LITMIR.BIZ

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himself. From the moment he’d shown up in Olivia’s office that morning, he’d blundered. Big-time. The drive from Atlanta to Savannah, plus worry for Olivia, had ratcheted up his impatience and sent his tact, never abundant under the best of circumstances, into a nosedive. That was no excuse, though.

      Something had caused Olivia to turn her back on his help.

      “You know I can’t leave you. Not like this. Tell me.”

      Her frown darkened into a scowl, the lines of it so hard that he thought her face would break. She squared her shoulders, as though she needed to shore up her resolve. Chin pulled in, she gave the impression of a queen looking down at her subject. The effect was mitigated by the quiver of her lips. “I told you. I’m fine. You can go back to Atlanta.”

      Sal had been trained in interpreting microexpressions, those unconscious gestures that revealed far more than words. His Delta unit had been assigned to Counter Terrorism for a stint.

      The CT boys knew their stuff when it came to ferreting out information from suspected terrorists. Once back in the States, he’d gone to work for S&J Security/Protection, named for its founders Shelley Rabb Judd and her brother Jake Rabb.

      Shelley, an ex–Secret Service agent, had shown Sal other tricks in detecting lies. Not much got by him.

      Olivia’s gaze kept sliding to her left, a telltale sign that she was lying. “You have to go. Please.”

      The plea in her voice caused him to frown. Gone was the calm of a moment ago. She sounded frantic. He was more certain than ever that something was going on, something that terrified her at least as much as last night’s attack.

      “What aren’t you telling me?”

      She shook her head from side to side, as though willing away whatever had scared her. “N-nothing.”

      Sal fitted his finger beneath her chin, raising it until her gaze was level with his. She held it for a moment before looking away. “You always were a poor liar.”

      “I’m not lying.”

      “No? Then why can’t you look me in the eye?”

      “Please, Sal.” Her voice hitched on a tiny sob. “You don’t understand.”

      He placed his hands on her shoulders. “What don’t I understand? Tell me, Livvie. I want to help.”

      “It’s Calvin. Someone took him.” Her shoulders trembled beneath his hands. “They said if I contact the police or the FBI, they’ll kill him.” She waited a beat. “And me, if I tell anyone.”

      Sal took a moment to absorb that. “I’m not police or FBI,” he pointed out at last. “What are you going to do?”

      She thrust out her chin. “I’ll find out what they want and deliver it.” The steel was back in her voice.

      Sal kept his face impassive, but his mind was churning through possibilities. None of them good. As capable and intelligent as she was, Olivia was no match for kidnappers. He wasn’t going anywhere, but first, he had to convince her that she needed him. “What if I promise to not interfere and to keep a low profile?”

      “I can’t risk it.”

      “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice because I’m not leaving.”

      “Then I guess you’re staying.” The begrudging tone told him that she didn’t want him there but was glad he was there anyway.

      A smile tugged at his lips. That was Olivia. Self-sufficient to a fault. Her mouth trembled, though, mute evidence that she wasn’t as confident as she pretended. If he hadn’t looked closely, he would have missed it.

      Olivia put a hand to her mouth, as though aware of the giveaway. He didn’t comment on it. She wouldn’t appreciate the observation.

      For a fraction of a moment, he wondered why he was trying so hard to convince her to let him help.

      Not for the first time, he wondered why he had been born with a conscience that was as much taskmaster as moral compass. He should walk away from Olivia and her problem, content in the knowledge that he’d tried to help. The few times he’d ever ignored his conscience, however, he’d lived to regret it.

      He had enough regrets to last several lifetimes.

      * * *

      One look at Sal and Olivia knew she’d have a fight on her hands to convince him that she could handle this on her own. The sharp angles of his face were cast in even harsher lines than usual.

      It was his warrior face, one she’d seen only once before but the memory was forever etched in her mind. Two men had tried to rob her and Sal as they’d left a restaurant one night. One of the men had pushed her to the ground, causing her to cry out.

      Sal had taken them down quickly and efficiently. When he’d turned to her, the ferocity in his eyes had sent her pulse into overdrive.

      “The police will be here in a minute,” she’d said to defuse the anger that radiated from him.

      “They wanted more than to rob us. If they had hurt you...”

      “I’m okay. Thanks to you.” The experience had made her determined to never again be so powerless and she’d started studying martial arts.

      He still wore the mantle of the soldier he’d been across his shoulders, telegraphing an innate desire to protect, to defend, to stand between danger and those weaker than himself. He was a good man, an honorable man, whose self-assurance and unshakable sense of justice defined him as much as the dark hair and skin that hinted at his Italian ancestry.

      Against her will, Olivia felt herself responding to his appeal. To him. That stunning realization unfolded in the space of one heartbeat and shocked her into stillness. With an effort, she did her best to ignore it.

      He looked the same as he had the last time she’d seen him, right down to the off-center dimple that punctuated his chin. She longed to smooth her finger in that shallow dent. Deliberately, she fisted her hands at her sides to keep from doing that very thing.

      She couldn’t deny the frisson of pleasure she’d experienced when he’d walked into her office that morning as the sky grew pink with dawn. Nor could she shake off the sweet memories that assailed her, memories she’d locked away for two long years.

      Olivia wanted to believe he was here because he cared about her, but she knew better. She pushed from her mind the unwelcome memory of how they’d parted, and concentrated on the present.

      She let her gaze take in the man who had once meant so much to her. At five feet and nine inches, she was hardly petite. Still, she had to look up at Sal, who stood a good five inches over six feet. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and legs that were as sturdy as telephone poles, not to mention a military bearing, gave him an imposing presence.

      No, there was nothing soft about Salvatore Santonni. With hard planes and abrupt angles, his face would never place him in the pretty-boy category. It had too much strength and stubborn resolve for such insipid looks and bore the lines and ruggedness that came from long hours exposed to the wind and the sun. His dark eyes missed nothing and portrayed a startling intensity.

      Arms folded across his wide chest, he broadened his stance as though preparing for resistance. He knew her too well and had already anticipated her response.

      But how else could she react? This was Calvin’s life they were talking about. She had to do what the kidnappers said. Exhaustion and hunger dragged at her, but it was the riot of emotions roiling through her that had turned her stomach inside out and her mind to mush.

      She wet her lips. “I can’t risk involving you,” she said at last, panic rising with each syllable. “The kidnappers will know.”

      “How will they know?”

      “I don’t know.” She all but shouted the words. “All I know is that I have to do what they said. If I

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