He was going to make love to her until there was no doubt in her mind about his feelings for her. The future still held uncertainties, but there was one thing he was feeling more and more sure of-he wanted that future to include Faith…

“Hi, Shane.”

… and Lindy.

Shane’s fingers stilled on the keys, and he turned, his heart warming instantly at the sight of little Lindy standing beside the piano bench in her Care Bears pajamas. She had a choke hold on her doll with her right arm and was rubbing at her sleepy eyes with her other hand.

“What are you doing out of bed, honey?” he asked softly, not even trying to stop himself from reaching out to brush at the little girl’s tousled blond curls.

Without waiting for an invitation, Lindy scrambled up onto the padded bench and situated herself on Shane’s lap. “I had a bad dream about dinosaurs. Where’s my mama?”

“I don’t know.” He and Faith had gone their separate ways after dinner in a tacit agreement to cool off before they discussed the case further. “Isn’t she with Alaina and Jayne?”

Lindy shook her head, an earnest expression on her face as she stared up at him with her thumb inching toward her mouth. “Huh-uh.”

A sliver of fear skimmed his nerves, but Shane dismissed it. There was no danger. Faith wouldn’t have left the property, and the property was under surveillance.

“I want my mama ’cause I need a hug real bad,” Lindy said soberly. Her lower lip plumped out, and her brow furrowed with the threat of oncoming tears.

Letting go a little more of his reserve, Shane scooped her up in his arms and held her tight, deeply inhaling Lindy’s warm, powder-soft scent. “How about if I give you a good hug now, and then we’ll go together and find your mama?”

Lindy hooked one arm around his neck and squeezed for all she was worth. “Okie-dokie, but I still get a hug from Mama too.”

“Deal.”

Faith wasn’t in her office or her bedroom or his bedroom or the kitchen. Shane had to fight to keep the cold wave of fear from sweeping over him as he carried Lindy through the rambling old house. The place had twenty-seven rooms and four attics. Faith could be anywhere, putzing around with decorating details or hunting through old trunks left behind by long-dead residents. She liked to do that kind of thing when she was nervous or angry.

Maybe she had gone upstairs to search for that ridiculous ghost she believed so strongly in. His brain spewed out a dozen possible simple explanations for her disappearance, while the sixth sense he had relied on so many times over the years told him with ever-increasing volume that something was very wrong.

One thing was certain. When he found her, he was going to take her in his arms and not let go of her until morning. He kicked himself mentally for having been such a bastard about the case. He could understand her need to end it, to try to get back some control over her life. He could have shown her that understanding instead of snarling at her like a wounded lion. He would-just as soon as he found her.

They had been through a dozen rooms when Shane realized Lindy had fallen asleep in his arms. He gently tucked her into her bed, brushed a kiss to her cheek, and slipped back out into the hall, quietly closing the door behind him. When he turned, he was met by a grim-faced John Banks.

Immediately Shane’s pulse picked up a beat. “What is it?”

“We need to talk.”

They stepped into Faith’s office, and Banks closed the door.

“Matthews is dead,” he said in a tight voice.

The words set off an explosion of panic in Shane’s chest. He stared at his boss, praying to God he’d heard wrong. “What?”

“He’s dead. The caretaker found him. Timmons and Cerini are at the scene now. Where’s Faith?”

Dragging his hands back through his hair, Shane swore viciously. “I don’t know. I can’t find her.”

The silence that hung between the two men was as brittle as spun glass; the ringing of the telephone shattered it.

Swallowing down the knot in his throat, Shane grabbed up the receiver. “Callan.”

Everything inside him turned to ice at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line. It was cultured, sardonic, and deadly. “Shane, my old friend. Long time no see.”

“Strauss.”

Adam Strauss chuckled, a sound that managed to embody evil rather than humor. “And here I thought perhaps you had forgotten me.”

“Never.” Cradling the receiver between his shoulder and ear, Shane pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and checked the clip.

“That’s a comfort. I certainly haven’t forgotten about you, dear friend. In fact, I’m rather anxious to see you. As is Ms. Kincaid.”

Adam Strauss had Faith. In a terrible flash of insight Shane realized he had never truly known terror until this moment. Now it threatened to swallow him whole. Adam Strauss was a cold-blooded killer, a man without a soul, and he had Faith.

Questions about Faith’s status roared through his head, but Shane forced himself not to ask them. Showing an interest in her would only make her situation more tenuous… if it wasn’t too late already. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind he tried to concentrate on keeping the conversation going, all the while straining to catch background noises that could give him a clue as to where Strauss was.

“I heard you’d gone to Argentina.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Strauss said mockingly. “After everything we went through together, you didn’t really think I’d leave without saying good-bye, did you?”

“No,” Shane admitted. “I didn’t.”

“You and I have a little unfinished business to take care of, mon ami.”

“Where are you?”

The laughter that floated over the phone lines rang with rich amusement. “Nice try, Agent Callan, but I’d rather not have an army of your compadres descending on our little soiree. What we have to settle is between you and me.”

“Why the theatrics with the Kincaid woman, then?” he asked, fighting to keep emotion out of his voice. He holstered his pistol and wiped a sweating palm on the leg of his pants. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t she? Ah, well, you know me, Shane. I always have had a flare for the dramatic. Remember our foray into the theater district that time-”

“Can the bull, Strauss,” Shane cut him off. He wanted no reminders of his time inside the Silvanus operation. He’d come too close to the edge, too close to losing what it was that made him human rather than a cunning, vicious animal like Adam Strauss. Now he forced a sigh and a bored tone. “I’ve had a long day. Where do you want to meet?”

“Testy tonight, aren’t we?” Strauss taunted lazily, then turned businesslike. “I’ll give you ten minutes to drive to Anastasia, to the phone booth outside Dylan’s Bar and Bait Shop. I’ll call you there and give you further instructions.”

Shane swore at his nemesis in disgust. “You’ve seen too many Dirty Harry movies.”

“Don’t be insulting, Irish,” Strauss said on a laugh. “Oh, and need I remind you?” he added as an afterthought. “Come alone.”

Shane stared blindly at the stretch of road that was illuminated by nothing more than the headlights of the car. The night was as black as the heart of the killer he was on his way to meet.

The road dipped and curved, turned and cut back along the cliff edge. Frequent signs advised caution and a prudent speed limit. He ignored them. The sedan hugged the pavement, though its driver was operating on nothing more than reflexes and subconscious memory.

Strauss had Faith. It was Shane’s worst nightmare come true. Instead of protecting the woman he had grown to love, the woman who had offered him a future, the woman who had offered him her heart, he had put her life in grave danger. There was no question in his mind-Strauss was there because of him, to even the score. This had nothing to do with William Gerrard. It had nothing to do with defense contracts. It was vengeance.