Prologue

Cold. Dark. Imprisoned. Rotting stench. Screaming pain.

How long have I been here?

Her body aches. Her spirit is numb from conditions no human could long endure. Some part of her fading existence registers a gnawing sensation and terrifying sounds at her cheek. Scurrying activity of rodents surrounds her. Weakly protesting, her raised hand attempts to brush off the repulsive offender. Slicing pain rips raggedly through every nerve, shutting down all physical responses more effectively than an electrical overload. From a long distance in a far away place, the advancing sound of rats and the night eyes of slithering creatures assaults her ever-deadening senses.

She closes her eyes and concentrates on the faces eerily wafting behind her eyelids. A tall man; sun-darkened, thick black hair raked through with hands tender and familiar. Warmth. Passion. Blue eyes gaze upon her with love and grief and determination. Hers. Rhys. Two children: the same but different. A fair-skinned girl; waist-length dark brown hair and expressive brown eyes. "Mommy." Hers. Sierra. A dark-skinned, dark-haired boy. Mischievous. Adventurous. He whispers excitedly, "Mommy." Hers. Jon. Now a gruff man. Loyal. Faithful. Friend. DEA. Gabe. "You must tell him. Don't leave like this." "All right then, it's your way."

Dry bile claws up her throat. Nausea saturates her near-numb senses. She concentrates on the faces in her mind. A toddler. Her heart squeezes. Her breath catches. Her breasts ache with echoes of nourishment. A toddler. An olive-skinned miniature Rhys. Tristan Alaric. "Wolf." Soft baby breath. Pudgy baby hugs. The anchoring images fade.

No. Don't go. How long have I been here?

Screaming pain. Rotting stench. Imprisoned. Dark. Cold.

Chapter 1.

Wetmore, Colorado

"Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?" Sierra asked, her voice quivering with unshed tears.

"Soon, Baby," Rhys replied as he prayed his very smart daughter would leave it at that.

"But it has been nine days and you said she would be back in one week. That's seven days. She's late!"

Of course she wouldn't leave it at that.

Now Jonathan Reese intently looked at him for a response. Rhys resettled Wolf on his lap as he snuggled close in his soft fleece jumper. Next, he embraced Sierra dressed in her pony-print nightgown as she cuddled next to him on one side and he placed a kiss between Jon's accusingly staring eyes-he really was the very image of his mother.

"Okay, gang, here's the deal. We are going to finish reading about the fun of eating green eggs and ham. Then, we are going to read Mommy's last note to us. Then you three are going to bed. The sooner you do, the sooner Mommy just may come home from work with Uncle Gabe tomorrow. Jon, it's your turn to read a page."

Thankfully, the children were falling in with his plan. As eight year-old Jon read about resistance to change in the world of Dr Seuss, his twin, Sierra, followed along ready to dispute any incorrectly pronounced word. Three year-old Tristan Alaric, known as "Wolf", was sound asleep.

Where is she? "She" was Skye, his wife of nine years and a Drug Enforcement Administration consultant. Prior to their marriage, she had been an acclaimed DEA undercover agent. In fact, they had met when she was his undercover bodyguard during a DEA operation in Colorado, Peru, and Ecuador. Of course, given her numerous facades and disguises, he hadn't known who she was until well into the most dangerous phase of the operation which included their pseudo marriage, a drug cartel, and an abundance of murderous intents. She had been willing to risk her life for his during the fury of an assassin, but he had thwarted her plans and earned a bullet wound for his trouble.

With a bit of deft computer wizardry, their pseudo marriage had become very real and she had traded her active fieldwork for the position of an "as needed" consultant upon learning of her first pregnancy.

Up until last week, their nine years of marriage was characterized primarily by her prioritizing their marriage and children at their home in Greenwood, Mississippi. Her other activities included limited involvement with the DEA, her part-time professorships at the local colleges, and overseeing her local air charter business, Skyeborne.

This all changed last week while he'd been in the middle of a monthly board meeting of his company, Genoreach Technologies, dedicated to research and development of bioinformatic technologies--the mating of biology and information systems--and philanthropic endeavors. The corporate atmosphere of the room was heightened with activity as dark-suited directors and department heads conducted business around the long rectangular cherry wood conference table in the midst of hovering media. There had been journalists present as Genoreach had successfully demonstrated communication with a comatose patient via information systems. The subject of donating two hundred computers to impoverished public schools in the Appalachians and the Mississippi Delta was underway when Gwen, his auburn-haired slim suited secretary, slipped him a note and crisply informed him that Skye was waiting in his office and urgently needed to speak with him. As his extremely competent wife had never visited him in a crisis, his blue eyes widened in surprise and he anxiously raked his hand through the raven thickness of his shoulder length hair. He stood and subconsciously smoothed his tailor-made dark blue suit and burgundy blue paisley tie as he quickly excused himself after placing the reins of the meeting into those of a department head.

He'd distractedly complimented and assured the corporate sponsors and media as he steadfastly moved through the pressing crowds toward the door.

"Mr Wielde, are there any more micro-computer developments for eliminating paralysis?"

"Mr Wielde, where are you in your claims to eradicate epilepsy?"

The questions continued as he flashed his most gracious smile while never slacking his pace. Now a hand found his in adulation, then a friendly touch at his back in an attempt to gain his attention. Rebecca, a tall red-hair woman with a flawless porcelain complexion stepped in his path. She was dressed in an emerald green power suit that hugged her curvaceous figure and revealed toned shapely legs that stopped toe to toe with the head of Genoreach Technologies. She winked at him familiarly and Rhys groaned inwardly at her presumption of their past intimacy which had been dead for almost 15 years.

"Rhys, is there any truth to the rumors of a merger with Guver Medical? You and I have talked often and. . .intimately. . .about your low opinion of many medical professionals."

Rhys wouldn't let that pass. "Rebecca, my wife has helped me to improve that opinion considerably. You wouldn't know that as I haven't spoken with you outside of a press conference in more than fourteen years." He gave her a dismissing look as he moved past her. She shot him a vicious glare to the muffled laughter of her colleagues. Finally he was out the door and moving through the open cubicles and offices as he greeted his staff and employees along the way.

He entered the massive glass doors into his office suite and noted his secretary hadn't returned. Her two administrative assistants were busily collating copies and fielding calls in preparation for an upcoming Bioinformatics Summit in New York the following week.

"Please hold my calls, Sara," he said to the middle-aged Korean woman as she ended one call and prepared to receive another. He caught her wink just as he entered the heavy wooden doors of his office.

He found his beautiful wife standing behind his oak desk bathed in the South's winter sunshine spilling through the wall-length window behind her. She was of Spanish and African-American heritage, dressed in a short black leather jacket, white turtleneck shirt, light blue jeans and black heeled boots. Soft raven curls surrounded the golden skin of her face and fell about her shoulders. She looked at least a decade younger than her forty-three years; however, a consummate actress, she could convincingly portray a teenager or an old gaunt hag with equal ease. Her full lips curved as she smiled down at the picture of their children prominently placed on his desk. There were two other pictures of her flanking those of the children.

"Skye, what is it? Are the children in trouble?" He anxiously closed the door and glanced around the office for a dose of serenity before the storm. There were two stylish overstuffed burgundy and black designer chairs arranged in a corner flanking a low glass aquarium table. Motivational pictures of nature, green plants and state of the art audio-visual equipment were displayed around the room. Briefly, he glanced at the adjacent wall portrait of his parent's wedding just as he circled the desk to move toward her on soft burgundy plush carpeting, his six-foot frame looming over her by five inches.

"They're fine." She'd replied with a bright smile, too bright. He knew she was about to drop a big one on him. They studied one another silently with the bright colorful fish in the aquarium momentarily providing the only movement in the room. Before she could say another word he enveloped her in his arms. Slightly tilting her head back he gazed into her eyes and saw worlds there. There was the fall and rise of his life; love and fulfillment were there. Releasing a sigh of gratitude, he pressed his mouth gently to hers and replenished his soul. Moving his hands to her face, he caressed the soft vulnerability of her slender neck and deepened the kiss. He trailed gentle kisses along her cheek and into her black silken hair.

"Ahhh Rhys." She softly moaned, "I do love you."

He smiled down at her. "You'd be wise not to incriminate yourself with that confession, darling. I'll hold you to it for the rest of our lives," he teased before gazing into her eyes for long moments. "Whatever you are about to tell me, whatever argument or disagreement we are about to have, know that I love you, too. Nothing will ever change that. I'd give my life.again.for you."

Skye became quiet in remembering Rhys's prone body after his encounter with a deadly assassin in Ecuador during their only mission together years ago. She'd had no idea just how vital he was to her life until she lay under him, soaking in his blood as he unconsciously shielded her body on the green floral lawn of a spectacular centuries-old mansion in Ecuador. An assassin lay several feet away, his bloody work finally stopped by disguised DEA agents. That event had exquisitely clarified the feelings she had for Rhys.

"Fortunately, you won't have to take such drastic actions this time. I need to pilot a mission to Buenos Aires. I'll be gone for a week. It's nothing dangerous, just an out and back. The kids are out of school next week. Why not take to them to the cabin in Colorado for a short vacation?"

Rhys knew this explanation was a pale version of the truth. "Not good enough, honey, give me more."

"You are so demanding, Rhys! I wish you'd confine your appetite to our bedroom!" She moved away from him and stood looking down upon the bright and active aquarium world while pouting in invitation for him to share in her humor.

There is Jon's face when he demands his way. Now Rhys was beginning to get really nervous. She was trying to divert him. Redirect his attention. Appeal to his humor and his sexuality. "Again, it won't work. Skye, you haven't been on a mission in over nine years. At your insistence, not mine! You resigned from fieldwork because of the inherent dangers. Have the children slipped in your priorities?"

"Not fair, Rhys! It is only an out and back!" She glowered petulantly, her temper obviously rising at his dogged queries.

"Don't treat me like a stranger, like a person who can't tell when you are blatantly lying to protect me from the truth. Tell me precisely what is going on. What could possibly entice you to set aside all your very logical and sensible decisions to put this life behind you?"

Rhys stalked near her, his voice now a whisper as he reached for her chin and secured it in his right hand. "By God, you had better tell me the truth or I will follow you to the ends of the earth for the answer. And you know I will! But first I'll beat Gabe to a bloody oblivion for allowing you to even consider this lunacy."

Skye's eyes widened at his threat to the mission and the life of her mentor, boss, and friend, Gabe Kinski, chief of DEA Special Operations. "Stop it, Rhys! You're beginning to scare me," she whispered emphatically, her mouth slightly trembling with emotion.

"Bravo, darling." He smiled mirthlessly, raising an index finger, "One, I know what a brilliant actress you are, and," he raised another finger, "two, you have never been threatened by me in your life. I don't think anyone has ever had the dubious distinction of intimidating you. Enough games, Skye! All cards on the table, face up."

Skye thoughtfully scrutinized him. "Let's take a walk," she said while moving toward the door. Rhys took her hand and led her from his office. From past experience, he knew she sought to avoid the possibility that his office could be bugged. Skye preceded him into the outer office and his secretary looked up and smiled warmly at them, discreetly nodding at Skye. Rhys moved to one of her desktop monitors that visually displayed the boardroom activities occurring in his absence. His protocol and public affairs executives were discussing the distribution schedule and impact of the donated computers while fielding media questions. Rhys smiled at his secretary.

"Gwen, please let the board know I'll be delayed a little longer. My wife's got me on a leash again."

"And I've never seen a more happily captive man. If only we all were so blessed with your distressful situation!" Gwen laughed sarcastically.

She was one of his many staff members who had employed considerable resources and time to find Skye after she had disappeared from Rhys's life nine years earlier while he slowly recuperated from his near fatal injuries. Skye winked at Gwen before leading him to the roof of his building where the shining sun and crisp February breeze did little to thaw the chill of anticipated fear building in Rhys.

Skye walked alone to the edge of the roof and gazed down upon the teeming activities of Memphis, Tennessee. Cars raced on the streets below and people hurried to and from their destinations bundled in warm clothing and carrying an array of shopping bags, briefcases, backpacks and packages. Her loose hair wafted on the breeze and her concentrated gaze was steady and unwavering. Rhys knew she had to find her own rhythm and telling. He suddenly felt that nine years of sharing and merging and producing with her had meant nothing; in many ways she was still a very solitary woman. She still held to her inviolate refusal to impart any information to those who did not have a "need to know." He felt both sad and proud of her convictions. She was a good agent, the best. He knew he could trust his life and, more importantly, their children's lives in her hands. There were crises beyond them and bigger than them in this world. He was sorry he could not help her share in these burdens.

"I didn't lie to you, Rhys. There is a situation in Argentina that we can't get a handle on. There are several agents working it. I've provided cultural and intel consultations from the beginning. My role is simply to provide covert air transport."

"Skye, we both know there are plenty of competent pilots who can do this," Rhys argued at her back.

"I need to do this," she emphasized forcefully before softer persistence. "While I'm away, please take the children to our cabin in Colorado." She continued to gaze down upon the Memphis bustle.

"That is the second time you've suggested I take my children to Colorado." Rhys's voice became low and dangerous. He firmly gripped her arm and pulled her around to face him. "Why?" He malevolently demanded, which left her no escape and brooked no refusal.

Before his eyes all her facades vanished. Weariness descended on her and she lashed out. "I wish I didn't have to deal with you; you are wasting my time."

Stay focused. Rhys told himself. This is no act. She is cornered and reacting. Rhys fixed his gaze immovably on hers and refused the argument. "Again, why have you twice made mention of my children?"

"You've obviously forgotten that they are my children, too!" she bit out.

Rhys's eyes continued to bore down into her face. She attempted to shrug off his hand from her arm with no success; given her lethal defense training they both knew she merely allowed his gripping hold on her. With her free arm she reached into her leather jacket and extracted a folded sheet of paper. Wordlessly she handed it to him.

Rhys finally loosed his grip and took the offered paper. He unfolded it and found an email message in Spanish signed, "Tristan Alaric." Horror filled his eyes and he found it reflected in her face. She reached into her jacket again and proffered another letter. Rhys snatched it from her and unfolded the missive. Again, written in Spanish, this time signed, "Wolf." Before he could look up she handed him two more messages; one signed, "Tristan Alaric Wolf" and another simply, "Tristan Alaric."

"What is this?" His voice was harsh and cracking.

Skye walked away from him to take up her former position at the roof's edge. "It could be a coincidence, someone who shares the same name as our son. Or it could be my past catching up with me and my son having to pay the price for my sins." The sorrow in her voice was reflected by an escaping tear trailing down her face. After long moments, she continued. "The intercepted email traffic was heavily encrypted; it took the administration quite some time to decipher. The messages merely refer to minor routine drug activity in Argentina and Chile. There is some connection to Argentina, specifically Buenos Aries and Ushuaia, and the Antarctic regions, but we are unsure of what it is. We normally would not even pursue this low level activity. Gabe first noticed the name, that's why he initiated this mission. I am only the pilot."

As Skye gazed over the city she noted the increasing rush hour traffic below and the advancing dusk before concentrating on the man standing behind her. Please let it go, Rhys. Stop probing.

"What are you not telling me?" Rhys asked quietly.

Skye refused to answer. She felt him move toward her. She felt him at her back. She expected him to bully her, insist or threaten. He gently slipped his arms about her waist and pulled her close, laying his face tenderly against her head.

"Tell me all of it, Skye," he insisted.

She was undone! "Gabe insists there is no way a trail could have led to me as all information flows were masked and my role in Peru and Ecuador were untraceable to the DEA. Gabe contends that you are the thread. The retaliation, if this is malignant, is directed at you." Ragged breath escaped from his anguished soul. Skye clutched at his embracing hands and held them tightly. "My primary role is as the pilot, my subordinate task is to identity anyone from our time together nine years ago. I'll be disguised, as usual, and nowhere near the front lines. Trust me, Rhys, to take care of this. Please trust me, Rhys," she begged.

"I trust you," he soothed.

"I need to leave tonight. I'm on my way to the Virginia Headquarters now. I have seven letters for the children to keep them from worrying-one for each day. Rhys, will you please go to Colorado?"

"We'll go tomorrow morning," he agreed.

Skye sighed in relief and collapsed against him surprised at how tense she had been. "Thank you."

In one movement, he turned her around to face him and covered her mouth with a deep kiss that left her soul raw. She felt the raging beast of anger and helplessness and fear uncoil in him as he rained caresses on her face, into her hair and along her neck. His hands roughly pulled her into himself while she whispered words of comfort and assurance. In the midst of their private storm she heard a distant clearing of a throat.

"What?" Rhys barked out the question while never slackening his embrace.

"Rhys, the journalists are ready for your interview and the board requires your actions before adjourning," Gwen crisply responded.

"I'll be right there," Rhys informed her as she quickly retreated from the maelstrom of their unity; he briefly wondered how she knew to find them on the roof. Rhys tucked Skye's hair back and placed his mouth next to her ear.

"If you are not back in exactly one week I will go to Argentina and find you." Alarm chilled through her at the destruction he could unleash on this mission.

"Please don't--" His look cut off her plea.

It was a look she had never seen in the nine years she had known and loved him. Gently, he smoothed her cheek with the back of his hand and buried his face in her hair while inhaling deeply of her lavender scent. "I love you, Skye. I'll see you real soon," he both comforted and warned before taking her hand and leading her from the roof, down the elevator, and to the glass double door exit of his building. Another branding kiss and she was gone. Deep in thought, he made his way to the boardroom.

* * *

" . . .Thank you. Thank you. Sam-I-Am. The end!" Sierra concluded.

"Very good. You both read so well despite the fact that this book is much too easy for you! I bet you'll win the reading award again this year at school," Rhys congratulated the beaming children.

The fire cackled as a log shifted in the grate. The smell of savory beef stew, fish sticks, and biscuits were still evident after the children had washed and dried the dishes before their story time. They were dressed in their pajamas and cuddled on the off-white oversized couch pillows around their father after having brushed their teeth before story time. Rhys wore burgundy fleece sweat clothes and his bare feet were propped upon an oversized lavender pillow atop the oak coffee table.

"Dad, read Mom's letter now."

Rhys nodded at his oldest son and his breath caught at Jon's focus. There is Skye bathing him in her love and need. He banished those thoughts and gently pushed Jon's head back against the sofa pillows. Jon giggled. Rhys reached for the now well-handled letter and unfolded it before reading:

"To my beautiful angels: Sierra, Jon, and Wolf. Mommy loves you very much. I'm going to tell you a secret. One day you three will be big people, adults, and you will help others to be healthy and happy and safe. You will continue to make God and Daddy and me very proud of you, as we are very proud of you now. Have good and funny dreams tonight and remember to say your prayers because I am praying for you and Daddy. I love you very much! Mom."

Rhys held the letter for moments longer at the end and his heart and body ached for her. He lifted his eyes from the letter and looked into the faces of his children. The mood was suddenly somber and the twins' eyes were suspiciously moist.

"Okay, Jon, looks like you have claimed the sofa for tonight. Sierra, do you want to sleep in the loft tonight?" Rhys asked to lighten their moods.

"Daddy, I love living here in the cabin-I'm going to sleep in the loft!" Sierra decreed with excitement.

"Be careful climbing that ladder, honey. Remember your prayers," Rhys reminded her as she headed toward the loft stairs.

Rhys laid a drowsy Wolf on the end of the couch. Jonathan was settling in under the blankets as Rhys sat next to him.

"Dad, is Mom ever coming home?"

"Of course she is, Jon. She would never be happy without you." Jon smiled and reached up to hug his father and they held each other tightly as Rhys kissed his cheek. "Son, I'm so glad God made you to look so much like Mom. You are my special gift."

Jon's smile widened and he lay down as Rhys tucked him in securely. Hoisting Wolf to his shoulder, he carried him into the single bedroom and navigated the oversized pastel pillows strewn on the floor to place him in bed under the lavender silk and crochet quilt.

Next, he climbed the loft ladder and crawled on the cream colored llama pelts strewn on the floor. Sierra lay upon a pile of oversized pastel floor pillows and was covered in a thick cat and dog designed quilt. She smiled widely at him in the small pool of lamplight as he crawled in beside her and pulled her close in for a hug. "Hey sweetie, are you done with your prayers?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Did you remember to pray for Grandma Wielde?"

"Yes, Daddy. Do you think she misses you like we do Mommy?"

"Yes sweetie, that's why she visits us often. But I think she enjoys her friends in Maine too."

"Daddy, I'll live with you always so you won't ever miss me!"

Rhys smiled hugely, praying that she would always feel that way. "Brave Sierra that would make me the happiest daddy in the world!"

Sierra giggled as Rhys squeezed her tightly to him before tucking her in and kissing her goodnight.

After all the kids were settled in, Rhys dimmed all the lights in the cabin and stepped outside onto the deck. Snow still blanketed the ground and winked like white diamonds in the moonlight. The moon beamed bright against the blackness of the night sky and animal cries and activities punctuated the silence. He shivered slightly in the crisp winter breeze of late February and wrapped his arms tightly around his body. He stared questioningly into the starry sky as thoughts leapt unbidden in his heart. Where are you, Skye? Are you well? Are you hurt? I know you are alive because I can feel you! Your week has expired. As promised, I'm going to find you!

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