Paula Graves - Major Nanny

He turned in the doorway to get one last look at Zachary. The little boy had already lost interest in Harlan, taking his goodbye at face value, and was playing with a couple of toy horses on the coffee table.

But Charlotte Manning was watching him with shining eyes. He gave her a quick nod goodbye and left the house, trotting down the porch steps before he changed his mind and went back.

With each step he took up the path to the main house, he felt as if he was leaving behind the only life that would ever make him happy.

STACY STRAIGHTENED HER DRESS and took a deep breath before stepping out of the governor’s personal library onto the open gallery that circled the ballroom one story below. Guests had started arriving a few minutes ago, but she still had time to make a quick run down to the guesthouse to check on Zachary and Charlotte before the fundraiser went into full swing.

Unfortunately, the ground rules Harlan had set stated that any staffer leaving the main house had to check in with him first so he could alert the perimeter guards.

She found him only a few feet down the gallery, standing at the balcony that overlooked the main floor. The spacious ballroom was the one interior room that looked as if it belonged within the Italianate villa exterior of the Twin Harts ranch house. Oval-shaped, flanked by eight tall white columns supporting the open gallery on the second floor and decorated in neutral shades of white, cream, gold and peach, the ballroom looked like something out of an old movie.

About twenty early arrivals milled about the ballroom, chatting and enjoying the champagne and hors d’oeuvres several white-jacketed waiters offered on shiny silver trays.

Like the rest of the security agents, Harlan was dressed in a simple black tuxedo with a necktie in lieu of a more formal bow tie. He’d shaved since she’d spotted him on her way into the ranch house earlier that afternoon. In fact, he looked completely edible, and she didn’t know how she was going to get through the rest of the night without making a fool of herself.

He turned at her approach, his eyes darkening with a pure, feral hunger that seemed to match her own. “Stacy.”

She swallowed hard. “Just the man I was looking for.”

She saw a flicker of hope in his eyes and realized he thought she had sought him out for personal reasons.

She hadn’t, had she?

“I need clearance from you to leave the ranch house,” she said aloud. “I want to run down to check on Zachary and Charlotte before the party gets into full swing.”

“Why don’t I get one of the agents to walk you over there?” he asked, looking uneasy.

“It’s not necessary,” she said.

He lowered his voice. “The danger isn’t over yet, Stacy. Don’t let anything that went on between the two of us make you forget that.”

“I haven’t.” She softened her voice. “I appreciate your concern about me. And Zachary.”

He leaned closer. “When this party’s over, I want to talk to you. Can I come over tonight?”

Temptation burned low in her belly. But she forced herself to shake her head. “Not a good idea.”

“Then tomorrow. Let me come by tomorrow.”

“Harlan-” She could feel herself crumbling, and it scared her to death.

“Okay. I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re coming.”

She started to walk away, then turned to look at him, unable to cut herself off from him completely. “Maybe we could have coffee at Talk of the Town in a couple of days.”

That was noncommittal, wasn’t it? She could change her mind if she wanted to.

He smiled. “That sounds good. You have my number.”

She returned the smile tentatively and escaped downstairs, her cheeks burning. Greeting a few of the early arriving guests, she weaved her way to the side exit and stopped there for a moment, looking back at the second floor gallery.

Harlan still stood at the railing, watching her.

Her face burning, she headed outside into the cool night.

She knew Jeff Appleton was the agent guarding the checkpoint outside the guesthouse, since he’d asked Charlotte to watch Abby along with Zachary. But he wasn’t at his post when she reached the checkpoint.

Had he gone into the house to check on Abby? A breach of security protocol like that didn’t sound much like Jeff, but he was pretty crazy about his kid.

She’d left her keys back at the ranch house, locked in Lila’s office, so she knocked on the door and waited for Charlotte to answer.

But it wasn’t Charlotte Manning who opened the door.

It was Trevor Lewis.

“UNIT SEVEN TO UNIT ONE. We need backup!” Vince Russo’s voice barked in Harlan’s ear as he watched the governor readying herself to climb the shallow steps of the riser holding a delicate brass podium from which she’d speak in a minute or two.

“Unit Seven, what’s the situation?” He stepped back into an alcove, not wanting to raise alarm among the guests gathered on the ballroom floor.

“Black bloc action on the protest front. They’re overrunning the perimeter guards. We need at least three or four more bodies to get them back in line!”

Harlan radioed the other checkpoints that had multiple guards and peeled off three agents to head for the south gate, where the governor had provided a cordoned-off protest area.

He kept a close eye on the ballroom as he did so, not liking the timing of the sudden eruption from the protestors. He couldn’t pour all his attention and resources into quelling the protestors-they could be a decoy designed to draw his attention away from the governor.

He headed toward the governor. “Ma’am, we have a situation.” He told her what was happening. “I think we need to consider evacuating the guests from the ballroom.”

“Surely you’re overreacting-”

“Harlan!” A high-pitched, unmistakable voice rose over the murmur of the crowd, drawing Harlan’s attention away from the governor. He scanned the crowd for a face he knew couldn’t possibly be there.

But there he was, only a few yards away, looking tiny and rumpled in his pajamas with the yellow ponies galloping over a blue field. Zachary spotted Harlan and crossed the floor as fast as his slipper-clad feet would take him.

“Unit Two, Unit Six, cover Cowgirl,” Harlan said into the headset, referring to the governor, as he hurried to meet Zachary halfway. The fear in the boy’s eyes made his gut twist.

“You said to find you if Mommy needed you,” Zachary said, out of breath. “I ran all the way here to look for you.”

“Where’s your mama?”

“At home. You have to come.”

Three fast cracking noises split the air. Around them, people started screaming and running.

Gunfire.

Curling himself around Zachary to keep the child from being hit by gunfire or trampled by the crowd, Harlan located the governor’s position. Parker McKenna was blocking her body with his, while Nolan Law was covering Bart Bellows in his wheelchair as the agents hustled them both out the side exit, probably to the armored SUV parked outside for just such a contingency.

Relieved on one point, Harlan scanned the gallery above. The shots had come from that direction.

There. He saw movement behind one of the columns. A man dressed in all black, his face covered with a ski mask.

“All units, gunman on the second floor gallery, west section.” He picked Zachary up and carried him beneath the overhang created by the second floor walkway, below the gunman’s position. A doorway nearby led into the governor’s office. He dug the keys to the office from his pocket and took Zachary inside. “Zachary, listen-you know how important promises are, right?”

Zachary was crying, but he nodded.