of déjà vu gripped Nell even before he had entered the store and she had read Instant Delivery on the insignia over his shirt pocket. The anonymous letter she’d received in Louisville had also been hand delivered.
“I have a letter for Nell MacPherson. Is she still here?” He spoke in a loud voice, his gaze sweeping the room.
“I’m Nell MacPherson.”
The relief on his face was instantaneous. “Glad I didn’t miss you. I was supposed to get here half an hour ago. The traffic today is worse than usual. If you’ll just sign here.”
As she signed, Nell’s mind raced ahead. She hadn’t told anyone in her family about the first letter. They would have wanted her to come home to the castle immediately so they could protect her. Worse still, now that her two sisters were involved with agents from the CIA and the FBI, they would have sent someone to hover over her. And the number one person they would have in mind would be Reid Sutherland.
Nell intended to avoid that at all cost. She also intended to avert their expectation that she and Reid live happily ever after. Just because her two sisters would soon wed Reid’s two brothers didn’t mean she had to marry the last triplet. No way was she ready for that fairy-tale ending.
This whole year had been about demonstrating to them that she could take care of herself. She took a quick look at the envelope held out to her. It was one of those standard-letter-sized ones used for overnight deliveries. The only return address was for the Instant Delivery office. She accepted it and tucked it under her arm.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Piper asked as they moved out onto the street.
“It’s probably from my editor.”
“Why would she send something to the bookstore? She’d simply call you, right? I think you should open it.”
Curiosity and determination. Those were Piper’s most outstanding qualities, and they served her well in her career. She wouldn’t rest until she knew what was in the letter.
Nell pulled the tab. Inside was one page and the first four sentences matched the message in the first letter.
Your mission is to find the sapphire necklace that Eleanor Campbell stole from our family. Your sisters knew where to find the earrings. Now, it’s your turn. I’ll contact you and tell you how you can return the Stuart sapphires to their rightful owners.
Nell’s gaze dropped to the last sentence. It was new, and an icy sliver of fear shot up her spine.
If you choose again to ignore your mission, someone in your family will die.
* * *
“ONE FOR THE ROAD,” Lance Cabot said with a grin as he assumed the ancient fighting position, arms bent at the elbows and hands flexed.
Setting aside the file he was working on, Reid Sutherland stepped out from behind his desk and mirrored his adversary’s stance. For seconds they moved in a small circle like dancers, retaking each other’s measure.
“I can teach you the move,” Reid offered as he had countless times before. Growing up as the oldest of triplet boys, he’d taken up martial arts as soon as his mother had allowed it. And he’d created the move by using his brothers for practice.
“Where’s the fun in that? I think I’ve finally figured it out.”
Reid blocked the kick aimed at his groin. “Maybe not.”
They were evenly matched in height and weight, and Reid knew from experience that the baggy sweatshirt the man was wearing hid well-honed muscles. Reid was five years younger, so that gave him one advantage. And while four years at West Point and assignments in Bosnia and Iraq had kept his opponent fit, they hadn’t provided the training in hand-to-hand combat that the Secret Service required of its agents. Another advantage for Reid. Plus Cabot’s four-year stint in the United States Senate, not to mention a wife and two kids, could slow a man down.
A well-aimed foot grazed Reid’s hip bone, making it sing. He feinted to the right, but the move didn’t fool Cabot, and Reid had to dodge another kick. He blocked the next blow but felt it reverberate from his forearm to his shoulder. For two sweaty minutes, Cabot continued to attack, and Reid continued to defend himself.
Cabot had one major advantage. He was the vice president of the United States, and Reid’s job was to protect him. Therefore, Reid kept his moves defensive. His office was not designed for hand-to-hand combat, but over the past year, that had meant squat to the VP. Thank God.
Reid feinted, ducked low and for the first time completely avoided Cabot’s foot. The maneuver should have caused his opponent to stumble, but Lance Cabot merely shifted his weight and resumed his stance. “I like your moves.”
“Ditto,” Reid said as they continued their circular dance. He loved his job. Two things had drawn him to the Secret Service. First, the agency filled a need he’d had from an early age to protect those he cared about, and it allowed him to fulfill that need in a way that challenged him intellectually as well as physically.
Reid blocked a kick and danced to his right. Both of them liked a good fight, and neither wanted it to end yet. That was only one of the things that the two men shared. Like the VP, Reid knew what it was to balance family responsibility against that desire to push the envelope. He’d lived with it all of his life, and protecting the vice president had allowed him to push that envelope in ever new and exciting ways.
Keeping Cabot safe was first and foremost a mind game. It required the ability to foresee all possible scenarios in a given situation. Making sure that the VP could enjoy a Wednesday-night dinner with his wife in Georgetown posed almost as much of a challenge as his recent visit to the troops in Afghanistan. Plus the job offered the added bonus of protecting someone who was addicted to risk taking. Reid’s boss had handpicked him to head up Cabot’s Secret Service detail so that the VP’s daredevil streak could be indulged—safely.
To date, those indulgences had included race-car driving, rock climbing and most recently skydiving. For Reid, it was the job of his dreams. And he’d learned that indulging the VP’s danger addiction made him easier to manage when the threat might be all too real.
“We’ve been sparring like this for over a year. Are you ever going to show me your A game?” Cabot asked.
“Someday.” Reid gave the man points: he wasn’t even breathing heavily. “When it’s no longer my job to protect you from serious injury, I’ll be happy to oblige. Are you ever going to show me what you think my secret move is?”
“Soon,” Cabot promised.
Unfortunately the clock was ticking down. Last night Reid had officially gone on vacation. Jenna Stanwick, an up-and-coming agent he’d been personally training for the past month, was heading up the protection unit in his place. She would keep watch over the VP and his family for the next two weeks while they vacationed in Martha’s Vineyard. The Cabots were due to leave within the hour.
As if he too was aware that time was running out, Lance Cabot, quick as a cat, made his move, coming in low to grab Reid’s arm. Reid countered it by pivoting, before he snaked his other arm around Cabot’s neck and tossed him over his head. One of the chairs in front of his desk overturned and a paperweight clattered to the floor.
The door to the office shot open, and Jenna Stanwick strode into the room, gun drawn. With one sweeping glance she assessed the situation and reholstered her weapon. “Having fun, boys?”
“You didn’t see this,” Lance Cabot said as he got to his feet.
“See what?” Jenna asked.
Lance turned to Reid. “Maybe she will work out as your temporary replacement.”
Shooting Jenna a look of approval, Reid said, “She will. She has four brothers. Plus I taught her my secret move. She’ll teach it to you, if you want.”
“Not on your life.” But he studied Jenna with new interest. “How about if I practice on you,