But his wife was fucking a path through D.C., his daughter was still a baby, and he knew that keeping her if he divorced her mother would probably be impossible. He was a grown man; he’d made his bed, and he wouldn’t have his daughter pay for his need to escape that cold, hard rock he’d made for himself.

So he waited, kept track of her, watched her, ached for her from afar until Katie turned five and he’d filed for an annulment. His wife had left with her lover, Rigsby, and with Regan Doogan Moore’s help had attempted to take his daughter.

His breath caught when he told her how Katie died. He felt her tears on his chest, her silent sobs in the shudder of her shoulders.

“Less than six months later, Harley had tracked Catalina’s lover, her killer, to Cumberland; we just couldn’t figure out his identity or why he was in Kentucky. I left Harley here to find the bastard, see what he was up to.” His fingers clenched in her hair for a tortured moment. “The next thing I know, Director Bryce is on the phone telling me . . .” He had to stop, swallow past the lump in his throat. “Telling me you were in trouble and for me to get to Sam’s. And God as my witness, I had no idea Rigsby was behind it. I suspected his presence here had something to do with the weapons thefts from Fort Knox, but I had no idea anyone knew what I felt for you. And I never suspected Jack, not with his ties to the Mackays.”

Luther had filled all the blanks in. How Rigsby had known about Zoey, used her to distract Doogan and Harley while he and Jack continued to steal information on high-level military teams currently abroad on assignment. Luther Jennings was unaware how he was being used as a distraction if he was needed. Then Doogan had returned to Cumberland, his interest in Jack’s pack making the two men far too nervous.

He’d known more was going on than a threat to that pact when he’d arrived; he’d believed the threat was to Zoey, though, not the human resources information they’d found access to. He’d been distracted. That mistake had almost been a fatal one. He’d almost lost Zoey.

“I knew I loved you, Zoey,” he whispered. “I knew if I lost you too, I couldn’t live. Losing you would break me.”

“I was right here, Doogan. I was always here, waiting for you,” she whispered, finally able to lift her head to stare down at him.

And in his eyes she saw the pain, the rage, the man who had to face the fact that he could only run for so long, and that the time for it was over.

“Yeah, you are,” he whispered, reaching up to cup her face. “Graham came to see me a few weeks ago,” he said then.

She nearly stopped breathing. God, he’d promised . . .

“He told me if I waited too long to come for you, then he’d make sure when I got over my dumb and came back later, he’d make sure I left just as fast.” His lips quirked. “He’d do it too. I figured I better get my ass back here and claim you while your family was willing to let me.”

Her brow arched. “You need their permission?”

“Not anymore.” He tugged at her hair, pulling her to his kiss, whispering the words over her lips. “I belong to you, witch. Heart and soul. There’s no way in hell I can live without you.”

Her smile lit up his heart. Filled with love, with a promise that met the one in his heart.

“Welcome home, Doogan.” And her lips lowered to his, their kiss one of shared promise, of shared love.

When it was over, he tucked her against his side again. “Damn, I’m tired, honey. You wear a man out.”

“Better get your rest,” she murmured as he let his eyes drift closed. “I figure you have about seven months to recuperate.”

His eyes jerked open, panic flashing through him for about two seconds.

No, he told himself desperately, she didn’t mean . . .

“Zoey . . .”

“Did Graham tell you I was pregnant, Doogan?” she asked, her tone perfectly reasonable. “Because if he did, you walk your ass right back out of here. At least until it snows.”

He blinked up at the ceiling. He tried like hell to swallow.

Slowly, he sat up, telling himself his hands really weren’t shaking. He wasn’t ready to pass out because he couldn’t breathe past the tightness in his chest.

“What did you say?” he wheezed.

That siren’s smile, those witchy eyes. Emerald circling celadon. So damned beautiful she could steal his breath even when he wasn’t in shock.

She caught his hand and dragged it to her still-flat stomach. “I warned you,” she reminded him. “I just didn’t realize the pill I was on was low dose. My doctor figures I’m about six weeks pregnant.”

He stared at his hand where it covered her stomach, realizing what she hadn’t told him.

“You weren’t going to tell me.” He turned his gaze to her, glaring back at her. “Were you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she admitted, stubbornness flashing in her eyes. “If you didn’t want me without a baby, then you could do without me. I wouldn’t have kept our baby from you, though.” Regret filled her expression. “I would never punish our baby, Doogan. I would only love it, and you, and always regret what hadn’t been.”

His Zoey. His witch.

“I love you, but I’m spanking your butt for that one,” he promised her.

A little roll of her eyes was followed by a smothered yawn. “Later, I might let you.”

Later.

But he could kiss her. He could let his lips whisper over hers and he could thank God he got over his dumb in time to claim her. And their child.

Their child.

Damn. When he’d felt as though he’d come home the night he’d danced with her, he’d been right.

Zoey was home.

His heart.

His soul.

The mother of his child.

His sweet seductress and his life.

And for the first time in his life, he was complete.

EPILOGUE

Two Weeks Later

“That is so not fair, Dad.” The teenager’s voice could be clearly heard outside the office door as Zoey Mackay pushed into the Mackay Marine Convenience store from the rental and fuel office attached to it.

Whatever her father said was muffled, but there was no mistaking the edge of frustration in the quieter response.

“I’m fifteen, not a baby,” Annette Mackay cried out. “And you don’t let me do anything.”

Zoey winced as she turned to Annette’s mother, Kelly Mackay, to see her propped back on a stool behind the sales counter, sneaker-clad feet resting on the counter, arms folded beneath her breasts, a look of long-suffering patience on her face.

Whatever Annette’s father, Rowdy, said in reply to the accusation had his daughter jerking the door open moments later and stomping into the store, tears turning her summer-green eyes the color of brilliant jewels, though not the first drop fell to her suntanned cheeks.

Shoulder-length, ribbon-straight black hair was pulled into a ponytail, her pretty features set into an expression of stubborn teenage fury, her fists clenched at the sides of the white sundress she wore over her bathing suit.

“Momma, you have to do something with him,” Annette cried out, her heart shattered into a million pieces if her voice was anything to go by. “He’s being completely unreasonable.”

Kelly dropped her feet from the counter, slid from her barstool, and glanced at the open doorway where her husband stood, amusement gleaming in his eyes, before her gaze moved to her daughter.

“Unreasonable? Again? Not your father, Annie. Such an idea shocks me.” And she sounded shocked too, Zoey thought as she ducked her head and moved behind the counter to join Kelly.

“It isn’t funny, Momma.” Annette was obviously within seconds of stomping her delicate little foot if her expression was anything to go by.

“Of course it’s funny.” Her father stepped out of the office, his expression mocking as his daughter turned to him with a look of such teenage disgust he stopped and narrowed his eyes on her. “The very fact that you actually believed I’d give you permission to go is the funniest part. I’m still laughing.”