The Cradle Will Fall Read online

  * * *

  CONFIDENTIAL MEMO

  Badge No. 1113: Grace McCall-Fox

  Rank: Sergeant

  Skill/Expertise: Cool-headed while working under cover, and possesses an innate (and useful) ability to charm.

  Reason Chosen for Assignment: Her serene, angelic appearance inspires trust in targeted suspects—but may also awaken the passion of her partner and ex-lover, the FBI special agent in charge of the case.

  Mark Santini—Federal Bureau of Investigation

  Rank: Special Agent

  Skill/Expertise: Top hunter in the Bureau’s Crimes Against Children Unit, a cause near to his heart.

  Reason Chosen for Assignment: Legendary for his captures of child abusers and killers, and for keeping himself closed to emotion. Will partnering with his old flame lead to a change of heart?

  * * *

  Dear Reader,

  Once again, we invite you to experience the romantic excitement that is the hallmark of Silhouette Intimate Moments. And what better way to begin than with Downright Dangerous, the newest of THE PROTECTORS, the must-read miniseries by Beverly Barton? Bad-boy-turned-bodyguard Rafe Devlin is a hero guaranteed to win heroine Elsa Leone’s heart—and yours.

  We have more miniseries excitement for you with Marie Ferrarella’s newest CAVANAUGH JUSTICE title, Dangerous Games, about a detective heroine joining forces with the hero to prove his younger brother’s innocence, and The Cradle Will Fall, Maggie Price’s newest LINE OF DUTY title, featuring ex-lovers brought back together to find a missing child. And that’s not all, of course. Reader favorite Jenna Mills returns with Crossfire, about a case of personal protection that’s very personal indeed. Nina Bruhns is back with a taste of Sweet Suspicion. This FBI agent hero doesn’t want to fall for the one witness who can make or break his case, but his heart just isn’t listening to his head. Finally, meet the Undercover Virgin who’s the heroine of Becky Barker’s newest novel. When a mission goes wrong and she’s on the run with the hero, she may stay under cover, but as for the rest…!

  Enjoy them all, and be sure to come back next month for six more of the best and most exciting romance novels around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Yours,

  Leslie J. Wainger

  Executive Editor

  The Cradle Will Fall

  MAGGIE PRICE

  Books by Maggie Price

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Prime Suspect #816

  The Man She Almost Married #838

  Most Wanted #948

  On Dangerous Ground #989

  Dangerous Liaisons #1043

  Special Report #1045

  “Midnight Seduction”

  Moment of Truth #1143

  *Sure Bet #1263

  *Hidden Agenda #1269

  *The Cradle Will Fall #1276

  Silhouette Books

  The Coltons

  Protecting Peggy

  MAGGIE PRICE

  turned to crime at the age of twenty-two. That’s when she went to work at the Oklahoma City Police Department. As a civilian crime analyst, she evaluated suspects methods of operation during the commission of robberies and sex crimes, and developed profiles on those suspects. During her tenure at OCPD, Maggie stood in lineups, snagged special assignments to homicide task forces, established procedures for evidence submittal, even posed as the wife of an undercover officer in the investigation of a fortune-teller.

  While at OCPD, Maggie stored up enough tales of intrigue, murder and mayhem to keep her at the keyboard for years. The first of those tales won the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award for Romantic Suspense.

  Maggie invites her readers to contact her at 5208 W. Reno, Suite 350, Oklahoma City, OK 73127-6317, or on the Web at http://members.aol.com/magprice.

  To white knights…

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 1

  At five minutes to five, Sergeant Grace McCall-Fox limped into the Oklahoma City PD’s Youth and Family Services squad room, feeling as old as her undercover disguise made her look. She had a jagged hole in her right support stocking, put there during the day’s last arrest when she used her knee to force an uncooperative juvie to kiss pavement while she cuffed him. One pocket on the tan wool coat she’d scored at a thrift store sale had gotten ripped in the struggle and small pebbles had somehow wedged into both toes of the prison-matron-looking lace-ups she’d borrowed from her grandmother’s closet. Her cheeks were chapped from the hours she’d spent trolling the frigid shopping mall parking lot; the gray streaks she’d sprayed on her raven-black hair had turned sticky the minute snow had begun falling. Her right arm ached from having been nearly jerked from its socket by several wannabe purse snatchers who thought they’d make easy prey of an elderly woman out doing her Christmas shopping.

  Instead of a fragile senior citizen, they’d encountered a slim, petite, thirty-year-old cop who’d dropped them on their collective butts in one smooth move.

  “McCall!”

  The booming voice pulled Grace’s gaze across the squad room to the tall, gray-haired man leaning out an office door.

  “Sir?”

  “I need to see you,” Lieutenant David Kelson said. “Now,” he added, before stepping back into his office.

  Grace dropped her vinyl decoy purse on her desk, pulled off her coat and gold wire-rims with nonprescription lenses. Thinking Kelson might want to review the plan on her current undercover op, she snagged the file, then wove her way around the scattering of city-issue metal desks, mostly vacant this late in the day.

  Through the wedge of the open door she saw that Kelson was now seated at his desk, his attention focused on the paper in his hand.

  Gripping the file, Grace smoothed a palm down the baggy gray dress she’d bought at the same time as her coat.

  “Sir?” she asked.

  Kelson glanced up. “Come in, McCall.” Like everyone, he used the shortened version of her hyphenated last name. “How’d things go today at the mall?”

  “The team took down four juvie purse snatchers and three auto burglars. We’re hoping to nab more tomorrow.”

  “That happens, it’ll be without you. The FBI has asked for your assistance on a case. Consider yourself on special assignment.”

  “Yes, sir.” She arched a brow. “What sort of assignment?”

  Kelson rose. “I’ll let the agent in charge brief you.” The drift of her lieutenant’s gaze across her shoulder gave her the first indication of another presence in the office. “I understand you two have worked together?”

  “I’m looking forward to teaming with you again, Grace.”

  She went utterly still at the sound of Mark Santini’s deep, rich voice coming from behind her. A voice from her past. A voice whose owner had continued to haunt her over the span of six years, even though she’d loved and married another man during that time.

  Spine stiff, she forced herself to turn. And felt everything slip out of focus when her gaze met familiar eyes so deeply brown it was impossible to see a boundary between pupil and iris.

  Oblivious that the earth had just tilted beneath her feet, Kelson retrieved his overcoat, then moved around the desk. “Sorry I can’t stick around, Agent Santini,” he said, offering Mark his hand. “Like I said, I’m due to meet my wife at a Christmas party.”<
br />
  “No problem. I had hoped to get here earlier, but cutting through red tape to get that court order held me up. I’ll brief Sergeant McCall on the case so she and I can hit the ground running in the morning.”

  “Use my office as long as you need.” The lieutenant turned to Grace. “Agent Santini has cleared your assignment through the chief’s office.” Kelson snagged the paper he’d been reading when she walked in, handed it to her. “Here’s a memo to you from the chief that makes your assignment official. Keep me updated.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tucking the paper into the file folder, Grace watched her boss cross the office and walk out, closing the door behind him. Wishing she was also on the other side of that barrier, she pulled in a breath and glanced back at Mark. A good head taller than herself, he looked down at her, his gaze slowly traveling the length of her—from gray-sprayed hair to prison-matron shoes—with a few layovers.

  “Elderly is an interesting look for you, Grace.”

  “It fools a lot of juvie purse snatchers,” she said, and struggled for additional words that wouldn’t come.

  Physically, Special Agent Mark Santini had changed some in six years. His hair, as thick and black as her own, was still combed straight back, but it was cut shorter now, and silver had begun to salt the temples. The planes and angles of his face were leaner, sharper, and circles under his eyes evidenced lost sleep, yet the man was still down-to-the-ground gorgeous. Always a consummate clotheshorse, his black silk suit was tailored and expensive. But the coat hung somewhat loose off his broad shoulders, and the pants were a little baggy, as though he’d lost weight. Instead of making him look gaunt, however, the effect created an approachable, relaxed appearance.

  Grace was anything but relaxed as she clenched the file folder against her breasts. Mark stood so close she could have reached out and touched him. Touched the man who’d swept into her life with a startling magnetism that soon had her considering giving up her cozy, settled world. And even though she hadn’t, he had remained a ghostly presence that had nearly destroyed her relationship with Ryan Fox.

  She had loved Ryan with all her heart. To the depths of her soul. Just the thought of the doubts he had suffered because of her reckless behavior over Mark had her heart shattering all over again.

  She did her best to shove away the quick, instinctive tug of resentment that accompanied the thought. What had happened years ago had been her doing, not Mark’s. He had no idea she’d gone temporarily insane and made the decision to toss away her lifelong dream and meld her life with his. No idea that the history they’d shared had shaken the foundation of her subsequent marriage.

  “How are you, Grace?” His voice was all business, devoid of emotion.

  “Fine,” she said, using the same impersonal tone. “And you?” Strange, she thought, that two people who had been such passionate lovers could transform into nothing more than polite acquaintances.

  “Busy. Eternally busy.” He studied her with calm observation, his expression unreadable. “I was sorry to hear about your husband’s death. I sent a card. I hope you got it.”

  “I did. Thank you.” She stood perfectly still, picturing the masses of flowers and mountains of cards that had filled their home after Ryan died in the line of duty.

  Deliberately she shifted to settle the file folder in a nearby visitor chair. She used the moment, a much-needed moment, while her back was to Mark to steady herself. She had no desire to revisit that time three years ago when she’d lost so much.

  Schooling her expression, she turned to face him. A whiff of the familiar spicy male tang of his aftershave reached her. A quick clutching in her belly came and went. Dammit, what man wore the same aftershave six years running?

  Lifting a hand to her throat, she settled her fingers against the point where her pulse hammered as if she’d just chased down a fleeing felon. Her body was simply reacting to a known stimulus, she told herself. Nothing more.

  Wanting to steer the subject away from herself, she said, “I don’t doubt you’re busy, considering all the positive publicity you’ve garnered for the Bureau the past couple of years. Clearing the Boston Baby case must have made you the star of the Crimes Against Children Unit.”

  He slid one hand into the pocket of his trousers. As always, he looked as though he could emerge from a mass murder crime scene with an incredibly relaxed air. “Several other CACU agents also had a hand in solving that case. I’m just the one they chose to put out front at the press conferences.”

  No kidding, Grace thought. She felt sure he’d been assigned the spot in the limelight on that case because he fit the profile of what the media thought an FBI Special Agent should look like: tall and athletic, with a coolly handsome face and dark hair. Perfectly groomed. Santini possessed the totally centered grace of a natural-born hunter, who looked dashing both on television and in print.

  And in person, she admitted grudgingly. His compelling looks had attracted her like iron filings to a magnet when she’d first laid eyes on him six years ago. Then Mark had worked at the Bureau’s Oklahoma City office. She’d just been promoted to detective and had been assigned to the same multi-agency task force as he. The respect they developed for each other’s professional abilities quickly broadened to friendship, and they became lovers, drawn together by a passion that Grace had often sensed seemed stronger than both of them.

  Soon after that, Mark snagged the transfer he’d coveted to the CACU, based at Quantico, Virginia. And then he was gone—a man with no roots, no ties, infinitely comfortable with his lone-wolf existence. How different her life with Ryan would have been if she’d stuck to her guns after declining Mark’s offer to move to Virginia with him.

  Now here was Santini, intending to work with her again. He’d do whatever job he’d come to do, then be gone. And never once look back. Like before.

  This time, though, experience had taught her the value of keeping her priorities straight.

  She gave her watch a meaningful look. “Mark, if you could give me a quick rundown on your case, I’d appreciate it. I have family business to take care of this evening that I can’t put off.”

  A look crossed his face, a quick shadow that disappeared in one hammer beat of her heart. “How is your family, Grace?”

  “Everyone’s fine.” She paused, wondering if his reaction was displeasure over her refusal to drop everything and give him more time tonight. “Josh, Nate and Bran have all received promotions over the past two years. Morgan and Carrie are on the force now. Engaged to OCPD cops.”

  His mouth curved. “Is there any member of the McCall clan who isn’t in law enforcement?”

  “Mom and Gran are the holdouts.”

  “They get points for marrying cops.”

  “Yes.” Even as her lover, Mark had shared next to nothing about his past, saying only that his childhood had been wretched. He had never spoken of his parents. As far as she knew, he had no other family so there was no point in asking about the Santini clan. Still, things might have changed. She glanced at his left hand, saw he wore no ring. “What about you?”

  He arched a dark brow. “I haven’t married a cop.”

  And because she couldn’t stop herself, she countered, “Brenda wasn’t a cop.”

  “Brenda.” He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to recall the blond, gorgeous, long-stemmed White House staffer Grace could still picture perfectly. “I haven’t married anyone. The job doesn’t allow much time for a personal life.”

  The job, Grace thought, that he was bound to the way he would never be bound to a woman. Mark had made no secret that as far as he was concerned, his priorities lay with whatever case he was working at the time. Always the case. Because of that mind-set, she was relatively sure he considered what had happened between them water under the bridge, but for her it had meant much more.

  Just then his pager chirped. He pulled it off his belt, checked the display, then pressed his fingers to his eyes.

  “Problem?” Grace asked.


  “A call about a child-abduction case I’m working in California,” he said, clipping the unit back on his belt. “My gut tells me it just turned into a homicide.”

  “If you’re working it, why aren’t you there?”

  “Because my boss called late last night to tell me the director wanted me here. I hopped a plane from California first thing this morning.” He lifted a shoulder. “You know how it is, Grace. In law enforcement, you do what you’re told. Go where you’re sent.”

  “That’s why I spent the day cruising a mall parking lot in granny garb,” she commented, then wrapped her arms around her waist. “So, why don’t you brief me on the case that prompted the director of the FBI to send you back to Oklahoma City? And why you went to my chief and specifically requested I work with you?”

  “The case is a political hot potato that involves a young woman’s death. Her father has a lot of power, and he’s throwing his weight around, so here I am.” Mark eased back the starched cuff of his shirt to check his watch. “Since I need to call California and you don’t have a lot of time right now, I’ll hold off briefing you until morning. There’s nothing we can do on the case tonight, anyway. As for your other question, I contacted OCPD because I learned long ago it smoothes things considerably to attach someone from local law enforcement to any investigation I work. The reason I requested you is simple. I need a local cop who’s not only good but smart. Someone I can trust not to muck up a sensitive case.”

  “Nice to know you have such faith in my abilities.”

  “I’ve always had faith in you, Grace. Personally and professionally.”

  Since he had never opened up enough to tell her how he felt about her, that was news.

  “We have a subpoena to serve at eight in the morning,” he added. “We need to get together earlier so I can bring you up to speed. You can meet me at my hotel at seven, or I’ll come by your place and pick you up. Your choice.”