Anthology - A Colton Family Christmas p.03

TAKE NO PRISONERS

Linda Turner


Chapter 1

It was Christmas Eve, and D.C. was lit up like a Christmas tree. Icicle lights hung from eaves all over the city, and all across town, families and friends were gathering to celebrate. Everyone, that was, except Julianna Stevens. All decked out in a sparkly red dress and matching heels, she’d just finished dressing for a Christmas Eve party she’d been looking forward to for weeks when her beeper went off. Just that easily, her plans for the evening changed.

“That’s what you get for playing the good Samaritan and volunteering to be on call Christmas Eve,” she muttered as she zipped around DuPont Circle. But how could she have known she’d get a call? It was Christmas Eve, for heaven’s sake! Who needed the services of a criminal psychologist and hostage negotiator tonight?

Like it or not, she was about to find out.

Racing through Georgetown, she took a turn on what she liked to call Embassy Row because so many ambassadors lived there, and slammed on the brakes. Twenty yards ahead of her, the police had erected a roadblock, and from the blur of flashing lights that lit up the night sky, it looked like every squad car, fire truck and ambulance in D.C. had converged there. And if that wasn’t enough, camera crews from all the major network news stations had set up shop just beyond the police barrier. The place looked like a zoo.

It wasn’t the cameras or reporters or even the FBI agents, however, that drew her eye. In the whirl of lights and government personnel scrambling to deal with the situation, Julianna saw only one thing—the dozen or more men walking around with SWAT spelled out on the back of their winter parkas. In the blink of an eye, her heart stopped cold in her breast.

Irritated that her eyes had immediately zeroed in on those four letters, she told herself there was no reason to panic. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known the SWAT team would be on the scene—they always were in a hostage situation. That didn’t mean Kurt would be on duty tonight. In all likelihood, he was spending the evening with Suzanne and her family. For all she knew, they could be celebrating their engagement.

“They deserve each other,” she muttered, only to wince at the bitterness she heard in her voice. Why did she let him do this to her, damn it? She and Kurt Hoffman were history, kaput, divorced…and had been for three years. She hadn’t seen him since the day they walked out of the courthouse, their twenty-month-old marriage over before it had hardly begun, and that was just the way she wanted it. He could be married again, engaged to Suzanne Garner, his ex-girlfriend and the secretary at his precinct who had known more about his whereabouts than his wife, or involved with somebody else. Either way, Julianna didn’t care.

Confident she was well over him, she flashed her ID at the police officer who was manning the blockade of the street and quickly found a parking place once she was allowed inside the barricade. Now if she could just find the command center, she could go about the business of doing what she did best and use her training as a criminal psychologist to solve the hostage situation. Then she could forget Kurt Hoffman even existed.

But even as she made her way through the madhouse of different agency personnel who had responded to the emergency call for help at the Georgetown mansion down the street, she had a sinking feeling that her luck had run out where Kurt Hoffman was concerned. He was there somewhere in the crowd…she could feel him.

The thought had barely registered when the sea of policemen blocking her path suddenly parted, and there, fifty yards in front of her, was the man she had once sworn to love for the rest of her life. One look was all it took for her heart to turn over in her breast.

Dear Lord, he was a good-looking devil! He always had been. When they’d met six years ago, she’d taken one look at him and fallen like a ton of bricks. He’d only gotten better with age. At thirty-three, he was lean and muscular, and he’d cut his honey-brown hair short to discourage the curl. The passage of time had sculpted his chiseled face with a maturity that hadn’t been there in the past, and although he was no Cary Grant, he could certainly give Brad Pitt a run for his money. Especially with those green eyes of his. He only had to smile for his eyes to dance with a mischief that seemed to call to her very soul.

He glanced up then and those wicked green eyes met hers. For a moment, the past, all the angry words and hurt feelings vanished as if they had never been. She took a step toward him, then another, and suddenly, all she wanted to do was run into his arms.

Horrified, she froze. What in the world was wrong with her? This was Kurt, the man she’d given her heart to, the man who’d walked out on her without ever really giving their marriage a chance. Dear God, how he’d hurt her! And she wanted to run to him? Like hell! If she ran anywhere, it would be as far away from him as her legs would carry her.

Her heart slamming against her ribs, she hesitated, tempted. But even as her heart urged her to run for the hills, her head refused to let her turn tail like a coward. There were hostages in the mansion down the street, and they needed her help…and Kurt’s. Like it or not, they had to deal with each other.

Stiffening her spine, she reminded herself she was a professional. As a hostage negotiator, she had to work with anyone and everyone who could help get the hostages released. Kurt was just one of the crowd. Satisfied she had him put firmly in his place, she lifted her chin and headed straight for him. If he thought she was childish enough to avoid him, he could think again.



At Kurt’s side, a government bureaucrat worried about the delicacy of the situation and the possibility of an international incident developing if they weren’t careful, but Kurt couldn’t see anyone but Julianna. She was sure and confident and so damn beautiful, his heart slammed against his ribs just at the sight of her. Obviously on her way to a party when she’d gotten the call about the hostage situation, she wore an expensive black wool coat and red heels, and it didn’t take an Einstein to figure out that she wore a red dress under the coat. She’d always loved red. His mouth watered just at the thought of her curvaceous figure decked out in something tastefully low and red. He didn’t have to see it to know that whatever the dress looked like, she was a knockout in it.

Drinking in the sight of her ruby lips and the way her long brown hair caressed her back with every step, he wondered how he’d ever found the strength to let her go. There was a time when he loved her so fiercely that he couldn’t bear to be apart from her except when he was working. Then it had all fallen apart. He’d learned to live without her, but not having her in his life still hurt. After three years, he had to believe it always would.

Still, asking her for a divorce was the one thing he didn’t regret. It was the right thing to do. She was studying to get her Ph.D., and he was working double shifts at work. They had little time together, and more and more often, that was spent fighting. He took a lot of the blame for that. He’d been too damn possessive, wanting her with him every second that he had free, hating the time she took away from him for school. He realized now that his unreasonable need for closeness had led to the demise of their marriage, but unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to see that at the time. He’d just wanted her with him. That—and his job—had cost him everything.

Regret knotted in his gut. She’d worried about him every time he’d left the apartment. She’d hated the danger—he’d understood that, and sympathized. But as much as he’d loved her, he hadn’t been able to give up his work for her. Not that she asked him to, he silently acknowledged. She would have never done such a thing. But he knew how she worried. Fear ate at her every time he went to work, and nothing he could say reassured her. In the end, it just seemed better to end things before they lost all love and respect for each other.

His decision had been based solely on what he’d thought was best for her, but she’d hated him for it. From the moment their divorce was final, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him, and that was what hurt the most. He’d missed her, damn it!

He had, however, no intention of telling her that. He had his share of pride, just like any other man. She didn’t need to know that he still reached for her in the night…or that when the call had come in about the hostage situation, he’d hoped she’d be on call tonight. After all, it hadn’t seemed like too much to ask. It was Christmas Eve…and he still believed in Santa.

And with good reason, he thought, fighting a grin as she drew closer. She had her chin in the air, just like she always did when her back was up about something, and a glint in her eye that warned him not to mess with her. Oh, sweetheart, he thought, if you knew just how much I wanted to mess with you, you’d turn around and take that sweet little body of yours somewhere else.

But even as images flashed in his head of holding her again, kissing her until they were both out of their head with need, he knew there was, unfortunately, no time for romance with his ex. The extended family of former Senator Joe Colton was in the mansion down the street and being held hostage by God knew who. Nothing else mattered.

It was his job, as point person for the SWAT team, to help get them released. Standing beside the hostage negotiator and disseminating information and orders as the situation progressed was not a role he usually liked. He much preferred to be in the thick of the action. Tonight, however, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Julianna was going to have a fit, he thought, and just barely managed to hold back a grin. Other than making love to her, there was nothing he liked more than pushing her buttons. He felt sorry for the Coltons, but for him, Christmas Eve wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

“Julianna,” he said, greeting her with a nod. “Glad you could join us. I see you dressed for the occasion.”

She gave him a withering look and never knew how she delighted him. “I was going to a party,” she retorted curtly. “Who’s the point man? Dispatch didn’t give me the particulars.”

A slow grin curled the corners of his mouth. “You’re looking at him, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, right,” she sniffed. “And I’m Julia Roberts. Quit fooling around, Kurt. I’m serious.”

“And I’m not?”



Of course he wasn’t serious, she told herself. The powers that be knew she was his ex-wife, and there was no love lost between them. Considering that, no one in their right mind would expect them to work together.

But even as she tried to convince herself this was all just some kind of twisted joke, she saw the glint of humor shining in his green eyes, and her heart sank. Oh, God, he was serious! He’d always had an offbeat kind of humor—this was just the kind of perverse situation that he would find vastly entertaining.

Damn him, she wouldn’t do it! She wouldn’t work with him. She wouldn’t subject herself to this kind of…torture. There had to be someone else available tonight who could take her place. So what if it was Christmas Eve? This was an emergency!

But even as she racked her brain for someone she could call, she knew there wasn’t anyone. Earl Thompson, her immediate supervisor at the Bureau and the first in charge negotiator, was with his family in Aspen for the holidays. Like it or not, she was on her own, not only with the hostage-takers, but also with Kurt.

Panic seized her at the thought. No! She couldn’t do it! she thought wildly, only to stiffen when she saw Kurt was watching her with a wide grin. Then it hit her. He was expecting her to panic, to throw a fit, to storm off rather than work with him. She’d always been the more emotional one, the one who lost her temper first and usually acted like a two-year-old. And he was just waiting for that.

Well, not tonight, she promised herself grimly. He’d pushed her buttons for the last time. She’d grown up in the last three years, and she wasn’t about to let him or anyone else rattle her so easily ever again.

Holding on to her temper, however, wasn’t as easy as she’d have liked. She drew in a steadying breath, but it was several long moments before she could say coolly, “Dispatch said a wedding party and all the guests were being held hostage at a Chekagovian diplomat’s house. Do we have any reports of injuries? Who’s the diplomat? Have we been able to establish contact with him? What about the terrorists? Who are they? Are they talking yet?”



All business, she threw questions at him like darts, and Kurt had to give her credit. She was as cool as a cucumber—at least on the surface. But oh, those eyes of hers! They were beautiful and turbulent with emotions that reminded him too much of the passion they’d always shared. With no effort whatsoever, he found himself remembering the last time they’d made love.

Abruptly realizing where his thoughts had wandered, he swore silently. Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not going there—it’ll only get you into trouble. And trouble was the last thing he wanted with Julianna. He’d been there, done that, and in the end, it hadn’t been any fun. Only a fool would make the same mistake twice, and he liked to think he was smarter than that.

So he followed her example and deliberately focused on the matter at hand. “There’s some question as to who actually lives in the house,” he said in a tone as cool as her own. “The place was leased to the Chekagovian government, but Helmut Ritka, a Chekagovian diplomat who’s been living there with his daughter, apparently moved out at the end of October.”

“Who’s the new renter?” she said with a frown. “Or did the owner move back in? Who’s throwing the wedding?”

“We believe the groom is the nephew of former Senator Joe Colton. The entire Colton family appears to be there.”

Shocked, Julianna paled. “Including the senator?”

“Apparently so,” he said flatly. “We’re still trying to get the guest list, but so far, we’re not having much luck. We haven’t been able to locate the catering company that’s handling the reception. It’s Christmas Eve,” he said with a grimace. “The only businesses still open are convenience stores and the police department.”

“What about the hostage-takers? Who are they and what do they want?”

“Right now, they’re not talking, but we do know they’re a band of Chekagovian rebels. One of the hostages, Major Billy Colton, was able to give us that much before his cell phone went dead. Needless to say, we’re taking a close look at Helmut Ritka and his role in the Chekagovian government.”

“He has a daughter, doesn’t he? I seem to remember seeing her picture in the paper once—I believe she was attending a state dinner at the White House with her father.”

Already one step ahead of her, he nodded. “The FBI is already searching for her—as well as her father and his staff—but so far, we haven’t been able to locate them. Like I said, it’s Christmas Eve.”



He was nothing if not thorough, and like it or not, Julianna couldn’t help but be impressed. She’d worked with point men who were totally useless to her, and that only made her job more difficult. The more she knew when she actually spoke with the hostage-takers, the better chance she had of resolving the situation peacefully. With Kurt’s help, there was a good chance that Senator Joe Colton and his family would walk unharmed out of the mansion down the street.

She should have been grateful. She would have been—if he just hadn’t irritated her so easily. Damn it, why couldn’t someone else have been assigned to work with her?

Chapter 2

The FBI had evacuated a three-block area, then set up a command center down the street from the mansion and well out of range of any weapons the hostage-takers may have had. It was here that Kurt led Julianna. “You know Tom Foster, don’t you?” he told her with a nod toward the big, redheaded agent who was on a walkie-talkie, checking in with the other agents in the field. “I believe you two have worked together before.”

Surprised that he knew—had he been keeping tabs on her career?—Julianna shook the hand Tom held out to her and smiled. “Of course, I know Tom. We both got a call to the Washington Monument in the middle of a thunderstorm. Everything turned out okay, thank God, but for a while, we were afraid a park ranger was going to go postal on us. How are you, Tom? Any chance Santa’ll be good to us and let us all go home early?”

“It doesn’t look like it,” he said regretfully. “Whoever organized this knew what they were doing. In ten minutes flat, they had control of the mansion and had rounded up all the hostages’ cell phones—but not before Major Colton was able to report that a group of Chekagovian terrorists stormed the wedding reception.”

Julianna didn’t like the sound of that. Glancing at the phone she knew the FBI had set up with a direct link to the mansion, she asked, “Any word yet on what their agenda is?”

His expression somber, he shook his head. “Not yet, but it’s still early. Right now, they’re making us sweat.”

And they were doing a damn good job of it, Julianna thought privately. Tension—and tempers—was running high, and with good reason. Without a name to the terrorists who held the wedding guests at gunpoint, FBI agents, the D.C. police and SWAT team members had no leads to chase down, no clues as to who might be helping the hostage-takers on the outside. And that left not only the hostages, but everyone on the outside working for their release, wide-open to danger.

Tension eating at her own nerves, the one thing Julianna hated the most about her job was the waiting. Her natural instinct was to snatch up the phone and call the hostage-takers to negotiate a deal before anyone got hurt, but she’d learned the hard way that that only put her in a position of weakness when it came to negotiating. Hostage-takers always had a message they wanted to get out to the world. Sooner or later, they would call with their demands. The thought had hardly registered when the phone directly linked to the mansion suddenly rang. Everyone within hearing distance of it stiffened.

“I believe that’s your call,” Tom told her. “Good luck.”

Kurt didn’t say a word, but she saw the encouragement in his eyes, and for some reason, his confidence in her steadied her nerves as nothing else could. Later, she knew that was going to bother her, but for now, it was time to go to work. Drawing in a steadying breath, she reached for the phone.

“This is Julianna Stevens,” she said easily. “I’m working with the FBI to negotiate the release of the hostages. And you are…?”

Ignoring her question, a heavily accented male voice growled, “The hostages aren’t going anywhere until Helmut Ritka is handed over to us, along with a million dollars, a private plane with enough fuel to reach Chekagovia, and the music box. When you’re ready to comply with our demands, then we’ll talk.”

“What about the hostages? Are they…?” she began, but that was as far as she got. A split second later, the dial tone rang in her ears.

Far from discouraged, she glanced up to find Kurt and Tom watching her with matching frowns. “Well,” she said, “now we know what they want at least.” Reeling off the list of demands, she added with a frown, “And they want the music box.”

Surprised, Tom looked at her blankly. “What music box?”

She shrugged. “Beats me. He didn’t say. Obviously, that’s something we need to ask Helmut Ritka about.”

“Among other things,” he said grimly. “It sounds like Mr. Ritka’s made a few enemies back home.”

“What about Colton?” Kurt asked Julianna as Tom hurried to join his fellow agents and relay the latest information. “Do you think the commandoes know they’re holding a former U.S. senator?”

Her eyes somber, she couldn’t give him the reassurance she knew he wanted. “I don’t know. All he said was the hostages weren’t going anywhere until Ritka was turned over. If he knew he had Colton, surely he’d have demanded a trade right from the beginning.”

Kurt had to agree with her. “Then we need to find Ritka and make some kind of deal with these jerks before they realize just who they’ve got.”

On the surface, tracking down a foreign diplomat in the Washington, D.C. area shouldn’t have been that difficult. Thanks to the help of the utility company, they learned that Ritka had moved out of the mansion two months before, when he’d had the utilities turned off, but, strangely, there was no record of him having utilities turned on at a new residence anywhere in the area. “Someone in his embassy should know where he moved to or a number where he can be reached,” Kurt said. “Surely he keeps in touch with his own people.”

But when Kurt called the embassy himself from the bank of phones at the command center, a bored recorded voice said, “The Chekagovian Embassy is presently closed. We will reopen for business on Thursday. Merry Christmas.”

Swearing under his breath, he muttered, “Yeah, merry Christmas to you, too.”

“Let me guess,” Julianna said when he hung up the phone with a scowl. “The embassy’s closed for the holiday. So what about the staff? If they’re all from Chekagovia, doesn’t the State Department have a list of all employees and their addresses?”

“They should—but that doesn’t mean Ritka reported his change of address.”

“Even if he didn’t, check with his secretary. She’ll know where he is even when his family doesn’t.”

Even to her own ears, her words sounded bitter, but there was nothing Julianna could do about it. She was bitter. She and Kurt had only had one Christmas together during their marriage, and they’d spent it apart. Because of a secretary.

Suzanne. Pain unexpectedly squeezing her heart, Julianna didn’t want to even think about Kurt’s ex-girlfriend and all the trouble she’d caused them, but she was fighting a losing battle. It was Christmas and the memory of that time was like a thorn in her side. Every time she saw a Christmas tree or heard a Christmas song on the radio, it throbbed.

Two days before Christmas, she and Kurt had had a fight. It seemed like they’d always fought on his day off because he’d wanted her to spend every waking—and sleeping—moment with him, but on that particular day, the fight they’d had escalated into a nasty argument. He resented the fact that she chose to spend her time studying on the first day he’d had off in two weeks, and she was hurt that he never seemed to understand or care how important it was to her to get her Ph.D. His work was all that mattered, and when he got a day off, she was supposed to drop everything and be at his beck and call. She couldn’t do it anymore.

Words were exchanged, and they both said things they shouldn’t have. She was bitchy—she freely admitted it—and she regretted it almost immediately, but the damage was done. Furious, Kurt stormed out before she could take back her angry words. Hurt, ashamed of herself, she told herself he’d be back when he cooled off. Then she’d apologize.

But even though he didn’t have to work, he didn’t come home that night…or the next. She’d had a sinking feeling he’d done something stupid, and it was all her fault. She knew how to push his buttons just as he did hers—if she hadn’t let him goad her into snapping back, they might have been able to resolve the problem sensibly. But, no, she’d acted like a two-year-old, and so had he. And in the end, they’d both been hurt.

Still, she’d been willing to let bygones be bygones. It was Christmas Eve, and she’d wanted nothing more than to spend it with him. So she called the precinct to apologize, only to get Suzanne. Julianna’s stomach still knotted at the memory. She didn’t know how she’d done it, but Suzanne had always had a way of making her feel insecure. Maybe it was because she’d had an intimate relationship with Kurt before Julianna had even known him, or because the other woman had always seemed to know more about what was going on in her husband’s life than she had, but Julianna had wanted nothing to do with her. Unfortunately, she was the precinct secretary, and all calls for the SWAT team went through her.

As much as it galled her, Julianna had had no choice but to leave her message for Kurt with her. The conversation should have been mercifully short—she’d just wanted Kurt to call her when he got a chance. The words were hardly out of her mouth, however, when Suzanne sweetly informed her that Kurt had volunteered to work a double shift so that some of the guys with families could be with their kids. That was such a wonderful thing for him to do, she’d purred, and so understanding of Julianna. If Suzanne had been in Julianna’s shoes, she was sure she would have been quite upset at the idea of spending Christmas apart the first year of their marriage.

Numb, Julianna didn’t remember if she’d even responded to Suzanne’s comment. She’d just hung up. For hours afterward, she’d clung to the sure knowledge that she must have misunderstood. Regardless of how angry he was with her, he wouldn’t have volunteered to work Christmas. Not this Christmas. It was their first as husband and wife, and nothing was more important than the two of them being together. Regardless of what Suzanne said, he’d find a way to be with her, even if he had volunteered to work.

But Christmas Eve night came and went, and there was no sign of Kurt. That’s when she knew there was no mistake. Christmas Day was even worse. While all her friends were with their families, spending the holidays with people they loved, she was alone. And she didn’t even know where her husband was.

But Suzanne did. And Kurt never called.

To this day, that still hurt. Oh, they made up when he finally came home the day after Christmas, but they never spoke about the argument…or the fact that they spent Christmas apart. Julianna couldn’t bring herself to ask if he’d gotten the message she’d left for him—she didn’t want to know. Because as long as she didn’t know, she didn’t have to wonder if he knew she wanted to speak to him and just didn’t call or if Suzanne conveniently forgot to give him her message. And in the end, what did it matter? Either way, Suzanne still knew where he was when his wife didn’t.

And that hurt. Still.

Horrified, she reminded herself that whatever happened that Christmas was ancient history. She’d put the past…and Kurt…behind her. He no longer had the power to hurt her.

So why did she suddenly feel like crying?

Kurt watched the painful emotions flicker in her brown eyes and knew exactly what she was thinking. Don’t! he almost cried hoarsely. Don’t go there. You’re beating yourself up over nothing!

She’d always been so insecure where Suzanne was concerned, and he’d never understood why. She was the one he loved. She was the one he married, the one he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Suzanne was just…Suzanne. Yes, they’d dated at one time before he met Julianna, but that was years ago, and he’d never come close to feeling for her what he did for Julianna. Suzanne was just a friend, nothing more. And when she’d needed a job, he hadn’t thought twice about telling her there was an opening for a secretary at the precinct.

He’d have done the same thing for any friend, but when he’d casually told Julianna about it, she’d looked at him like she’d caught him in bed with the woman! Her eyes had held the same betrayal they held now, and then, as now, that had frustrated the hell out of him. He’d never once given her a reason not to trust him. Damn it, he’d loved her with all his heart! From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he knew she’d been the only one for him…but she hadn’t believed it—she hadn’t believed him. He’d thought there’d come a day when that wouldn’t hurt. He’d been wrong.

Chapter 3

Caught up in the painful silence of the past, surrounded by the controlled chaos of the command center, they didn’t see anyone but each other. Julianna would have sworn she couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of her heart and words of accusation that she’d decided long ago had to remain unspoken. Then, suddenly, she thought she caught the sound of a muffled hum that was totally at odds with the tension of the night.

Surprised, she lifted her head like a deer scenting something totally unexpected, and listened. “What’s that?”

A slow smile broke across Kurt’s handsome face. “If I’m not mistaken, the hostages are singing Christmas carols.”

Julianna couldn’t believe it, but there was no mistaking the sound of “Jingle Bells” on Christmas Eve. It floated on the cold night air like the promise of a single snowflake, lightening the spirits of the entire command center. All around them, stern FBI agents and D.C.’s finest broke into unexpected smiles. And for a little while, at least, it felt like Christmas.

Relief flooding her, Julianna didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. “They’re okay,” she said huskily, blinking back the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. “Thank God!”

“They’re a gutsy group,” Kurt said with a grin. “They can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but that’s the sweetest damn sound I’ve ever heard.”

She had to agree. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for them to be cut off from the rest of the world and held against their will at gunpoint by a bunch of crazed commandoes who could decide to shoot them all at any moment. They had to be terrified. Still, they’d found a way to communicate when all hope had to seem lost to them.

Given the chance, she could have listened to them all night. They might have been slightly off-key, and there was no question that they were practically yelling in order to be heard, but they made beautiful music together. Still, everyone at the command center knew that the hostage-takers wouldn’t appreciate their defiance. The repercussions could be deadly.



Standing at her side, listening as the merry refrain drifted down the cordoned-off street to the command center, Kurt came to the same conclusion. His smile fading, he swore softly. “They’re taking their life in their hands. We’ve got to get them out of there before someone gets hurt.”

As much as he would have liked to rush the mansion with guns blazing, however, he knew that would have only resulted in a bloodbath. For now, at least, the Chekagovian terrorists were calling the shots and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. “Where the hell is Ritka?” he growled, scowling. “Someone should have tracked him down by now.”

Tom Foster joined them then, a pleased smile lighting his freckled face. “We’ve got good news, folks. State just called. They were able to come up with the home phone number of the secretary and gave her a call. She’s calling Ritka even as we speak.”

“Thank God!” Julianna breathed. “Did she know where he is? Did she give us a number where we can reach him?”

“He’s spending the evening with friends in Alexandria,” he replied. “She promised she would call him immediately, so we should be hearing from him any minute now.”

“Why didn’t she just give you his number and let us call him?” Kurt asked with a frown. “We could have sent someone to pick him up.”

“Apparently, that’s what she was afraid of,” he said ruefully. “I assured her that Ritka wasn’t in any trouble and there was no need to protect him since he hadn’t done anything wrong, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She insisted on calling him herself, so I agreed to give her five minutes. If we haven’t heard from him by then, we’re not only picking her up, we’re going to turn Alexandria upside down looking for him. He’s got diplomatic plates on his car. He shouldn’t be that hard to find now that we have a general idea where he is.”

Five minutes came and went, and the phone never rang. Swearing, Tom said tersely, “I was afraid of this. I should have never tried to deal with the secretary over the phone. It looks like we’re going to have to pick her up, after all.”

Excusing himself, he’d hardly stepped away to discuss the latest developments with his co-workers when the phone the diplomat was supposed to call on rang. “Take it,” Kurt told Julianna. “You need to talk to him, anyway. I’ll get Tom.”



If Julianna had been the kind of insecure woman who was overly impressed with titles, she might have been flustered. But she wasn’t concerned with the Chekagovian diplomat’s position in life—only with what he knew about the terrorists that might get the hostages released.

So she introduced herself and said quietly, “Thank you for calling back so quickly, Mr. Ritka. Did your secretary explain what happened tonight at your former home in Georgetown?”

“Yes, she did,” he replied grimly. “Were there any casualties?”

“We don’t know at this point—the terrorists have refused to tell us anything until you turn yourself over to them. The man I spoke to also wanted a million dollars, a plane with enough fuel to reach Chekagovia and a music box. That one surprised me. It’s an odd request, don’t you think? Why would a bunch of terrorists want a music box?”

“They’re terrorists, Ms. Stevens,” he retorted. “Who knows what goes on in the heads of such people?”

“So you don’t own a music box?”

“No.”

His answer was short and firm, and Julianna had no choice but to accept it. She wasn’t, however, quite sure she believed him, though she couldn’t imagine why he would lie. Still puzzled, she switched gears. “What about the caller? He obviously has some issues with you. Do you have any idea who he is?”

“George Kartoff,” he said in disgust. “He goes by many names—Gustov, Gunther, Gerhardt—but it matters not. He is the devil! Anyone in Chekagovia will tell you the same. He’s the leader of a group called the Chekagovian Freedom Fighters. He and his followers claim they want to right decades of oppression and make my country a better place for all people, but they’re really just a bunch of thieving malcontents who have spent the last nineteen months trying to destroy Chekagovia. All they’re interested in is padding their own pockets, and they do that by terrorizing people into signing over their homes and businesses to them. Anyone who doesn’t cooperate turns up dead within a matter of weeks. There’s nothing they won’t do to get what they want.”

“So what do they hope to gain by taking over the mansion?” she asked. “They must know that the U.S. government isn’t going to hand over you—or a million dollars—to them, regardless of how many people they take hostage. They have to be after something else.”

“I don’t know,” he began, only to hesitate when another thought struck him. “My daughter?” he asked suddenly, sharply. “Have her whereabouts been accounted for? She said she was going to a party, but she may have dropped by the mansion first. She had to leave some things behind when we moved, and just yesterday, she mentioned that she wanted to go back for them. What if she was there when the CFF seized the place?”

Julianna could hear the panic escalating in his voice and quickly moved to reassure him. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Mr. Ritka. The Colton family was having a wedding reception there. Surely your daughter wouldn’t have tried to retrieve her things at such a time. And even if she had, I doubt that she would have been able to gain entrance without an invitation.”

“You don’t know my Eva, Miss Stevens,” he countered in a voice that was full of pride and worry. “She is a beautiful girl, and smart, as you Americans say, as a whip. She is headstrong, though, like her mother was, and when she makes up her mind to do something, there’s no stopping her. If she decided to go after her things tonight, then she was in the mansion when the CFF took it over.”

“If,” she stressed, “she went back for her things tonight. Just because you don’t know where she is doesn’t mean she’s at the mansion. You said yourself that she was going to a party. Are you sure she didn’t?”

“No,” he admitted.

“There you go, then,” she said easily. “Does she have a cell phone? Why don’t you call her?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that right now and call you back after I’ve spoken to her.”

He hung up, not giving her a chance to say a word, only to call back less than a minute later. “She doesn’t answer.”

There was no mistaking that he was worried, and Julianna couldn’t blame him. If Eva Ritka was as impulsive as her father claimed, then there was a very good possibility that she really was in the mansion. Considering how ruthless the CFF was, Julianna didn’t even want to think about what might happen to the diplomat’s daughter if her identity was discovered.

“I’m headed for Georgetown,” Helmut Ritka told her abruptly, making a decision. “There’s been some kind of accident—the traffic is crawling. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hung up, and when Julianna followed suit, she glanced up to find Kurt scowling down at her. He’d heard every word of her side of the conversation, and it was obvious he wasn’t at all pleased. “It might not be as bad as it sounds,” she began.

That was as far as she got. “The hell it isn’t,” he growled. “Ritka’s daughter’s in there, isn’t she? She went back for something she left behind, and now the hostage-takers have her. Damn it, what the hell is wrong with the woman? If she forgot something, why didn’t she just have the Coltons send it to her? I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded.”

“We don’t have any evidence yet that she’s actually in the mansion,” she reminded him, playing devil’s advocate. “She was invited to a party—”

“But her father thinks she’s there, and he knows her better than anyone. What did he say about the hostage-takers? Does he have any idea who they are?”

“Apparently, the country’s been terrorized by a group of thugs who call themselves the Chekagovian Freedom Fighters,” she replied. “Ritka seemed pretty certain that the contact I spoke to was the leader. His name’s George Kartoff, but he apparently goes by a number of aliases. If he’s as bad as he sounds, Eva Ritka better pray she doesn’t fall into his hands.”

Kurt swore softly. “It was bad enough when we thought we just had to worry about Senator Colton’s identity being discovered. Now Ritka’s daughter is added to the mix. I’m not even going to ask about who the rest of the guests are. Somebody better call the Kennedys, though, and make sure they’re in Hyannis Port. With the way things are going, one of them is probably the groom’s godparent.”

Her lips twitching, Julianna bit back a smile. “I think someone already checked that, but if you need Ted’s number, I’m sure Tom can get it for you.”



Worried about just what kind of trouble Eva Ritka could be in, Kurt started to snap back that all members of Congress had already been accounted for, only to see the twinkle dancing in her eyes. It had been a long time since she’d looked at him that way, and for just a moment, the need to reach for her was almost more than he could bear. How could he have forgotten what her teasing did to him?

“Kurt? Hello? Hey, what’d I say? Are you okay?”

No! he almost blurted out. He’d spent the last three years of his life without her, and he was mad as hell at himself and her for that. They’d loved each other more than any other couple he knew. How the devil had they ended up divorced?

If they’d been anywhere else but there, he would have demanded answers not only of her, but of himself. But there was no time for that…not when people’s lives were at stake. Reminding himself to focus on work, which was the only thing that had gotten him through the awful days and months after their divorce, he growled, “Nothing. Not a damn thing. Tom needs to know about Ritka’s daughter…and the CFF. I’d better go find him.” And without giving her a chance to say so much as a word, he stalked off.