It had been several hours since Victoria's abduction, and the sheriff had just left the Barkleys after assuring them he and his men would find Victoria and bring her kidnappers to justice. The dead and injured, the grisly result of the night's melee, were being transported to town by deputies. The exhausted family had gathered in the library as Silas cleaned the drawing room.

"Why aren't we out there? Doing something?" Nick flung himself into an armchair.

"Easy, Nick." Eugene said in a soft voice. "It's the middle of the night. No one's going to be able to do anything until first light."

"Nick, you can't even stand up without getting dizzy," Anne said, gently. "You took a hard hit."

The dark-haired man lowered his head, cradling it in one hand. "Yeah, Yeah. I just feel so useless." He looked up at Jarrod, a questioning expression on his face. "You were just out there, again. You're sure you didn't see anything that would give us a clue? Something to tell us what this is all about?"

"Sorry, Nick. As Eugene said, we're going to have to wait until dawn for our answers. If they're any to be found."

Eugene studied Jarrod's face for a long moment. His youthful voice drifted across the room. "Do you have any idea what this is all about, Jarrod?"

"Not any more than you do. Why?"

Eugene shook his head. "Just something in your voice. Guess my hearing's playing tricks on me. Just seems strange after the attack on Audra - - "

Anne felt Jarrod's blue eyes sweep over her and she met his gaze.

"What's going on?" Nick's voice split the space between the two from Dark Watch. "Jarrod if you know something about this . . "

Anne felt as if a theatre spot light encircled Jarrod and her in its glow, pinning them down, paralyzing them by its glare.

"Mr. Jarrod?" Silas stepped into the room. "I found this under a chair in the drawing room as I was cleanin.' It has your name on it." The butler handed Jarrod an envelope, and left the room.

"Another note?" I knew it!" Nick exploded. "Damnit all, Jarrod. This can't be coincidence."

"Nick, that's enough!" Jarrod voice ignited the charged air like a flame tossed onto dry wood. He looked over to Anne, studying her for a long moment.

She could read his racing thoughts, catching their meaning as nimble fingers capture a firefly on a sultry summer night. Her composed voice answered his unspoken question. "We all have the right to know what's going on, here. Regardless of the consequences. There's simply no room for secrets. Read the note to us, my love."

His nod was slow, labored. As if the weight of the world rested upon his head. With deliberate hands, he unfolded the note, and read aloud:

"You ignored your only warning. We give you one more chance. To save your mother, you must sacrifice your Love. Send A.D. to us. She's to ride out alone. Tomorrow. Sunset. The San Joaquin mine shaft. West entrance. When we have her, we'll send your mother to you. Alive, if you keep out of this."

Anne felt the ominous stab of inevitability threaten her composed veneer, even as she heard Audra's panicked voice shrill, "'A. D.'? Who are they talking about?"

"Me. I'm `A. D'." Anne listened to the icy steadiness of her voice with detachment. Her professional instincts were aroused and taking control. She felt three pairs of shocked eyes riveted to her every move. She focused on the fourth pair of eyes. She saw her own thoughts reflected in the blue depths. She and Jarrod had been lulled into believing the threat from the Confederate conspirators was over; that the Barkleys were safe. They were wrong. The enemies of Dark Watch had struck again. "They want me."

"This is preposterous. How could you be involved in this, Anne?" Nick said, his hazel eyes narrowing as he stared at her. "My God," he breathed. "You are." He turned to Jarrod. "And so are you! I don't believe this!"

"Let them talk, Nick," said Eugene.

"First the attack on Audra. Now, this." Jarrod's grim voice arrested Nick's sputtering words. "Anne, it's time. We don't have a choice, any longer. They have to be told."

"I agree," answered Anne.

For long moments after Jarrod's last words faded, the room was still, a deathly quiet that froze the body and numbed the mind.

Nick dropped his head in a cupped hand. "All this time," he whispered. "You . . . and Father. Federal Spies during the war. Then, government agents." He straightened to look at Anne. "And you, too? Along with your entire family!" His painful gaze rested upon Jarrod, again. "How could you have kept this from us? All this time?" Anger washed over his harsh features. "We had a right to know we were in danger, Jarrod! This is your doing! Mother's blood is on your hands!"

Audra reached across the divan and touched Nick's shoulder. "Nick! You don't mean that. Jarrod would never allow us to be hurt if he could prevent it!" The questioning look she flashed her eldest brother belied her words. It knifed into Anne's heart; it was the look of one who suspected she'd been betrayed in the worst manner possible: by a loved one. Now, the young woman struggled with uncertainty. "Jarrod, Mother didn't . . . doesn't . .. know about you . . . and Father? Does she?"

"No."

Anne heard Jarrod's ragged breathing, saw him wrestle with his raw emotions. She said, "We felt we had this under control. After Baker's arrest, we had good reason to believe that the threat to your family was at an end. That we'd broken the Confederate ring."

"How could you have been sure of that?" came Eugene's quiet words.

"Dark Watch has . . . widespread resources," replied Anne. "We believed our intelligence was accurate. At least, as accurate as it can ever be in a volatile situation."

"Yeah, well it sure as hell wasn't very `accurate!' Was it?" Nick's caustic tones seared into Anne. "And now Mother's life is on the line. Why? Because they really want you? If you're their target, ride out of here! Go to them. And don't come back without our mother!"

"Brother Nick, I'd kill any other man who spoke to Anne in that manner." Jarrod's fury was lethal, dripping with warning and threat. "Let me make this clear to everyone; one more angry word directed to Anne and you will be sorry you spoke. She's not the enemy, here. Is that understood?"

Nick froze, staring at Jarrod with unbelieving eyes. "Who are you?" he breathed. "After all these years, I have no idea who I see before me." His angry eyes swung from Jarrod to Anne, and back to Jarrod. "You and I have fought our way out of barroom brawls. We've ridden side by side against rustlers. We even rode off to war together. And I look at you, now, and I don't know you. I've never seen you act like this. Earlier, before I was brained over the head, you'd shot a man down before I had a chance to react. The Jarrod I know would never have done that." He turned to Anne. "And you. I've never seen a woman do what you did, tonight. Never." He dropped his head in his hands, groaning. "My God, it must be true. You two really are agents. And you'll betray anyone and anything for an assignment. Even your own family."

"Stop it Nick," came Eugene's quiet voice from a far corner of the room. "Jarrod and Anne . . . and Father . . . risked their lives for the country. For all of us. We can't forget that. And we can't change what's happened. But we can save Mother. The important question is, how do we get Mother back?"

"I do what they say," said Anne's equally quiet voice. "I ride out to the mine shaft, tomorrow."

"Is it really you they want?" Audra asked.

She turned to the young woman. "In part." She exchanged rapid glances with Jarrod. "We've broken their organization. But, obviously we haven't completely destroyed them. I'm guessing that this is a payback. Directed at Jarrod and me. They're making the fight personal. They know we have no choice but to respond. We're not going to risk Victoria's life on a bluff. In short, they win this round."

"You can't go." Jarrod's bleak voice caused Anne to flinch. "They'll kill you after beating all the information they can get out of you. You know that."

"What about Mother?" Nick lashed out.

"She's not their target," snapped Jarrod. "She'll be safe as long as we don't play into their hands."

"You don't know that, Jarrod," said Anne. "I say again, we can't risk it."

"Oh God!" Nick dropped his head into his hands once again. "This is too much to take in!" He groaned and without looking up, said, "I'm sorry, Anne. Jarrod. I don't mean to be unfair, here. I just can't think straight any longer."

Audra's voice was tentative as she said, "Isn't there some other way to get Mother back, Jarrod? What if - - they hurt Anne?"

"Honey, we'll get Mother back without endangering Anne," said Jarrod.

"No!" Anne's fierce voice commanded the attention of everyone in the room. "Don't promise them something you can't deliver, Jarrod. We both know there is no other way than to follow the note's instructions. To the letter." She began to walk toward the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's been a brutal evening and I could use some rest. Tomorrow will be . . . a full day."

"Anne - " Jarrod cried.

She shook her head, not turning around. "Tomorrow."

He was only a few blocks past Nob House when a carriage entered the intersection ahead of him. Cursing, he reined Titus to a halt, barely avoiding a collision. As he collected the reins, a carriage window shade was thrown up and through the window opening appeared the head of one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

"Your Grace?" The voice was low, melodious.

Charles studied the lady, noting that she was older than she'd first appeared, tiny wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes betraying her years. But her skin was clear and firm, and even features were framed by a lustrous mane of blonde hair arranged in the latest style. Large green eyes studied him, clear and unblinking. Waiting.

"I am Charles Devereaux," he nodded. "And you?"

"Your Grace, there is little time. Could you accompany me, if you please? We have urgent business to discuss."

He smiled slightly, amazed at her even-handed assurance. She didn't appear to be the least nonplussed by her unconventional actions. And seemed to fully expect him to comply.

"My dear lady - - "

"It's a matter of life and death, Your Grace. Involving your sister," she snapped over her shoulder as she sat back in the carriage. He heard her muffled voice add, "and Jarrod Barkley."

Charles settled himself onto the plush cushions after tying Titus to the rear of the carriage. He nodded to the older woman, controlling his curiosity and impatience with tight discipline. "Ma'am. You've succeeded in capturing my attention. Now, if you would be so kind as to explain your troubling words."

She tapped the ceiling of the carriage twice, and the conveyance lurched forward. Noting Charles raised eyebrows, she said, "We're just going about the Park's perimeter. Don't be alarmed. I don't need Dark Watch down my throat."

"How do you know about Dark Watch?" Charles' deep voice conveyed his caution and cynicism.

"I will explain. First, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dinah Bedford. An old friend of Jarrod's."

"Dinah Bedford." The name was familiar to Charles.

She nodded, as if reading his thoughts. "Yes, you know of me. I owned Bedford House for many years."

Charles remembered the legendary establishment. For years, it had been the most elegant, refined brothel in San Francisco. Only a select clientele ever crossed its threshold. Soon after the war, the house closed its doors. Rumors circulated that the fetching Dinah had lost her heart to one man; a man with the financial means to allow her the luxury of leisure. With time on her hands, Dinah Bedford had struggled for acceptance in respectable San Francisco society. While never fully acknowledged by the elite, she had become one of the leading lights in San Francisco's cultural circles, known for her wit and sharp intelligence. She had become a force to be reckoned with, and was on a first-name basis with the powerful and the celebrated.

"Since the last days of the war, I've been a . . . special companion to Jarrod Barkley."

"Indeed?" So Charles' old friend was the reason Madame Bedford had forsaken her business. Just as the rumors had indicated, she had become mistress to one man. His thoughts flashed to Anne. Did she know about this woman in Jarrod's life?

"I can appreciate how odd this must be for you. I assure you, the role I've played in Jarrod's life has proven to be temporary. Now that Jarrod and Anne have renewed their love, I . . . well, my place in Jarrod's life has shifted, as well." She tilted her head and met Charles' eyes squarely, the pain of her loss flickering across her face. "I will always be his friend, Your Grace. But it has never been, nor is it now my intent to hurt or disrespect your celebrated sister by my association with Jarrod. Do you understand, sir?"

Charles nodded, his fascination with this aging, glittering beauty only increasing.

"I speak to you now as Jarrod's friend. And by extension, yours."

"Of course."

"Your Grace, I have a wide network of contacts. Men and women from all walks of life. You see, early in life, I learned that the key to power is information, and if one has the talent to listen well, one can learn many things."

"I assume you are an expert listener."

"You assume correctly. Late, last night I received an unexpected caller. One of my . . . less than savory associates. Someone I'd known long ago, when I was young and foolish. He darkened my door because he was troubled, Your Grace. Apparently, among my talents is an ability to soothe the haunted conscience. He was in need of this skill."

"Go on."

"It seems that he associates with a rather sordid league of men and women who are the sworn enemies of Dark Watch." She waved away the question on his lips. "I know of your organization through confidential sources. Jarrod has no idea I've even heard of it. Nor has he any reason to know, now." She adjusted her cashmere mantel around her shoulders and continued. "My caller was given orders by the leader of his ring - - a woman who is known to you. Julia Saxon."

Charles struggled to keep his shock from registering on his face. He merely nodded.

"Even though incarcerated, Miss Saxon is in full control of what's left of her organization." Dinah paused, a slight smile cross her face. "Appears that your Dark Watch has come close to decimating her nasty little group." The woman sobered. "She is an angry woman, Your Grace. Scorned in love and mourning the loss of her Cause. She is lashing out, sir. With nothing to lose, she's already set in motion her plan to destroy Jarrod through the deaths of his mother and the one true love of his life - - your sister."

"Get to the point," Charles said in a tight voice.

"Jarrod's mother was kidnapped last night, Your Grace. By Miss Saxon's men. They're demanding Anne in return for Mrs. Barkley's release. Although they claim otherwise, they plan to kill them both, Your Grace. Unless you get to them, first."

"Sweet Jesus." Charles grabbed for the door handle, only to be stopped by the steady pressure of Dinah's hand over his.

"Hear me out, Your Grace. There's important information to relay that will make the difference as to whether or not they're saved."

"Out with it, woman!"

"The Barkleys were given a note identifying the exchange point. Ms. Saxon assumes that Jarrod and his family will ignore her caution not to assist Anne, and will converge on that location. If they do, they will be riding into an ambush. Anne will be taken long before she reaches the spot. Long before any of her protectors who follow her at a discreet distance, will suspect it." Dinah pinned Charles with her sharp eyes. "They are very good, Your Grace. And Anne will be outnumbered. Don't believe even she will be able to fight her way out of the situation. In fact, if she dies in the struggle, so much the better for them."

"Go on."

"They'll take Anne to the spot where Mrs. Barkley is being held: an abandoned shack in the foothills. It's in the opposite direction from the exchange point. The plans calls for Anne and Mrs. Barkley to be killed, there, Your Grace. Unless you reach them in time. Before sunset, today."

"I'll wire Jarrod, immediately."

"No, sir. The lines between here and Stockton are monitored by Ms. Saxon's people. The only way you can save your sister and the Barkleys is to relay this information in person. And pray God you reach them in time!"

Anne grabbed at the rough wood of the paddock railing, focusing on the black stallion prancing before her in the noon sunlight. Always in the past, the sight of gorgeous horse flesh eased her troubled thoughts. Not this time. Flashes of the disturbing encounter she'd had with Jarrod that morning raced before her mind's eye, searing her heart with jagged emotions. He'd been so enraged, anguished. Struggling to listen with his normally calm, rational attention. Struggling to function with reason.

"I forbid you to leave here!" he'd thundered.

"Jarrod, you can't - - "

He'd continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "There has to be another way to get Mother back. We'll offer them money. Fools like that can always be bought."

"Not this time."

He'd turned to her with tortured eyes. "I can't lose you both."

"We'll save Victoria, Jarrod."

Bitterness flashed across his face. "Do you really think they'll allow her to live once they have you in their grasp?"

"We know they'll kill her if I don't go to them. Our best chance to save her is for me to do as they ask."

"Jesus, Anne. How am I supposed to let you go?" His fist pounded the library mantel. "This is all my fault. I should never have called off Chase and his men. As long as they patrolled the ranch perimeter, we had a chance at protection. What made me think the Confederate ring was really broken?"

"My God, Jarrod. You talk as if you operated alone. This was a Dark Watch operation, remember? Jonathan, Charles and I were as involved in making those decisions as were you. Don't you dare shoulder the burden of that responsibility alone. I won't let you."

"I promised her I'd do everything in my power to keep the family safe. I asked Mother to trust me to do that."

"And you did. Once we nabbed O'Doole and Baker, the organization fell apart. All indicators told us that. We make our decisions based on the best information we're given. That's all we can do. The rest is up to fate."

"So true." He took a deep, shaky breath. "I can't believe I'm allowing myself to slip into self-pity." He shook his head, using his hand to push off from the mantel. "I'm sorry, Anne. I didn't mean to rail against you of all people. But, the thought of losing you, again - - "

Anne attempted to smile. "I trust your reaction doesn't indicate a lack of confidence in my skills."

Jarrod captured one of her hands in his, kissing it gently. "Never, my love. My fear for your life is overriding all other knowledge. You're one of the best agents I've ever seen in the field, Anne." His clear blue eyes drilled into her. "If anyone can save Mother, it's you. I just don't want - " His words were cut off by her other hand brushing across his lips.

"Hush," she whispered. "And tell me how much you love me."

They'd kissed briefly and parted, their intense emotions too much for either of them to withstand. Later, they'd mapped out the operation. Anne learned the layout of the Barkley ranch and surrounding area like the back of her hand. She would take an obscure route to the mine shaft; one that only denizens of the San Joaquin Valley would know. Following her at a distance would be Jarrod and Dark Watch agents who worked for him. The other Barkley men would team up with additional agents, remaining in the background, and obeying Jarrod's orders to the letter.

Only Nick's fear for his mother's life had allowed him to agree to the plan. Accustomed to riding at the front of any operation on the ranch, the strong-willed man realized he was functioning within a sphere of action he'd never seen before. He'd finally acquiesced after an intense exchange with Jarrod.

Now, as Anne watched the Barkleys' horse cavorting through rays of sunlight, she reflected on the significance of the hostage situation confronting her. There was no way to plan ahead. She and the men would have to remain flexible, relying upon their training, experience, and instinct to stay alive and free Victoria.

"Aren't you scared?" came the shaky voice behind her. Anne turned to Audra and nodded. "Yes. I am."

"You don't seem to be." Audra joined her at the fence. "You're so . . . cool. Almost cold. I've been afraid to talk to you."

Anne reached over and covered the girl's hand with her own. "Don't ever think you can't talk to me, Audra. If I seem . . distant . . . it's because I'm . . . how do I put this? Preparing, I'd guess you'd say."

"Preparing?"

Anne nodded. "Focusing myself on the challenges ahead."

"But the fear . . . "

Anne's eyes left the young woman to follow the graceful movement of the prancing horse before her. "I've learned to channel the fear. Take the nervous energy and use it to my advantage. Like you harness the spirit of that magnificent animal."

"How did you learn to do that?"

Anne sighed. "Through experience. If you're placed in front of the barrel of a gun enough times, you learn to study the finger on the trigger, not the tubing in your face."

"You're not that much older than I am, Anne. Yet, I . . I can't imagine facing something like that."

"War doesn't give you many options, Audra."

"But how could you - - why did you - - "

"Get involved with Dark Watch?"

The younger woman nodded.

Anne smiled slightly. "I believed in their cause."

"But you're not even American."

"Yes, well I may have been born in England, but I've spent much of my life here. I love this country, Audra. It's youth, and brashness. It's naive belief in freedom and individual rights." Anne shrugged. "The war put all this at risk. I come from a family who's always been politically active. I grew up watching my father and brother work in public service endeavors. In both countries. When I was given an opportunity to take action to help defend this country's integrity, I seized it. It just seemed as natural as breathing to me."

"The cost was high, wasn't it?"

Anne turned in surprise, her sharp eyes studying the young woman for a long moment.

"Why do you say that?"

"Your eyes. There's sadness there. I only see light in them when you look at Jarrod. You and he - - you've been in love a long time, haven't you?"

Anne's smile returned. "That we have."

"Yet you haven't been together. Until now. Because of Dark Watch?"

Anne laughed softly. "Miss Barkley, is that astute perception of yours a family trait? It can be downright uncomfortable at times."

"I didn't mean to upset you. Especially - - "

" . . . especially now. It's all right. You can say it."

"I'm sorry, Anne. I didn't mean to sound so crass. It's just with Mother in danger, it's hard to know what to think."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Audra." "But, we've been unfair to you. Especially Nick. He always shoots off his mouth before he thinks. Underneath all those angry words, he's scared. Just like the rest of us."

"I understand his reaction, Audra. You've all received a brutal shock. Your mother's life in jeopardy . . . learning about a side to Jarrod you've never suspected was there - - it's a terrible shock. And even once your Mother's home safe and sound, it's still going to take you time to assimilate it all."

"You really think Mother will come back to us?" Audra whispered.

"I'll do everything I can to make certain it happens."

Audra flung her arms around Anne. "Please bring yourself back too! You're long overdue joining this family!"

"Coming, Nick." Eugene gave the leather strap a final tug and began guiding his pinto toward the barn door.

The Barkley brothers emerged from the barn to join the four men from Dark Watch who waited for them with barely-concealed impatience. Nick felt his irritation rise as he looked at them. Interlopers. That's what they were. Even if they were government agents who worked for Jarrod.

"Still can't believe this!" he muttered to Eugene as the brothers swung into their saddles. "If I weren't so worried about Mother, I'd really let Jarrod know what I think."

"You mean about his being an agent and all?" Eugene's eyes swept over the strapping strangers who controlled their spirited horses with little effort. "Who would think - - the peacemaker and diplomat, of all people?"

"Probably why he's so blasted good at it! No one'd suspect a sensible lawyer - - " Nick turned to the agents. "All right, boys. Let's ride." He saw the agents exchange surprised looks. Not accustomed to taking orders from civilians, obviously. Well, he'd give them some orders they couldn't ignore if given the chance. He took a deep breath, ordering himself to calm down. Mother's life was on the line. And Anne's, too, apparently. He'd do everything in his power to help bring the women back to the ranch, safe and sound. Even if it meant stifling his own bullheaded nature.

The group headed out of the stable yard, only to rein to a halt. A rider was approaching them at a fast clip, kicking up dust behind him. Squinting through the late afternoon sun, Nick thought the horseman seemed vaguely familiar. Nick urged his horse forward, ignoring the disapproving glare of the government agent next to him. He'd recognized the rider. And Charles' presence on the lane sent a chill through him.

"Nick! Has Anne left?" Charles' horse reared slightly at the sudden check on his bit. The English nobleman brought the horse under instant control.

"Yes, she's gone to the mine shaft. What do you know about it?"

Charles' sharp eyes raked over Eugene and the Dark Watch agents as they approached, nodding his recognition. "Apparently more than you do. It's a trap, Nick. You're all riding into an ambush."

"Jarrod and the others have already left."

"How long ago did they leave?"

"Half an hour. Maybe a bit less."

Charles' hawk eyes swept across the Barkleys' faces. "I take it Jarrod and Anne told you about our government work."

Nick inclined his head. "Given the circumstances, they had little choice."

"Of course." Charles turned in the saddle to address the Dark Watch agents. "Jefferies, you and Randolph have to stop Jarrod before he gets to that mine shaft. You'll join forces with him and his men. Shut down those who would have ambushed you. You know an abandoned line shack near here? That's where you'll go next. And where we'll be."

"Why there?" asked Nick. "The note said to go to the mine shaft - - "

Charles shook his head. "Forget the mine shaft, Nick. It's a ruse. Your mother is being held at the shack." He looked at the setting sun. "We're running out of time." He turned back to the pair of agents. "You need to move out now. At top speed, gentlemen. We'll see you at the shack." He looked at the youngest Barkley son. "You're Eugene? You'll ride with us."

"It's all right, Eugene," murmured Nick. "This is Anne's brother, Charles."

"I'm going to ask both of you to follow my orders, Nick," continued Charles. "We're talking life and death, here." Anne's brother nodded at the remaining two agents. "Mrs. Barkley is under heavy guard in that shack. But those who hold her captive are not expecting us. We're going to make the most of that element of surprise." He turned back to Nick. "Nick, old son, let's move out!"

"What about Anne?"

The Duke's face was an impassive mask. "We'll see her with your mother."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Anne'll do everything she can to save Mrs. Barkley. Whatever happens, my sister will get to the shack. And I want to be there when she does."

Anne forced herself to be calm, ignoring the sting of the encrusted blindfold as it dug into her eyelids, bit into her cheeks. Instead, she concentrated on the hint of slack in the leather strap wrapped around her wrists. Barely enough room to move her hands. But it was her only advantage in a dire situation. Automatically, she righted herself in the saddle after the horse she was riding, stumbled. Thank God she was a good rider. With no vision and her arms plastered against her back, her sense of balance was severely compromised.

Instinctively, she tried to estimate how long she'd been riding, which in turn, would tell her how far she and her armed escort had traveled. Twenty minutes at a steady, slow canter. At least three miles. She had felt the warmth from the setting sun on her back, so that meant they were headed east. All good information if she was ever given the opportunity to use it. Above all else, Anne was realistic, and she knew her chances of freeing Victoria and the both of them escaping, unscathed, were long.

They'd swept down upon her a few miles from the mine shaft, the three masked men in black. They'd been clumsy. She'd heard their approach. Ignoring their guns trained on her, she'd kept them busy, getting off some decent shots. She'd wounded two of them, intent upon taking at least one of them prisoner. Planned to interrogate him about Victoria. She'd even assumed there'd be a fourth gunman holding back, watching the action. She'd closed in on him, just as she'd been trained to do.

But, her training hadn't prepared her for the fourth man killing one of his own for the shock value. The cruel maneuver had worked. She'd paused in surprise just long enough for him to divest her of her gun. With his sidearm trained on her at close range, she'd had no choice but to surrender. Still, she was grateful he hadn't taken time to search her for additional weapons. He'd underestimated her. He'd regret that error in judgement.

The leather strapping was flexible, recently oiled. It slipped across her skin easily. Another reason for her to be grateful. Anne relaxed her muscles, willing her wrists to melt into the restraints, her fingers to ooze around the knotting. She focused on its complex configuration, visualizing its twists and turns, ordering her hands to hone in on the weak spot. Instinct guided her. Pressure . . . there. The leather shifted, stretched, relaxed its grip. Her hands would be liberated when she needed them.

She heard a male voice behind her, curse weakly as the horses ascended steep terrain.

"Peters, shut up and ride!" The voice came from Anne's right.

"Leave me alone." The voice was faint, shaky. "I'm lucky I'm still in the saddle after . . what the bitch . . . did to me."

"You gonna complain about that scratch?"

"Scratch, hell," Peters groaned. "She plugged my shoulder good. I don't think I'm going to make it. I'm . . . bleeding like a stuck pig."

"You only sound like a pig. Shut up or I'll finish you off like I did Custis."

Another groan preceded a dull thud - - the sound of a body making impact with the ground.

"Keep riding!" said the voice on the right. "Damn!" said the man riding on Anne's other side. "Justin, you just gonna leave him back there?

"Don't turn soft on me, Bill. He's no use to us hurt."

"You're a sick son of a bitch. You know that?"

"Damned proud of it. Now shut up! We ain't supposed to talk in front of her."

"Yeah, like she's gonna do anything to us, now. Gotta give her credit, though. She put up a better fight than most men I know woulda'. Didn't you, bitch?"

Anne felt her horse's bridle being jostled.

"Ain't talkin' to us? That'll change, soon enough. When you're beggin' us for that old woman's life, you'll talk plenty."

"Shut up, Bill!" snarled Justin. "We're almost, there. We don't need trouble from Harley because we broke the rules."

As she was pulled off the horse, Anne thought fleetingly of Jarrod and his men. Had they been close enough to see her abduction? She realized she could use their assistance as the blindfolds were ripped from her face and she squinted into the circle of men surrounding her.

Her eyes reached beyond the four men, searching for Victoria. A weathered, decaying shack crouched in the distance. A flash of movement in the doorway told Anne there was someone inside.

"So this is what all the trouble's out!" spat a raspy voice. Anne turned to see the circle break apart, and a white-haired man approach her through the opening. She looked him straight in the eyes - - he was her height. "You are a beauty, I'll give you that."

As the short man walked around her, inspecting her from head to toe, Anne clenched her fists, careful to keep the leather bounds in place. "Where's Mrs. Barkley?" she snapped.

The pain was sudden, sharp, as the man backhanded her. "Shut up! You'll speak only when given permission. Is that clear?"

Anne gritted her teeth against her rising anger. She scanned the group of men around her. Two were young. And nervous, vulnerable. The other two Anne recognized as members of her escort party. One was curious, eyeing her with a trace of admiration. She assumed he was Bill. The other fixed her in an angry stare. Justin. The one who'd killed the wounded man in front of her. The one who'd left Peters behind. She felt a chill ripple down her back. He would bear watching, as would the little man who now stood before her.

Harley studied her for a long moment, then hollered over his shoulder, "Terrell! Bring out Mrs. Barkley." He smiled coldly. "Might as well humor you. You're a dead woman, anyway." The older woman appeared in the shack doorway, accompanied by a tall, swarthy man. A malevolent grin was plastered across his face. In contrast, Victoria glowered into the waning light, fixing each man in turn with a furious glare.

"You see, Lady Whatever The Hell You Are," Harley said. "She's alive and well. For now." Anne met the older woman's eyes, seeing the confusion there. The fear flickering around the edges. But the woman was in control of herself. Far from intimidated.

"Victoria, are you all right?" she called out.

The older woman nodded. "Anne, do you know what this is all about?"

Anne heard Harley's cackle. "She doesn't know about you . . . does she, ANNE? By gum, she doesn't." Harley circled Anne. "She doesn't know you're a damned government agent. I bet she doesn't know about her son, either! Ain't that just rich?"

Victoria's eyes widened in surprise.

"Tell her, Lady Devereaux. Tell her that you and your boyfriend are nothing but dirty spies. How you two was supposed to round up all us bad guys and haul us in. This should be entertaining!" Harley grinned. "Why, I heard the President, himself, was behind it. Damned. I was impressed when I heard that. Go ahead, tell her about how the Confederates are alive and kicking, and the War's never ended. And there's nothing you and your boyfriend can do about it!"

Anne fixed him with a furious look.

"Go on!" Harley pressed his gun into Anne's cheek. "We could use some fun."

Anne beseeched Victoria with her eyes. Begging her forgiveness. She said slowly, "It is true. Jarrod and I work for the government. This is all part of an assignment we've been working on for a long time. We never intended for you and your family to get caught up in it." In an urgent voice, Anne added, "You're going to have to trust me."

"Now, that's enough of that!" Harley snarled. "You can just shut your trap, if you know what's good for you!"

Anne stared into Victoria's face, demanding and holding her attention for a long moment. Trust me, Anne said, silently. And follow my lead. Can you do that?

Yes, responded Victoria's eyes. I can do that.

"No sir," Harley continued, fingering his gun. "We can't have you two getting chummy. I might as well get this mess straightened out right here and now."

"You really going to kill these women?" Bill shifted from one boot to the other. "Seems a shame - - I mean, well, - - " He looked down at Harley, a silent plea in his eyes. "They're women, Harley!"

"You're too soft for your own good," Harley growled, pulling out his sidearm and turning toward Victoria.

Anne heard the gun cocking - - the sound deafened her with its ominous intention. "You know we're quite wealthy." As she'd intended, her words stopped Harley in his tracks. He swung around, raising his hand toward her face.

Anne stepped back, avoiding him, and added quickly, "Both Mrs. Barkley and myself. If you kill us, you'll be throwing away the opportunity for you and each of your men, to be rich for the rest of your lives." Anne gave each man a long, purposeful look.

"Hey, Harley!" said Bill. "Maybe we should listen to her."

Victoria called out. "That's right, Harley. You should. I'm certain Lady Devereaux and I could work out an arrangement that would make everyone happy."

"Don't listen to `em," growled Harley. His eyes were cold as he studied the men. "You know the consequences if we don't bring their bodies back to her. Ain't no place in this world you'll escape her. Bunch of money won't buy your life back."

Fleetingly, Anne wondered who Harley was referring to. Who was the `her'? She didn't have time to ponder the mystery as she watched the men shift nervously in response to Harley's words. He'd made his point and she'd failed to sway them.

She studied the surrounding trees, searching for movement. Jarrod and the others were not evident. She hadn't really expected them. They'd been too far behind her on the trail for them to know about the location switch. It was up to her, alone, to try to save Victoria and herself.

Harley had swung back to Victoria, gun poised and ready. Anne took a step toward him, appearing to stumble. Her movement caught his attention. She seemed to fight for balance, freeing her hands from the loosened leather straps as she did so. In one fluid movement, she pulled a pistol from its holster fastened around her calf, straightened, and shot Harley in his forehead. She fired again, hitting Bill in his midsection. A hand slashed across her wrist, forcing her to drop her pistol. As she wheeled around to see Justin grab at the air where she'd been standing, she saw Victoria club Terrell over the head with something blunt. And heavy. She saw the man fall. Her attention was drawn away as Justin bore down on her. She readied the remaining weapon in her arsenal. Her stiletto slashed across his face. He dropped to his knees, shrieking, cradling his head in his hands.

Ignoring his anguished cries Anne scanned the area. The pair of youths she'd noticed earlier were bending over the wounded men, scared and uncertain. She had no choice but to take a calculated risk and assume they were too inexperienced to be a real threat. She turned her back on them and hurried toward Victoria. "That's it. Let's get out of here."

"You ain't going anywhere!" screamed one of the boys. A shot careened past Anne, wide and to the right. She turned to see the youth lunging toward her with a gun in his hand.

"You're not going to shoot me," she said calmly, turning back to him. "You'd never shoot an innocent person. That's not right."

"What about what you just did? Don't that change things?" The false bravado in his voice wavered.

Anne smiled gently. "I was defending myself and my friend. Not killing someone in cold blood - - which is what you'd be doing if you shot me."

"I . . . I . . .don't know . . ."

"I'm going to trust you, now. My friend and I are going to walk out of here." Anne turned and started walking toward Victoria.

She heard the boy mutter, "I just don't know. I sure don't want to shoot women down."

Justin's anguished voice screamed, "Kill the bitches, you fool! You're the only one who can do it, now. We're all dead men if you let them get away."

"You'll be a dead man if you don't stand down," called out a familiar voice. "Look behind you, boy. It's all over." Jarrod stepped into the clearing. He was flanked by Charles, Nick, and Eugene. Behind the four men, the agents from Dark Watch fanned out, guns bristling, ready to fire.

Fear crept over the youth's face. He dropped his gun.

Anne took a deep breath of relief. "Well, I must say, you're timing - - " A flash of movement caught her eye and she followed it to where Justin lay curled on his side. She studied him for a long moment, watching the broken, bleeding man writhe in pain. Nothing threatening, there, yet instinct told her to keep an eye on him. She did so, even as she walked away from him. Which is why she saw the dying sun expose the glittering sliver of steel.

Metal snaked out from underneath Justin's quivering body. The gun barrel wobbled, then stabilized as it honed in, targeting its victim.

She heard herself scream "NO!!!!"

Air shrieked in her ears as she dove toward Victoria. The bullet slammed into flesh and bone.

The world went black.

The bullet crept into Anne's back and rested there. She moaned softly, slumped onto Victoria, and was still.

So damned still. Move, for God's sake! He screamed silently at the pale form lying in the bed before him. Get up! Tell me I'm worrying too much! Tell me I won't mourn your cold remains at an unforgiving grave site.

He felt the gentle hand on his shoulder, but ignored it. It pressed firmly into the wool of his coat, not to be dismissed.

"She'll get through this," Victoria said.

"Will she?" Jarrod sat on the bed, stroking Anne's hair. "Dr. Moran has no idea how many bone fragments are floating inside her. He only retrieved two. And she's lost so much blood - - "

When Jarrod had reached Anne, he'd eased her off his mother's body, cradling her in his arms. He remembered how her blood had drenched his hands, dripping through his fingers and onto the ground. The bullet had smashed into her shoulder blade. Thank God the bone had arrested its progress through her body. Otherwise, her lung might have been damaged. The surgery had taken place two days ago. It had been a success of sorts. The bullet had been removed. No infection had set in. But Anne had not regained consciousness. "She's a fighter, Jarrod. She'll come back to you." Victoria sat in a chair next to the bed.

"How many more battles is she going to have to fight, Mother? Do you have any idea what this woman has endured in her short life?"

"I can't even imagine. One day, perhaps she'll tell me."

"One day," Jarrod whispered. He felt his Mother's eyes bore into him. He didn't turn to look at her. "You want to know about it."

"Yes. I do."

He took a deep breath, stroking Anne's hand as he organized his thoughts. How would he tell his mother about Dark Watch? About his father, and the war? And Anne.

The silence was thick and heavy in the room when Jarrod finished speaking. Victoria rose abruptly and walked over to a window. Jarrod watch her stiff back gradually relax as the seconds clicked by. He was afraid he'd overwhelmed her with the truth. But, she had a right to know. To understand the reason behind the chaos into which she and her family had been thrown.

Later that evening, Jarrod poured Charles a brandy and sank into a chair by the library fireplace with a sigh. "Charles, old son, I think Anne has won another battle."

Over the next few days, Anne rapidly recovered her strength. She was sitting by the window in her room on a bright, sunny morning when she heard a familiar quick tap on her door. It swung open to reveal a giant bunch of wildflowers behind which stood Jarrod, grinning.