Beverly Barton - Paladin's Woman

"She isn't. Dina hasn't murdered anyone."

Brett clipped the digital timer to the canvas belt, then attached the thin wiring to the fuse he'd fastened to the dab of putty-like substance he'd molded across the belt's metal buckles.

"I had to promise not to hurt you before Dina would agree to help me with the kidnapping attempt," Brett said. "I convinced her that all I wanted was to hold you for ransom. She knows how badly I need money. She's such a sentimental creature. She's really become quite fond of Rusty, you know."

Addy realized that she'd just been wired with a bomb of some sort. She knew very little about such things, but the evidence was there before her, an undeniable fact. Brett Windsor intended to blow her to kingdom come. A surge of pure fear-driven bile filled Addy's mouth. Turning sideways, she threw up, retching until her stomach emptied itself.

Brett took a linen handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Addy's mouth, then grabbed the cord that bound her and dragged her into the corner of the room.

"As soon as I set the timer, I'll have to leave to call your father and Romero and give them the sad news." Reaching down, he activated the digital timer. Silently the deadly device began ticking away the last minutes of Addy's life.

Outside a night owl hooted and a thousand katydids sang in unison.

Huddled on her knees, wearing nothing but a black teddy, Addy McConnell awaited her rescue. While time raced by quickly, she consoled herself with one thought. Nick Romero.

Nick would find her before the bomb exploded. He had to find her. He was her paladin, her champion. He would never allow anything to harm her.

She knew with a certainty born of her love for Nick and her hopes for the future that she couldn't die. Not now. Elizabeth Mallory had prophesied that Addy would give Nick children. Two little girls. She could picture Nick's daughters. The two perfect angels, one with her flame-red hair, the other with his midnight black. One with her green eyes, the other with his dark brown.

They would name the eldest, the green-eyed brunette, Maria, after Nick's grandmother. And the younger, the brown-eyed redhead, would be called Madeline, after her own mother.

While the digital timing device blinked away the minutes, Addy kept her sanity by planning her future with Nick, by thinking about Maria and Madeline and about what a proud papa Nick Romero would be.

Nick pulled into the weed- and grass-infested circular drive at Elm Hill. The first, tentative rays of sunshine peeked from behind the far horizon. The dawn of a new day was breaking. He prayed that Addy was still alive to greet the morning.

The old antebellum mansion stood as a regal, if somewhat decaying, reminder of a South that had ceased to exist years ago. Like a Southern belle long past her prime, the house sagged with the ravages of time and abandonment.

Nick felt in his pocket for the key Rusty had given him, but when he tried the door it swung open. His heart accelerated at the thought that someone had been there before him. Examining the lock more carefully, he found that it had been jimmied. Addy was here. He could feel her presence.

There had been no other car in the drive and he hadn't run into any traffic on the lonely stretch of road leading to the turn-off. If Addy's kidnapper was still here, he was on foot. Taking no chances, Nick pulled out his 9 mm. automatic. Damn his noisy cane! But if the kidnapper was inside, he would have already heard Nick's car when he arrived. Time was of the essence if a bomb was involved. He hadn't dared waste precious minutes parking farther away and walking. Making his way into the foyer, Nick waited a few seconds, allowing his vision to adjust to the shadowy darkness inside the mansion. He checked the parlor on the right side. Empty. He turned left. Then he saw her.

Damn! She was half naked, hog-tied and huddled in the corner of the room. Thank God, he'd found her still alive. He wouldn't allow himself to think about what her kidnapper might have done to her. Walking as fast as his slow stride would allow, he crossed the room.

Addy saw the dark figure approaching her. When she'd heard the car, she'd wondered if Brett had returned. Now she knew that Nick had come to rescue her.

"Nick!" she cried. "I knew you'd come."

Kneeling in front of her, he laid his gun and cane on the floor, then ran his hands over her face, cupping her chin in his palm. "Damn, Red, I've been out of my mind!"

He surveyed the situation quickly, able to see the canvas belt attached to her waist. Early morning sunlight illuminated the room with a hazy, topaz glow. Nick recognized the C4 plastic explosive immediately. God knew he'd seen enough of it in Nam. Although the stuff was deadly, even in tiny pieces, it was one of the most stable explosives around. So damned stable that he and his SEAL comrades had occasionally set it on fire and used it to cook their food. C-4 created an instant hot flame.

And the damned stuff was readily available on the black market, especially in a military town. And Huntsville was a military town. The right person could easily have done the wrong thing, using his position to confiscate C-4 and make himself a nice little profit.

Nick released the catch on his cane. The sharp stiletto blade popped out. With careful manipulation, he removed the knife and immediately began slicing away at the heavy canvas belt. "We've got to get this off."

"How much time do we have?" She stared at him, her gaze locking with his.

He glanced down at the digital timing device. Only minutes remained, but it would be more than enough time for him to cut through the belt, remove it from Addy's waist and get her out of the house. "Plenty of time, Red. Just sit still and I'll have this thing off you in a few minutes."

"Brett Windsor kidnapped me."

"Dammit, why didn't I follow my instincts?" Nick kept his eyes focused on his knife and his hands, on the task of cutting through the belt. He tried not to think about Windsor or what he would do to the man once he'd been caught.

"Brett's insane. He—he planned to kill Daddy, too. Once Daddy and Dina were married, Brett was going to kill Daddy and make it look like either a heart attack or a—a suicide."

Nick cursed the strength of the canvas. His sharp knife had cut through less than halfway. "As soon as I get you out of here, I'll call Ned Johnson. They'll pick up Windsor, and if he's not in jail by the time I get to him—" He heard the floorboards in the foyer creak. Someone else was inside the house. But he didn't dare waste time checking out the intruder's identity. With every beat of Addy's heart, the blinking red timer clicked off another second of her life.

"Nick, it's Brett. He's come back!" Addy cried.

Too late, Nick swung around. His gun lay beside him. Brett Windsor stood in the doorway, the morning sunlight silhouetting his muscular frame.

"Move away from Addy nice and slow," Brett said. "I have no problem with shooting both of you and then letting the bomb take care of the rest."

"Don't risk your life," Addy whispered to Nick, seeing him eye his gun lying a few inches from his knee. "I'd rather die than—"

"Don't talk nonsense," Nick said, his voice so low she barely heard him. "I don't have a life without you, Red."

"Stop whispering and get the hell away from her!" Brett walked into the parlor and pointed his gun directly at Nick's head.

Nick obeyed, standing slowly and walking away from Addy, limping badly without the aid of his cane. He hoped he could find a way to buy them a little time. "Pretty ingenious plan you worked out, Windsor. Get rid of Addy. Make it look like someone who wanted the NASP contract was the murderer, then once Dina married Rusty and became his primary beneficiary, see that he has a heart attack."