recall about the incident to the responding officers from both the Alexandria, Virginia Police Department and the Metropolitan Police from Washington, DC, who turned out after hearing who had been attacked.
The team from Alexandria sealed the baseball into an evidence bag and labeled it. Based on their grim expressions, it seemed they weren’t confident an old baseball thrown by an unseen assailant in a nondescript car was much to work with either.
“Drunk driver maybe?” One officer wondered aloud.
“Doubtful,” Matt said. “He didn’t clip a single car as he raced up and down the lanes. His reaction time on the corners was spot-on.”
The officer took detailed notes and gathered both work and personal contact information for each of them before letting them go. Matt exchanged business cards with the officers as well. Watching the general’s car drive off, he was pleased to see two metro police cars providing an escort.
Checking the app on his cell phone, he saw the ride he’d called for had waited five minutes at the pick-up point and left. On a sigh, Matt paid the nominal fee for missing his ride and walked back to the bar to call a cab, his mind recycling the incident and reviewing it from every angle.
The attack in the parking lot seemed like an over-the-top effort to break a windshield when such a bland, three-word message could have been sent anonymously by mail, phone, email or even as a text message. The ball could have been thrown with more accuracy and equal impact by someone standing a few yards away. The baseball had to be significant. He’d mention it to Knudson tomorrow.
When the cab dropped him at his building, he was weary and more than a little grateful the Tuesday briefings were always scheduled an hour later in deference to their Monday-night schedule. Accommodating Knudson’s request, he sent a text message that he’d arrived safely.
He took the elevator up to his floor and walked into his dark condo, facing another wave of what might have been. The sensation struck him whenever he took on a new stateside assignment. Though he’d been here almost three months, the persistent melancholy lingered. Working a more nine-to-five role in a vibrant city full of parks, museums and monuments only emphasized what he was missing most: family to unwind with at the end of the day.
It was easier to forget what he didn’t have—what he’d chosen not to pursue—when he lived and worked on Army bases or when he was deployed. Not that he didn’t encounter plenty of families on Military installations; it was just more obvious in civilian surroundings.
A Military brat and proud of it, Matt felt more at ease within the necessary structure of an Army post. He flipped through the mail he’d dropped on his counter when he’d come home after work to change for the game, and then he tore open the envelope with the formal letter about the recent cyber-security attack on Military personnel records and swore. He’d known it was coming, but in his mind the successful breach remained a black mark against the world’s finest Military.
After opening the envelope, he read the precise statement on the first page. The dispassionate phrases were laced with legalese carefully worded to avoid any true claim of responsibility or liability, while promising to track down the culprits.
“Good luck with that,” Matt murmured.
The second page offered instructions on how to register with the selected identity-protection monitoring service.
He laughed. Were people really supposed to trust a recently hacked department to make the right choice on protective measures? The idea seemed counterintuitive to him. Matt wasn’t sure it made much difference these days. Personal information, from social security numbers to credit cards, seemed to be at risk every day, and clearly this incident proved no system was foolproof.
That didn’t make it any easier for Matt to accept. The men and women in uniform should be able to expect that their service records and their personal details, as well as the details of their dependents, were protected.
The only personal risk he could foresee with the breach was that someone other than his attorney and the security-clearance investigators might learn there was a woman out there raising his child. A child he’d never seen. He sent her money each month, had done so from the very beginning, not that she’d shown much enthusiasm for even that minimal involvement from him.
For some ridiculous reason, Bethany’s mile-wide streak of independence put a bright spot in his weary mood. He’d always admired her independence until she used it as both a reason and an excuse to keep him from his son.
He couldn’t see the son he’d never met or publicly acknowledged as being of much interest to whoever breached the personnel information office. Anyone bidding on the data would be eager to cash in on the fast, easy targets of credit cards and social security numbers to recycle and resell.
Matt tucked the letter into the folder with the other bills and business he would deal with tomorrow. Pushing a hand over his short hair, he walked back to the bedroom, too tired to appreciate his sparkling nighttime view of the marina nestled along the Washington Channel.
He made mental notes along the way. He’d call his lawyer first thing in the morning, just in case someone followed the money he sent to Bethany each month. Broadcasting the information wouldn’t be much risk for blackmail or any other unsavory action, but it was better to be prepared. His arrangement with Bethany was legal and only the people who needed to know, knew. If the news got out, it might be uncomfortable for both of them for a time, but it wouldn’t be devastating.
Unless the information wound up on one of those notorious leaks pages and his mother heard about it there before he had a chance to tell her. Matt swore.
His first call should be to his mom. She didn’t deserve to hear she had a grandchild from a hacker leak. That was the kind of error that could get him benched for the next few Riley-family flag football scrimmages. Again, not the end of the world, but not something his siblings would let him live down.
He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it into the laundry hamper, and then toed off his shoes. He flopped back on the bed and just stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. It was too late to call his mom tonight and he should probably give Bethany a warning call first, in case his mother insisted on learning more about the grandson Matt had kept hidden from her.
Briefly, he entertained the idea of riding it out. Wait and hope to maintain the status quo or come clean and hurt the people he loved most? The odds were in his favor that news of their son wouldn’t come out at all.
Too bad he couldn’t be sure if that was denial, logic or wishful thinking.
Troubled and restless, Matt went back to the kitchen and poured a glass of cold water. As he leaned back on the counter, he drank it down and set the glass aside. He should call his dad and tell him about Bethany and Caleb. His dad’s wisdom and calm insight had been the underpinning throughout his life. Maybe his dad would dredge up a little pity for his oldest son and help him break the news to Matt’s mom and help him find the words to explain that she couldn’t contact the kid.
Now that was wishful thinking.
General Benjamin Riley, US Army, retired, believed choices and actions had consequences, good and bad. When Ben found the love of his life, Patricia, he’d married her, and together they’d raised their five children into adulthood with that core principle as a cornerstone of character. Life as the family of a career officer had been more than strict rules and high expectations. There had been plenty of love, laughter, bickering and tears to round things out.
Despite that vast, wonderful, messy experience to draw from, he’d never been able to convince Bethany to give them a chance to grow as a family. That was the piece of this puzzle that would disappoint his father.
When he stopped to think about it, the security breach was less daunting than the Riley family consequences of keeping such a big secret for the better part of fifteen years. Recently his mother had been dropping hints as subtle as carpet bombs about the potential delights of becoming a grandmother. She would be furious when she discovered he’d been holding out on her.
After loading his empty glass into the dishwasher, he headed back to bed. He supposed it was too much to hope that one of his four siblings was ready to confess a character flaw as significant as a child floating around in the periphery of their lives.
He was being an idiot, he decided, waffling and overthinking the ramifications. The situation—the secret—would have to change in light of the security breach. Since Bethany had sent the first picture and their son’s birth stats to the JAG office almost fifteen years ago, he’d known this day would come. It was really a miracle it had taken this long.
This had to come out, and better if they got ahead of it. First they needed to give Caleb the full, big picture of his family tree. He pressed his hands to his eyes as the first step kept shifting on him. Figuring this out was like walking across loose sand. One footprint changed both the previous and subsequent steps. Regardless, Caleb came first. After that, he and Bethany could figure out how he and his parents could be woven into Caleb’s life.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to sort out what was relief and what was more stress. Countless times through the years, Matt had been tempted to unload this burden on one of his siblings or a good friend. Somehow he’d always managed to keep his mouth shut. According to Bethany’s updates, Caleb was pretty awesome and growing more so every year. The way things stood, Matt couldn’t share school pictures or sports heroics with anyone other than the JAG office.
No, his family and friends wouldn’t be happy he’d lied by omission, but they would come around. “They will come around.” Matt stated the affirmation to the empty condo.
He had his phone in hand and had started to dial before he remembered what time it was and dropped it back on the nightstand. Bethany had been a night owl once. Most likely a career and a kid had revised those habits. He missed that quirk and so much more. The bone-deep longing for her and his son seemed to be the one wound time couldn’t heal.
He stripped off his jeans and socks and tossed them into the hamper and crawled into bed. As he set his alarm for the morning, his cell phone vibrated and rang with an incoming call. Matt gawked at Bethany’s smiling face filling the display. He’d pulled the picture from a post on social media. Maybe she was still a night owl after all. “Hello?”
“We have a problem.” The abrupt statement aside, Bethany’s voice was like silk brushing over his skin. He wanted to wallow in it.
“Yeah, the security breach is inconvenient,” he began, pulling himself together. “But it’s not the end of the world. The odds are a million-to-one they’ll connect the two of us. We have some time to develop a strategy.”
“It’s already happened,” she said, her voice flat.
“What?” He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”
“I received a creepy, handwritten threat today on official letterhead.”
Those two things didn’t mesh. “I’m not following,” Matt said.
Her soft sigh came over the phone, reminding him of the stolen moments they’d shared when they were younger. Moments that eventually became a wedge between them when she wound up pregnant.
How many times had he dreamed about convincing her to marry him? He hadn’t expected it to be a smooth road, but he’d been willing to navigate every pothole and speed bump with her. With her soft breath in his ear, he could imagine them in this bed right now, together, doing something far more fun than talking about a security breach.
“Matt? Are you there?”
“Yeah.” He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Focuson the reality. “What kind of creepy threat?”
“Instead of the letter I expected about the security breach, this is handwritten. Two lines. The gist is someone has done the math and decided I’m banking more than I make. The threat is that my secret will become common knowledge.”
“On the agency letterhead?” That was as strange as sending a threat via baseball. “Weird.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
He could tell she expected him to say something more profound. “Legally, you’re good.”
“I know that,” she said. “I’m not worried about the job or the clearance—I’m worried about Caleb.” She paused and he could so easily picture her teeth nipping into her full bottom lip. “I’m worried about your mom.”
“That makes two of us,” he admitted.
“You’ve never told her?” Bethany asked.
Was she joking? “If I had, you would’ve known.”
“True enough,” she said.
His parents had a reputation for their unflagging emphasis on maintaining family and balance within the Military framework. “I got my breach letter today, too. Mine was standard issue,” he added. “I figured I’d make time to speak to my parents tomorrow. After I spoke with you. I didn’t feel right saying anything until we talked.”
“Thanks.”
“I would’ve called sooner, except I just got home about an hour ago and thought you’d be happier if I called in the morning.”
“Oh.” The single syllable stretched out. “I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to make a plan,” she said briskly. “I’d like to tell Caleb before you tell anyone else.”
Was she asking for his permission or advice on breaking this news to their son? “Of course. How is he doing?” The last real-time conversation they’d had about Caleb was over three years ago, when he’d broken his wrist during a soccer game. Otherwise, she kept things vague, only sending Matt his school picture and occasional noteworthy updates about his grades or sporting successes.
Those small glimpses of Caleb had never been enough for him, yet he respected her wishes, her rules, because she’d given up everything to protect his place at West Point and, subsequently, his Army career. Time and again, he capitulated to the limits she set, because anything else made him feel grasping and whiny.
“He’s great,” she was saying. “I just don’t want him hearing this from anyone else. I’m not entirely sure how he’ll react,” she added.
“Has something changed?” The worry in her words felt like a knife twisting in his gut. This was only the second time he’d heard anything less than full confidence out of her. The first was when she’d been debating how best to be a mom and fulfill her career goals. “What’s going on with him?”
“Nothing,” she said a little too quickly. “Nothing’s changed. It’s still soccer and school, school and soccer. He’s a teenager, that’s all.”
Matt opened his mouth to push her, to make demands, but bit back the hard words. Instead he changed the subject. “Is he driving yet?” The query was a transparent attempt to learn if there was anything of him in his son.
“He’s studying for his learner’s permit. We’ll take care of that next week, while he’s on fall break.”
Matt remembered how excited he’d been for that same day as a kid. “Has he had any experience behind the wheel?” he asked, wondering if Caleb would have any interest or appreciation for the restored Camaro. Assuming they met.
“My dad has let him drive the four-wheeler on camping trips, and he’s let him drive the tractor on their property. I’m told he’s still pretty rough on the manual transmission, but he’s improving.”
“That’s good. It takes time,” he said. “You have enough set aside to buy him a car? I can send more money—”
“When that time comes, we’ll talk about it,” she said in a stern voice that bore a striking resemblance to Patricia Riley’s mom voice. “It’s still a good year or more away.”
He’d always believed the two women would get along well. They’d met once during a family day at West Point and seemed to hit it off, though his mom hadn’t known how vital Bethany was to him at the time. If she hadn’t forced him to keep Caleb a secret...well, now Matt had no idea what his mom might say or do when they met again.
And they would meet. Once Patricia learned about Caleb, she would be adamant about welcoming him into the Riley clan.
“Look, Matt, I called to make you aware of the creep-factor in this note,” she said. “I’ll report it to the security team at my office tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“Matt, I’d like you to be here.”
“At your office?” He held the phone back from his face as if that would clear up his confusion. “Huh?”
“When I tell Caleb, I would like you to be here with me. Us.”
His hand tightened around the phone. “You mean it?”
“Yes. I think it will help him understand if we’re telling him together. Help him feel valued and that we’ve always wanted what was best for him.”
He was going to meet his son. His heart hammered against his ribs. “Sure.” He had to find some real words. After all these years of wishing and wondering, he’d get to look his kid in the eyes, maybe even hug him or shake his hand. “Tell me when and where,” he managed at last. Too many emotions were warring for dominance. “I’ll be there.”
“Here, please. He’ll be home from practice around six and we could eat at seven.”
Matt was already doing the mental juggling over the drive time from Washington to her place in New Jersey, calculating how early he might need to leave work. He’d speak to General Knudson first thing in the morning, but there was no way he was missing that invitation.
“Once Caleb knows, you’ll be okay with me telling my parents?” he asked.
“I have to be, don’t I?”
He would have preferred the catalyst for meeting his son wasn’t her feeling cornered by some vague threat in a letter. Bethany didn’t have enemies, not like General Knudson or even his dad had. In careers as long and storied as theirs, enemies of several varieties began to stack up, from disgruntled soldiers to politicians, both local and abroad. He sighed. He could hear the conflict and misery in her voice. As much as he hated to give her a pass on this, he felt obligated.
“I can’t think of any reason anyone would target the three of us,” he said. “If you’d like to ride it out, we can. Whoever sent that threat will know soon enough there’s nothing to be gained. If you want to wait a bit before we have these conversations, I will respect that.”
“No.” Her voice was calm and steady, if not delighted by the prospect of tomorrow’s family dinner. “I’ve put this off long enough. I won’t risk him learning about this from another source.”
“All right.” Once more, he gave her full control, let her dictate how this played out. “I’ll be there at seven.”
“Thanks, Matt.”
“Thanks for the invitation.” She could have handled this mess alone and told Matt after it was done. She’d made it clear through the years that she could manage this parenting gig on her own.
He thought he heard a sniffle, but when she spoke, her voice was steady, if quiet. “I know this will change everything,” she began. “I only ask that it doesn’t change everything immediately. Caleb will need time to process this.”
“I understand.” She was warning him away from any abrupt changes over their custody agreement. “I’ve only ever wanted you and Caleb to be safe and happy.”
“Thanks for that,” she said, ending the call.
Matt held the phone to his chest. When he closed his eyes and thought of her, he still saw the athletic young woman he’d met when they were new cadets at West Point. Her big brown eyes had been full of nerves and excitement and eagerness for the challenges ahead. Like every cadet before him, he’d entered West Point with nothing more than his career on his mind.
Bethany had changed that. Success took on more meaning than simple pride in doing a job well for the sake of reaching his goals. She made him want to set and accomplish goals for the good of the team. Meeting her had made him a better person and student from that first day forward, though it hadn’t yet made him good enough for her to keep.
Matt reached up and turned out the light, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind flipped back and forth between the baseball lobbed at General Knudson and the creepy letter sent to Bethany. For both of them to get direct threats in the same twenty-four hour period made him question the motive behind the breach of the personnel records and who was buying the information.
Who would gain from exerting that kind of pressure? And how many other Military personnel and families were suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable tonight?
He read the reports as they came in with cautious optimism and rising confidence. His first warnings had been successfully delivered. Shots over the bow, so to speak, and now he waited to watch their response.
He imagined them scrambling, racing about in circles and jumping at shadows. They would chase the leads he gave them all the way to inevitable dead ends, only to start over on another path of his choosing. Having the world’s best Army dancing to his tune was an excellent feeling.
His plans were finally coming together. Years in the making, he found a delicious irony in using the security breach to his advantage. His team had been handpicked and painstakingly groomed to the tasks ahead. He’d deliberately given them a cause they could understand and support as he moved both key players and pawns into place for his ultimate revenge.
His charisma was a skill his superiors had consistently undervalued. The pompous fools had been unwilling to blur their clear vision and mission parameters to improve the overall morale in a way that would practically guarantee success on any field of battle.
Their loss.
The skills they didn’t value, he would now use to wreak havoc at both the individual and institutional levels. This was going to be phenomenal fun, as well as a just reward for everything they’d taken from him.
He swiveled his chair away from his desk until he could gaze out at the gathering night through the floor-to-ceiling window. At this end of the compound, there wasn’t another person for miles. Not another soul from here to the horizon. He’d earned the solitude, worked alongside the others to carve this quiet, impenetrable place out of the desert.
Now it was merely a matter of time before his first target came out into the open.
Once he had Matt Riley centered in the crosshairs, the first shot in this war would be fired, with brutal, irrevocable accuracy.

Chapter 2 (#ub017a5ec-faf0-5d43-853e-c074a2e5f3b3)
Nervous energy plagued Bethany all through the night. First she couldn’t sleep, and when she’d finally dozed off, her dreams had quickly turned to nightmares. Centered on change and loss and the unknown, it was easy to figure out the trigger. In the last one, she’d been listening to Caleb tell a judge all the reasons he didn’t want to live with her anymore. The judge had been giving his ruling that Caleb should spend the next fifteen years with his dad, denying her all visitation and contact, when her alarm had interrupted.
Eyes gritty, a knot of dread in her stomach, she dragged herself out of bed and tried to remember dreams and nightmares weren’t real as she showered and dressed for work. Matt wanted what was best for Caleb, and he was too honorable to play dirty and steal her son with the aid of family court.
Downstairs, she sipped tea while Caleb scarfed down his breakfast. No matter what she did, she couldn’t quell the notion that this was their last normal day as a family of two. Tonight, when he met his father, he would look at her differently, judge her through the lens of his teenage values and find her lacking. They were close, but suddenly she wasn’t sure their relationship could survive the turmoil ahead.
“You okay, Mom?”
“Sure.” She waved off his concern with a smile. “Didn’t sleep well—that’s all.” That was an understatement bordering on a lie. Clearly every conversation today would be guilt-inducing no matter how unrelated it might be to the revelations in store for Caleb tonight.
Without the usual reminder, he cleared his place and rinsed his dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. She found it refreshing and counted it as the first happy spot in her gloomy morning.
She double-checked her purse while he shrugged into his backpack. “How does Greek chicken sound for dinner?”
He paused and aimed a speculative look at her. “That’s company food.”
“Not always,” she said. “I’m just in the mood. It doesn’t sound good?”
“It’s fine.” He picked up his soccer bag. “Coach said practice ends with an endurance run. I might be a little late getting home.”
She glanced toward the calendar over the kitchen desk. “When did he add that?”
“There’s the bus,” Caleb said.
“Here.” She dashed over and gave him a quick hug. “Have a great day. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Caleb said on his way out the door.
She watched him jog to meet the bus rumbling toward the stop on the corner, one hand pressed to her queasy stomach. She didn’t want Caleb home late. That would mean time alone in the same room with Matt, a situation she’d successfully avoided since she’d told him the pregnancy test had come back positive.
She could call the coach and ask him to give Caleb a pass on the run, but that would also mean picking him up and dodging her astute son’s inevitable questions. The better option would be calling Matt and pushing dinner back by half an hour. Feeling good about that decision, she headed out to the office.
Her discussion with her supervisor went almost as smoothly as she’d expected. She showed him the letter, a little surprised by how seriously he handled the implied threat and her explanation that the source of the discrepancy was the child support she received from a closed agreement. He called security and they joined her in his office so she could relate the incident again and give them the doctored letter and envelope for further analysis.
She didn’t think they’d get much from it, but she agreed it was best to try. It was midmorning when she was finally able to get to her desk, only to find the department assistant had left two messages on her desk that were both from Caleb’s school. Bethany pulled her cell phone from her purse and found two more voice-mail messages from the school, as well. She listened to them quickly and they all amounted to brief requests to return the call as soon as possible.
Worried now, she dialed the school and waited for someone in the office to pick up. “This is Bethany Trent,” she said when the school’s secretary answered. “I received—”
“Yes, Ms. Trent. The principal asked me to put you right through. Hold just a moment.”
In place of hold music, a chipper voice recited the upcoming school events. Bethany tapped a pencil against a notepad on her desk until, at last, the line clicked and Principal Andrea Ingle’s voice greeted her.
“Bethany?”
“Yes.” She’d met Andrea long before Caleb became a student in her school, back when they’d first moved into the neighborhood. She counted the principal as one of her closest friends. “Has something happened?”
Andrea mumbled an oath. “I take it Caleb isn’t home with you?”
Her skin chilled and her heart kicked hard in her chest. “No. I’m at work. I saw him get on the bus.” She heard the desperate note in her voice and stopped to take a breath.
“Right, okay. We do have him checking in at homeroom, but he didn’t make it to Spanish class this morning.”
Bethany glanced at the clock over her desk that Caleb had made during an art project in second grade. Spanish class had started almost two hours ago, while she’d been in her supervisor’s office.
“Per your instructions, we’ve been trying to reach you while doing all we can to find him. I’ve spoken with the school resource officer. We haven’t yet called in the police.”
“Thank you, Andrea.” She forced herself to keep breathing. Panic wouldn’t help anyone find Caleb. “He’s not in the building?”
“No. I think he left on his own after his homeroom teacher took attendance.”
He was safe. He had to be. And when they found him, she’d wring his neck and ground him for the rest of his life. “Is there a camera or anything to verify that?”
“Unfortunately, all I have is a hunch. There are only cameras at the main doors and he didn’t use either of those. We’ve walked the building and grounds twice. Do you want me to call the police?”
Her heart dropped at the suggestion. “Not yet. I have an app installed on his phone. Let me check that first. Are his friends in class?”
“Yes,” Andrea said. “I thought of that too and I’ve spoken with each of them. They don’t know where Matt is or why he might have left. Keep us posted and let us know how we can help.”
“I will,” Bethany promised. She replaced the handset in the cradle on her desk phone and immediately brought up the app on her cell phone. Her hands trembled as the app showed Caleb’s phone was somewhere near Philly.
She called him immediately, but he didn’t pick up. She sent a text, and as she waited for a reply, she struggled to find a logical explanation for his behavior. Had Caleb overheard her conversation with Matt last night? Had he been in more trouble or more upset than she’d thought?
She wasn’t buying into those scenarios. He’d been himself over spaghetti last night and in a good mood this morning. She groaned, reviewing his behavior in her mind. He’d been planning this.
Still waiting for a reply from Caleb on her cell phone, she used the office phone to call his soccer coach. Dread and fear were an icky congealed mess in her stomach when the coach said there was no practice at all tonight. Caleb had been lying about being home late.
She sat back. Anger and hurt quickly burned away her initial worry. What was he up to?
The standard school policy when a child was absent was an automated call after 6:00 p.m. Because of her unique situation with Caleb, she’d had a standing request at every school that she be notified immediately if anyone other than her or her parents asked about Caleb or tried to pick him up from school.
She wasn’t so paranoid that she thought Matt would try something as outrageous as taking him right out of school; she just needed the extra layer of confidence and support. Fortunately school administrators had been cooperative and, until today, her precautions hadn’t been necessary. Thank goodness she’d never shared that particular safety detail with her son.
Whatever Caleb was up to, she had to assume he thought he’d have an entire day to himself. Why did he have to do this today? And why run off to Philadelphia?
Her head pounded from lack of sleep and a resurgence of worry. Matt was coming today. Lovely that Caleb would pull this kind of stunt on the day she wanted to introduce him to his father.
On a hunch, she checked his bank account. She’d opened a checking account for him and started teaching him about personal finance as soon as he’d started mowing lawns in the neighborhood for extra cash. Reviewing his recent activity, she gaped at the screen. Despite the evidence in front of her, she resisted the truth.
Once more, she picked up her desk phone, this time dialing the Pentagon’s switchboard. “Major Matthew Riley, please. He’s currently the adjutant for General Knudson.”
It took some time for the call to reach Matt, but when he picked up the call, she wasted no time. “Dinner’s off.”
“Bethany?”
“Yes. It’s me.” Her heart was pounding and everything in her was urging her to leap into action, to chase down her son. “I’m sorry to be so abrupt. I think Caleb is on his way to see you.”
“What? Did you tell him already?”
“No.” They’d come up with a plan, and she intended to honor it. “He’s skipped school, Matt. First time ever.” She forced herself to slow down and relay the facts. “I’m looking at his bank account. He purchased a train ticket to DC two days ago. He’s not answering my calls or texts. The app I have is showing that he’s close to Philly.”
“You have a tracking app on his phone?”
The censure only sparked another flash of temper. “Pardon me,” she snapped. “How many busy and bright teenagers have you raised?”
“None,” he admitted. “Though I recall volunteering for the task plenty of times.”
She took a deep breath. “That was rude. Sorry,” she repeated, this time meaning it. “I’m just worried.”
“And mad.”
Was that anger in his voice, as well? “Yes, and mad,” she admitted.
“You think he skipped school and put himself on a train to Washington in order to find or meet me.”
“That’s as much logic as I can make of his actions,” she said. “He’s not skipping with any of his friends.”
“All right. If he’s in Philly now, it won’t be long before he reaches Union Station. I’ll get down there and find him.”
“Thank you.” Relief coursed through her at his confidence.
“I’ll have him call right away. I’ll bring him back home, and we can all have dinner as planned.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t come up with a reason why they shouldn’t go ahead with dinner. “You don’t have to do that.” Caleb had purchased a round-trip ticket.
“Would you rather come to DC and have dinner at my place?” he queried.
“No.” She heard the reply came out more like a question.
“Well, I’m not dumping him back on the train.”
“Matt, you really don’t have to—”
“Bethany, I was planning to drive up anyway. This is exactly what I want to do. Caleb and I will be there by seven.”
“Okay.” What option did she have? She couldn’t get to DC ahead of Caleb. Rushing after him, having this conversation on Matt’s turf, wasn’t her idea of a good time, either. “Let me know when he arrives, okay?”
“I promise.”
“One more thing.” She closed her eyes against a sudden rush of tears. “Let him know he’s grounded.”
Matt tried to disguise his bark of laughter as a cough. She wasn’t fooled. “That’s not funny.”
“It is,” he said. “My first parenting milestone is discipline.”
His humor in the situation lifted the burden, eased the sadness a little. “I wanted us to tell him together.”
“I know. I’ll do what I can to save the hard questions for you.”
“Again, not funny.” So why did she want to laugh? She plucked up a pen and started doodling on her pad of sticky notes.
“Any idea how he found me?” Matt asked. “Or why he came looking today of all days?”
“None. Hopefully he’ll confide in you.” It seemed an odd thing to sincerely wish for under the circumstances. Clearly they’d entered new and uncharted territory. “I’ll text you his cell number. Thanks for your help,” she said. “I know this is an inconvenience.”
“Don’t say that.”
His voice, low and kind, rumbled across her senses. She blamed the resulting shiver on stress. “I need to notify the school that we think we’ve found him. I don’t want them to worry any more than I have been.”
“All right.”
And yet, long minutes after the call ended, she still sat there, paralyzed by fear of how the evening would go and how her relationship with Caleb would change. She was his mother, not his friend, but they’d been an unbreakable team since day one. Honest with each other, candid and clear, she’d made every effort to give him a stable life, while assuring him that his father was a good man, doing good work in the Army.
On top of that nonnegotiable stability, she’d given Caleb roots and tradition with her side of the family, let him know he was loved and valued. She’d created opportunities to explore various interests, while fostering an appreciation for history that matched hers and Matt’s.
That had been her one calculated effort once she’d accepted that this day would come whether she wanted it to or not. Matt had respected every limit she’d set in her quest to raise Caleb alone. The two of them deserved to have some common ground from the first introduction.
Strange that until now, when she could only guess at Caleb’s reactions, her choices had never felt quite so selfish or self-serving. She’d been so confident that giving Matt room to have a Military career unencumbered by a whoops baby was the right thing for everyone.
Now she felt as if she’d done them all a grave disservice.
Matt gathered his thoughts before striding to the general’s office. He supposed this conversation would be good practice for telling his parents about Caleb. It was rather surreal that he’d be having that conversation tonight.
He knocked lightly on the open door. “Do you have a minute, sir?”
“Come in,” Knudson said. His normally jovial smile was slower to show up today. “Have you heard something from the police?”
“No, sir. This is a different matter. Personal.” He closed the door and came forward to stand next to the guest chairs.
“And serious,” Knudson observed. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Better to just get it out there as efficiently as possible. “I have a son.” Wow. He was finally getting to share this with someone. A surge of pride shot through him as the general’s eyebrows lifted. “He’s fourteen, almost fifteen,” Matt added, thinking aloud. “His mother has been raising him alone. She insisted on complete privacy on the issue, although I’ve contributed financial child support since the start.”
“Well, that’s the responsible move, son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I can assume there’s a legal arrangement?”
“Yes, sir,” Matt confirmed. “And it’s been noted properly all the way through my security clearance investigations.”
“All right.” Knudson bobbed his chin. “Why has it become an issue today?”
Matt kept his shoulders back when he wanted to slouch with relief. “It seems he’s learned about me. He didn’t find out from his mother.”
“The security breach?”
“Possibly, though I don’t see how a fourteen-year-old would have access to my personnel records, even if he knew to look for them. His mother just called to let me know he skipped school and appears to be on a train scheduled to arrive at Union Station in about forty minutes.”
The general gave a short bark of laughter. “Sounds like he’s a chip off the old block after all.”
“Possibly,” Matt allowed, trying not to smile. “I suppose my mother would know that answer.” Assuming his mother had known he had a son.
“Always admired your mother,” Knudson said. “Ben and Patricia are dear, dear friends.” He studied Matt long enough that it was a struggle not to fidget. “I take it I’m the first person you’ve told?”
“Yes, sir. Outside of the JAG office and the security clearance investigators,” Matt replied.
Knudson’s gaze grew serious. “If I could offer a piece of advice?”
“Please, sir.”
“You’ll want to soften up that delivery some and show more remorse about keeping the secret—whatever the reasons—when you tell your mom.”
“Thank you, sir.” Matt intended to do all of that and more.
He’d been trying to be as efficient as possible with Knudson, in the interest of time. He already had a shopping cart loaded with her favorite wine and chocolates waiting online. All he had to do was complete the purchase and request rush delivery. He’d also made a mental note to bring flowers with him whenever he saw her in person, for now until the end of time.
“Take the rest of the day off,” Knudson said. “But if you bring him for a tour, I’d like to meet him.”
Matt made appropriate assurances and escaped the office, arranging for a ride to Union Station. By the time he arrived, the train Caleb was likely on was only a few minutes out. Matt breathed a sigh of relief. If he hadn’t been here in time, Bethany would have cause to skin them both.
It wasn’t easy trying to spot one teenage boy as passengers flooded from the trains and into the terminal. He’d only ever seen Caleb in school or soccer-team pictures. Bethany was commendably stingy about posting more candid photos of him online. Understandable, but it meant he had to look at how people moved in groups rather than for the individual face. Even at midday, the terminal was busy enough that he almost missed a young man of the right height and age passing by alone, his face down as he fiddled with his cell phone.
Matt fell in behind him and dialed Caleb’s number.
The kid who was a few paces in front of him stepped out of the flow of foot traffic and swiped the screen to answer. “Hello?”
Matt heard it through the phone a half second after he watched Caleb’s mouth form the word. “Hi, Caleb,” Matt answered. The kid looked so much like his mother, it was uncanny. He had her big brown eyes, under straight eyebrows. His dark blond hair, cut in a modern, subtle Mohawk, was streaked by the sun from his time on the soccer field. Matt had seen the resemblance in the pictures. In real life, the similarities were startling. What now?
Caleb’s gaze darted around the terminal before landing on Matt. The hand holding the phone seemed to melt as he stared.
Matt couldn’t move. His heart had lost its rhythm and his breath stalled. He’d felt stronger on his first jump from an airplane to graduate Airborne School. This was his son. His son. Those two words comprised the entire sum of his thoughts, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.
And he was a father, damn it. Gathering himself, he took a firm step forward, catching himself before he yanked Caleb into a bear hug. One more step and he closed the distance, sticking out his hand. “Matt Riley. Pleased to meet you.”
Eyes wide, the kid met his handshake, and words seemed to fail him.
Matt understood the magnitude of the moment and sympathized. He was still on the verge of losing it himself. “You are Caleb, right?” The boy nodded. “Good.” Matt tried to smile. “Your mom, Bethany Trent, called and told me you might be here.”
At the mention of his mom, Caleb blanched. “She already knows I’m here?”
Matt nodded. “She says you’ve dodged her calls and texts.”
“No.” He hunched his shoulders, as if he could slouch into the shelter of his backpack. “Technically my phone is supposed to be off during school hours.”
Technically. Matt remembered how poorly that excuse worked on his mother. “Do you know who I am?”
Caleb nodded, swallowing hard.
“Good. Call your mom. Let her know you’re safe.”
Matt waited, laying a hand on his son’s shoulder when he saw him sending a text. “Call. Use the speaker.”
“Yes, sir.” Caleb swiped to a different screen and held the phone so Matt could see the display, as well.
When Bethany answered, her relief was obvious but it didn’t take long for that relief to give way to blistering anger. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she said. “Matt and I have decided he will bring you home and we’ll discuss this together.”
“Mom, I just—”
“Tonight, Caleb.” She cut him off. “There will be consequences. Behave for Matt. I love you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Love you, too.” He pocketed the phone and stared up at Matt.
“I’m supposed to tell you you’re grounded.”
“A given,” Caleb said with a shrug. “I thought I’d have a few hours at least before she had a chance to say that. The truancy calls don’t go out until the evening.”
Matt didn’t know anything about truancy calls. His thoughts were tied up with the realization that it wouldn’t be too long before he was looking his son in the eye. He’d missed out, been held back, from so much.
“So,” he began, worried about making the wrong move here. “This wasn’t a school-sanctioned field trip. Did you have a plan?”
Caleb’s narrow shoulders slumped. “Sort of.”
“You were going to navigate Washington, DC, on your own?”
“To find you and meet you? Yeah.” He bumped one heel against the toe of his other foot. “I really thought we’d have some time to talk before she realized I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.”
What had motivated him to take this kind of chance now? “How did you even know to come looking for me?” Matt asked.
Caleb turned away, hefted his backpack. “Mom told me you—”
“Try again.”
Caleb’s head snapped up. “What?”
His mother would have corrected him, but Matt wasn’t going to mark this first hour of parenting with discipline and lessons in manners. “I know your mom’s never told you my name.” Matt watched a glint of battle fire in Caleb’s eyes and braced for an argument, but he subsided with another shrug. “She invited me to dinner tonight so we could tell you together.”
“I knew it,” he muttered. “Greek chicken is always for company.”
Matt wasn’t sure he followed that topic change, chalked it up to the communication deficit. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with kids this age.
“Come on, let’s walk.” He resisted the urge to put his arm around the kid’s shoulders.
“Do you really work in the Pentagon?” Caleb asked. “Can I have a tour?”
“Not today.” Inexplicably uneasy, Matt glanced around. “Where did you get your information?”
“I got a snap with your name and rank. A picture,” he added.
Matt knew which cell phone app Caleb was referring to. Typically the messages disappeared within a few seconds of being opened by the recipient.
“And you thought I sent it?”
“No,” Caleb said.
“The sender have a user name?” Matt asked when Caleb didn’t volunteer more information.
“Does it matter?” He hefted the backpack again. “He double-checked who I was and then more stuff came through. Stuff about you. The information was real, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Matt didn’t like the way this was shaping up. “When did you get the messages?”
He cocked his head, thinking. “The first one was about two weeks ago.”
That would fit the likely timeline as the compromised information was being sold off. “There were more?” At the boy’s nod, Matt asked, “Did you save the messages?”
Caleb’s lip curled. “Like I wanna pay for a free app? I made notes, though.”
“Good.” An itch had cropped up between his shoulder blades. Instinct drove him to get away from the terminal and into a safe space that was out of the public eye, as fast as possible. Rather than pick up the Metro here and head straight for the Pentagon or his condo, he decided to be less predictable. “Where did you keep those notes?”
“The hard copies are at home. I have a file on the cloud, too.”
“All right.” That would give investigators something to work with. As soon as he decided which law enforcement agency might consider a few random snaps as a crime.
“The snaps were clues sort of,” Caleb was saying. “Like I’d get a name or place, maybe a picture. Then I would start digging around online. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Except skip school, take a train alone to a city you don’t know and lie to your mom about it.”
“She’s lied to me, too,” Caleb shot back, his gaze full of hurt. “All. My. Life.”
“Well, life’s about to change,” Matt said, wincing. That didn’t take long. A dad for ten minutes and he was already quoting his father’s wisdom. He kept Caleb close as they moved along the sidewalk, sidestepping tourists. “And three lives are permanently changed now.”
“You’re mad at me.”
Matt had to slow down as Caleb began dragging his feet. They weren’t safe yet, though Matt couldn’t point to any specific reason why he felt they were at risk. “I’m not mad at you.” He was aggravated with whoever compelled his son to take these risks. And he wasn’t exactly thrilled with Bethany for keeping him out of Caleb’s life this long.
He gripped Caleb’s shoulders lightly, waiting for him to meet his gaze. “You were resourceful and smart right up until you skipped school and made your mom worry. Moms don’t like that kind of thing.”
“You worried your mom?”
“More than once,” Matt confessed. “You think I was hatched in this uniform?” Caleb snickered. “That’s how I know.” Bethany and Patricia had similar standards about child-rearing. No wonder he loved her still.
Whoa. Love? That had to be some transference effect of being around Caleb. Regardless, he’d pick it apart later. Right now, they needed to keep moving. He was sure someone was watching them, although he couldn’t spot the tail.
If Caleb reached DC without any trouble, only to get hurt on Matt’s watch, on his first day of parenting, he’d never forgive himself. Nor would he ever be forgiven. He ducked into the next storefront, pleased to discover it was a deli. “Hungry?”
They moved to the counter and ordered a couple of sandwiches and soft drinks. It was early for the lunch rush, so they had their pick of the few tables. Matt guided Caleb to a two-top near the back wall and took the seat that gave him a view of the door and sidewalk out front.
While they waited for their food, Matt sent a text message to his office, offering to bring back lunch for everyone. It would give them a place away from prying eyes to regroup and make a plan.
“You look mad,” Caleb said.
“I’ve been told that. It’s my thinking face,” Matt explained. He wouldn’t lump fear or worry onto his son’s shoulders. “Your timing is crazy,” he said, trying to smile. “We really were going to tell you tonight. Your mom was convinced the acting out would start tomorrow.”
Caleb dragged the drink straw up and down through the hole in the lid, making an annoying noise. Matt didn’t react. His little brothers, twins, were five years younger. He could teach master classes on how to ignore annoying moments and get even later.
“How is your soccer season?” he asked.
The noise stopped suddenly. “Now you want to be a dad?”
He’d wanted that from the beginning. “I’d like to get to know you.” He would not blame Bethany for the estrangement. “You came to me.” He sat back, spreading his hands. “Now’s your chance. Just you and me. I’m an open book.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he judged the offer. “Did you not want me?”
“Of course I wanted you,” Matt said.
He leaned forward, his voice low. “Then where have you been?”
And now he understood why Bethany hadn’t wanted to face this conversation alone. Man up, Riley. Hard questions now equaled a single drop in the ocean compared to what she’d been handling for Caleb’s entire life. “There hasn’t been a day since your mom got pregnant that I haven’t wanted you.” The resulting eye roll didn’t surprise him, but it prompted a change in tactic. “How did you find out about me?”
“I told you. The snaps.”
“Right. And how do you think the sender got the information?”
Caleb’s eyebrows dipped into a perplexed frown. “Never thought about it.”
“The personnel records for the Military were hacked recently. About the time you started getting messages on that app. The reason there was information for someone to send to you is because I’ve been sending your mother a percentage of my pay as financial support every month since before you were born.” He decided not to mention the threatening letter Bethany received last night, but it would be more for investigators to piece together.
Caleb’s gaze narrowed as he studied Matt. “So what’s wrong with you that Mom didn’t think you should stick around?”
Matt supposed that was the easy way to put it, and he wished it didn’t feel like the truth. “We met at West Point. We were in the same cadet class there and became friends.” Matt couldn’t suppress a smile at the fonder memories. “We were young and we cared about each other a great deal,” he continued. “Your mom made some really tough choices when she found out she was pregnant. She did what she thought was best for her and ultimately for you.” She’d cut him out and left him reeling. “I honored her choices, but insisted on helping in the only way she would let me.”
The sandwiches were delivered and Matt asked the server about a to-go order for the office.
“Mom never said anything about going to West Point.” Caleb frowned again as he squeezed ketchup into a puddle beside his french fries.
“She was there for three semesters,” Matt said. “She transferred to another school when we got pregnant.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone I was your baby or anything?”
Bethany had insisted it would be an honor violation that would get them both expelled, ruining his career and jeopardizing her transfer and scholarship. He’d been willing to risk the potential demotion or discipline. Hell, he’d been willing to transfer with her to a new school. She’d refused, claiming his place was to follow in his father’s footsteps. She’d turned down every option Matt offered on the basis of personal responsibility: her body, her rules.
If she wanted Caleb to know all of that, she’d have to share it. He didn’t feel it was his place to do so.
“I wanted to,” Matt said at last. “And I did my best to convince her to let me be part of your family from the start.”
Caleb studied him again, apparently finding the explanation sincere. “Mom can be pretty stubborn.”
“Her picture is part of the dictionary definition,” Matt agreed, making Caleb laugh.
The unexpected burst of such a happy sound reminded Matt of Bethany. Jealousy flared and flashed through him that she’d had a lifetime with Caleb and kept him out of the loop. Thankfully the bitter-tasting emotion drained out of him almost as quickly as it had appeared.
This wasn’t all on her. He could have pressed for his paternal rights and visitation and probably should have. Had they both taken advantage of the easier, ready excuses of his career and her independence? However this had come about, now they had a chance to make a better choice and create a fresh start for their future as a family.
“Why do you keep staring at the window?”
He didn’t miss a trick. Matt approved of his observation skills. He thought about shooting straight with him and anticipated Bethany’s reaction to that. Their son was only fourteen. He tempered his answer to fall somewhere in the middle. “You finding me now seems tied to the security breach, hack or whatever the official term will be. I don’t trust that kind of coincidence. Something feels off.”
Caleb twisted around to check for himself, and then turned back and tucked into the food again. “You think I was followed?”
Or sent. He kept that theory to himself. It seemed a little far-fetched, even in his head. “It’s crossed my mind.”
Assuming this situation was a deliberate setup and put into motion by someone who’d used the compromised information, it pissed him off. Of the three of them, only Matt hadn’t been threatened. It infuriated him that some jerk would target the innocent civilians tied to his profile rather than come after him directly.
“Cool. It’s like James Bond or something.”
Matt should have known. “This isn’t a movie, Caleb. If someone used you or manipulated this situation, that stops now.”
“So you’re sorry I found you.”
“No, I didn’t say that.” His appetite gone, Matt wrapped the remains of his sandwich for later. He couldn’t expect Caleb to instantly accept and believe that Matt loved him and had always wanted to be part of his life. “All this time, I’ve only had pictures and a few annual updates. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time. You can verify that with your mom tonight over Greek chicken.”
“I will.”
“Good.” His phone chirped with a text message that the order for the office was ready. “If you’re not done, we’ll get a to-go box and you can eat with the rest of the general’s staff at the Pentagon.”
“You mean it? We’ll eat inside the Pentagon, really?”
Matt nodded. “Go get a box for each of us. I’m calling for a car.”
Caleb jumped up and hurried to the counter and Matt pulled up the app on his phone, only to be interrupted by another text message that the general’s car was on the way to pick them up. Although Matt might have protested the assist in the past, today he was happy to accept.
This wasn’t a combat zone, but something out here was pushing his buttons. He needed the familiar confidence of knowing he had a team at his back, even if they were all currently in administration roles.

Chapter 3 (#ub017a5ec-faf0-5d43-853e-c074a2e5f3b3)
Bethany stared at the incoming messages and a couple of selfies of Caleb and Matt. Her son was apparently having lunch with General Knudson and his staff in the Pentagon. The boy landed on his feet, every time. Not unlike his father.
As a mom, it seemed as though Caleb’s day was looking more like a reward than a disciplinary action for a kid who should have been in school. And as a mom, she knew her son was having the time of his life. With his father.
She wanted to be angry and stay angry, but she just couldn’t hang on to it for long. Oh, she was aggravated about Caleb’s unauthorized jaunt to DC—and he would pay a price for that—but her heart turned gooey when she saw the father and son together. Their faces were so similar, especially with the matching dimples when they smiled.
Her world had turned inside out in a matter of hours. The idea of the two of them together gave her warm fuzzies, chased by chills she kept bringing on herself. Guilt and regret were her new best friends throughout the rest of the day. Her mind kept traipsing back through all the milestones Matt should have been part of.
Through the years, she’d discarded several opportunities to invite Matt into their lives, all in the name of giving Caleb stability. It had paid off, she thought. He had friends he’d known from kindergarten, a soccer team he traveled with, a normal, healthy childhood without the angst of moving every few years. Yes, she’d given her son so much stability, he thought it would be fine to take a train and track down his dad on his own.
In all fairness, Matt had never complained about the moves or changing schools growing up. Then again, he’d been raised in a prominent Army family and had likely been dialed in about West Point from the womb. Once, she too had planned on a Military career, maybe a husband and possibly, floating in that misty realm of far-off theories, a child someday.
Someday. Not at twenty. Not before she’d tested herself and traveled and become part of something astounding and important. Instead she found herself pregnant and bewildered. Matt had been almost thrilled, while she’d been fighting through sheer terror. Becoming a single mother had never crossed her mind.
He’d proposed, though they couldn’t marry while either of them were still cadets at the academy. As much as she loved him, she’d known she couldn’t marry him at all. She had to make her own way—for herself, as well as for her child. Following Matt through a career destined for greatness, always waiting at home for news, just felt too passive. She feared he would eventually feel trapped, or she would. And she didn’t want either of them to come to a point of resenting the other. That would have been a sorry end to what had started as a good friendship.
Hard as it had been, she’d walked away from Matt, away from her dreams, and into the role of motherhood and new challenges. With Caleb, she’d discovered every day could be astounding in tiny, personal, but no less important ways.
She was straightening her desk when the text message came through that they were leaving the city. Caleb’s giddy reaction to Matt’s classic muscle car came through loud and clear, along with half a dozen pictures of a gorgeous Chevy Camaro. It was a restored 1967 classic, according to the messages.
Great. As if she needed the man to be any more tempting to either her or her son. Their son. She had to start getting that verbiage right.
On her way home, she stopped at the grocery store for the final items to round out dinner. The big news they’d planned to share was out of the bag, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be difficult questions that may or may not have answers. Whatever Matt had already told Caleb, it seemed to have planted him firmly in the idol column.
With that thought, she turned down the aisle and added an extra bottle of wine to her cart. She’d open it later tonight to unwind after Caleb was in bed and Matt was out the door. There were yesterday’s cookies ready for dessert, but she added some ice cream to the cart anyway. She could surprise them both with ice-cream sandwiches.
It was bribery, plain and simple, and she was glad she’d thought of it.
When she reached the checkout lane, her cart loaded with too many extras, it looked as if she was hosting a party for a dozen people. Just covering all the bases, she thought pragmatically. She wasn’t planning on feeding her nerves at all.
This was their first dinner as a family, and it should be memorable for more than just the bombshell that they were a family. Would Matt wait until they were alone to say I told you so? Were he and Caleb already discussing how this situation was all her fault? She could hardly blame her son for reaching that conclusion without any help from Matt.
At home, in her kitchen, with the chicken and vegetables roasting in the oven, she poured a sparkling water instead of the wine she wanted and started on the ice cream sandwiches. Did Caleb hate her now that he knew she’d kept his father from him all this time? He surely felt betrayed, a fact which would make any further lessons on honesty and integrity harder for her to sell.
And she still hadn’t heard how he’d found out anything about Matt in the first place. Her queries via text message had been brushed aside with Matt’s reply that he’d explain it all in person. Oh, that didn’t make her nervous at all.
With dessert individually wrapped and back in the freezer, she stirred up dip for an appetizer tray and set it to chill. Caleb would want something to graze on as soon as he arrived and she assumed Matt would, too. She arranged slices of cheese and cut veggies on a platter and put it back into the refrigerator. When they pulled up, she’d set everything out and add crackers.
With that done, she walked through the dining room and family room, looking for anything out of place. Although she knew she was overthinking it, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want Matt to find any reason to criticize the house or her parenting. The house was clean and tidy, thanks to a chore list, ingrained habits and some creative nagging. At last, she turned toward the bedrooms, forcing herself to make sure the guest room was ready if Matt insisted on staying here.
Would he insist? She supposed he’d have to since she had no intention of inviting him to stay over.
She felt heat rising in her face at the idea of Matt sleeping under her roof, just down the hall from her bedroom. It had been years since she’d seen him in person and yet he was still the man she wanted most, the man she held up against all others. And he continued to star in her most erotic dreams. At least that was a secret she could take to her grave, privileged information that never had to be listed anywhere.
The sound of a burly engine in the street drew her toward the big front window in the dining room. A quick chill of uncertainty slid down her spine when the glossy black Camaro with silver rally stripes pulled into her driveway. She was startled to find herself blinking back tears as she watched father and son emerge from the car. Happy tears, she told herself. This would be a happy occasion.
Caleb, the backpack on his shoulder, was practically dragging Matt to the front door. Side by side, the resemblance was uncanny, all the way down to their stride. Caleb was lanky, more elbows and knees right now, but already she could see him growing into the charming version of Matt she’d met at West Point.
The years had been good to him. He looked as fit as ever in an untucked soft gray button-down shirt, dark khaki slacks and brown leather boat shoes, with a light jacket in his hand. No wonder she’d been unable to make room for another man in her life. No one else was Matt. The man she’d always loved. The man she still loved.
Foolish, she scolded, schooling her expression into something she hoped came across as stern. Her feelings for Matt were impossible and could wait to be examined over that bottle of wine. Caleb was her priority and he needed to know that, happy endings aside, his actions today were absolutely unacceptable.
Hearing another car on the street, she saw Matt turn his head. Following his gaze, she didn’t recognize the slow-moving car. The window behind the driver rolled down and the unmistakable barrel of a gun appeared in front of a shadowy figure in the back seat.
A scream lodged in her throat, she raced toward the front door. She heard Matt shout, prodding Caleb into a run as the rapid popping sounds of gunfire chased them. The door opened and Caleb tumbled inside, onto the slate foyer, with Matt practically on top of him. The stained-glass window at the top of her oak front door dissolved in a shower of colorful, glittering splinters.
“Get down!” Matt shouted. He slammed what remained of the door closed with his foot. “Move, move.” He urged them back, deeper into the house, closer to the protection of the dining room.
“Caleb!” Bethany dropped to the floor, checking him for injuries. “Are you hit?” What on earth was going on? This wasn’t a drive-by shooting sort of neighborhood. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” he promised.
The coppery tang of blood stung her nose and her hand came away sticky and smeared with blood. “You’ve been shot,” she insisted. “Where?” She reached for his clothing, searching for the wound.
Vaguely, as if she’d been packed in cotton, she heard Matt calling 911, relaying her address and the incident, including details of the car.
“Not me, Mom,” he insisted. “It’s Matt.” Caleb squirmed out of her reach, heedless of the glass scattered across the floor. “Gotta be.”
No. The world couldn’t be so cruel as to give her son his father and take him away again in the same day. She ignored the slivers of glass biting into her hands and knees as she followed. Matt had pulled himself to a seated position against the wall across from the door.
“How bad?” she asked, lifting away the jacket he’d pressed to his side.
“Grazed.” He sucked in a breath as she looked for herself. “Burns a little, that’s all.”
He wasn’t simply being stoic. High on his left side, his shirt was torn, the fabric scorched by the bullet and stained with his blood. “Not too bad,” she agreed. “Caleb, go get the first-aid kit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stay away from windows,” Matt called after him.
“You think they’ll come back around?”
He shrugged, winced. “Better to be safe...” His voice trailed off as his gaze locked with hers.
She didn’t need him to finish the familiar idiom. Silently, she vowed that whoever had fired a gun at their son would be the only party feeling sorry about this particular incident.
Caleb returned and knelt beside them, the first-aid kit in hand, along with clean dish towels. “Need a bowl of water?”
“That would help,” she said.
He nodded and scrambled off again.
“He’s great,” Matt said as she unbuttoned his shirt so she could get to the wound. “Amazing.” He reached out and stilled her hands. “You’re an incredible mom. It shows in him.” His golden-brown eyes glowed with gratitude and something more she didn’t want to consider just now.
“Thank you,” she murmured. It was hard to look at him when he stared at her that way, with something that went deeper than simple affection, compassion or pride. How could fifteen years have passed and yet that look still held such sway over her heart and her emotions?
She should say something more, but the apologies she owed him got tangled between her mind and her mouth and once more went unspoken.
“You look great,” he said.
She couldn’t handle more compliments right now. “You must have hit your head.” Flustered, she returned her attention to the wound.
Caleb rushed back, water sloshing over the sides of the bowl he carried. She didn’t care. Floors dried and she was far too grateful for the distraction. Carefully, she cut away his undershirt and he leaned back, bracing on his opposite arm to give her better access.
Her first impression of him outside held true. He was still in prime shape, his muscles heavier and his build a bit wider now than he’d been at twenty. An overall maturity, she reminded herself.
She washed the wound and Caleb handed her folded gauze pads that she pressed close to stem the bleeding. “Not sure stitches will help,” she said.
“They won’t,” he agreed, straining for a look. “Just tape it up.”
“Police are here.” Caleb tipped his head toward the dining room, where red and blue lights gave the room a strange strobe-light effect.
As he spoke, someone knocked on the busted front door. “Police department,” a man’s voice declared.
Caleb jumped up to answer, but Matt grabbed his arm, held him back. “Let me.”
With one hand holding the in-progress bandage to his ribs, he muttered a low curse as Bethany helped him stand up.
Another hard knock rattled the door in its frame. “Police!”
“Yeah, just a second,” Matt replied. “Go on back to the—”
“It’s my house,” Bethany interrupted. There was chivalry and then there was stupidity. He was hurt, not badly, but enough that it mattered. She angled in front of him.
“Beth,” he warned.
He’d been the only person in her life to call her that. And he hadn’t spoken the nickname that way since she refused his first proposal of marriage. Oh, how she missed this man.
“My house,” she repeated and opened the door to a uniformed officer, who was ready to pound on the barrier once more.
“Ma’am,” he said at once. “Officer Baker, Cherry Hill Police Department. Are you safe?”
“Yes, we are now. A car drove past and someone fired a gun at my son and his father.”
The officer was looking at the damaged door, the scattered bits of colored glass behind them. “Are you injured?” He dipped his chin toward her, the bloodstains on her hands and clothing. “An ambulance is on the way.”
“My son and I are fine. Nothing more than a few scrapes and splinters. This is from Caleb’s father. He was grazed by a bullet.”
“May I come in?”
She opened the door enough for him to see the full extent of the damage. He motioned for his partner to join him. Convinced he wasn’t a threat, she made a note of the names and badge numbers anyway, inviting him and his partner into the dining room. It was the closest seating option and, on some wobbly emotional level, it helped her to keep this chaos from spilling into the parts of the house she and Caleb enjoyed most.
She pulled the curtains closed over the window, her only capitulation to the fear rattling through her. The shooter was gone and the danger had passed, but the chills were just starting. As the three of them gave their statements, she didn’t hold out much hope that the driver and the gun-wielding passenger would be found.
All of them remembered the car as a dark, four-door sedan. Matt gave them the probable make, though none of them had caught even a glimpse of the license plate.
No, her security system didn’t have a camera facing the street. No, Caleb didn’t have friends with guns or friends in gangs. No, she hadn’t seen the car before. No one new had moved in recently. No, no, no. The questions only underscored the pervasive sense of helplessness in the air.
At the buzzing of the oven timer, she seized the opportunity and dashed away to take the Greek chicken out of the oven. Matt’s voice drifted after her as he answered more questions.
His voice had changed as well, deep and mellow. That solid, sturdy sound had always made her want to lean in close and accept the support he offered. One more reason she’d kept her distance since Caleb’s birth. Better to avoid temptation than risk her willpower snapping like a weak thread.
She’d always been weak where Matt was concerned.
“Mom?” Caleb wandered into the kitchen. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She smiled at him. “Just debating how best to keep this hot.” She covered the baking dish with two layers of aluminum foil and set it at the back of the stove top.
“Matt gave me the get-lost look,” Caleb whispered. “He wants us to stay in here.”
She bristled, as she’d done when he wanted to answer her door. Yet, he was the one injured and he’d had the best look at the car. He was also a major in the US Army. What he said would carry more weight with the authorities.

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