Protecting His Kidnapped Family - Leslie North Page 0,3

his head inside. “See you around. And last night was amazing, just so you know.”

“I know,” she said, laughing as he bolted down the hall and out of her apartment.

2

One year later…

Serena Carson jolted wide awake to an ear-splitting wail and the fading images of an avenging angel, stroking her like she belonged to him. Which was crazy. She didn’t belong to anyone now—well, except to her three-month-old daughter.

With a groan, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and rolled out of bed, padding barefoot over to the crib near the wall of the bedroom. “Hush now, baby girl. Momma’s here,” she crooned as she reached in to scoop up the hungry baby, then carried her to the rocking chair in the corner before hiking up her shirt so her daughter could latch on to her sore nipple.

Whenever she’d imagined having a family of her own someday, Serena had never thought it would happen like this. Not that she was complaining. She wasn’t. Whining wasn’t in her nature. Nope. She’d been raised by a strong, powerful woman to be a strong, powerful woman herself. It was the same way she intended to raise her daughter. And even though her adopted parents were dead now, Serena fully intended to carry out her duty, come hell or high water.

Or kidnapping.

Yeah, that last one still made her blood run cold. Seven months she’d been stuck in this place—first as a scared, pregnant hostage who’d feared for her life every day despite her luxurious surroundings, and now as a scared, single mother with an infant, still living in constant fear that today might be the day her life came to an end.

The baby sighed contentedly and sucked harder, making Serena bite back a wince. Gracie had Serena’s thick dark hair but had inherited her father’s eyes. She leaned back and sighed, adjusting Gracie on her chest. Figured her only one-night stand had ended with a lifetime of consequences, but there you go. Not that she regretted having her daughter. Not at all.

She just wished the circumstances were different.

In her mind, an image of her avenging angel rose once more, wearing the face of the man who’d changed her life forever. Serena started, earning a squeak from Gracie. Serena didn’t even know the guy’s last name. Only his first—Noah. The Navy SEAL. That was all she knew. Oh, and that he had the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen. The same as the angel in her dreams. The same as their daughter.

God, her hormones must still be out of whack. She wasn’t usually so sappy.

And she knew exactly why she kept dreaming about an angel with Noah’s face. Because of his tattoo. They’d met because of their ink, at the art gallery. He’d been checking out her ass from across the room while she’d gotten the crusader artwork across her hip. In truth, maybe she’d been checking him out too, even before he’d worked up the resolve to walk over and start making conversation. She’d spotted him clear on the other side of the gallery and hadn’t been able to look away.

Hard to ignore six-feet plus of solid, sculpted muscle and pure alpha-male swagger.

Wind made the shuttered windows creak and Serena slowly turned to stare at the slatted early-morning sunshine glowing across the hardwood floors of the grand villa where she was being kept. The villa was beautiful, she had to admit.

But even if it was in the lap of luxury, being a kidnap victim sucked.

Gracie finally fell asleep, mid-suckle, and Serena carefully dislodged the baby from her breast before smoothing her nightshirt down and carrying her daughter back to the crib for a nap. While the baby slept, she showered and changed, then returned to the bedroom to start her usual morning ritual of scribbling in her journal, then staring out the window until a maid arrived with her food. Then it was another long day of knitting and playing with Gracie and hoping to hell she found a way out of this place before those two thugs who were guarding her decided to come up here and finish her off for good. She tried not to think about their death threats often because they only made her anxiety worse, but sometimes there wasn’t anything else to think about.

Those days were the worst.

Even months after the kidnapping, Serena still berated herself on a daily basis for not being more careful, for not being able to fight off her attackers, for making the idiotic decision