Free Outsider by Diana Palmer Page A

heavily. “My lifestyle wasn’t conducive to fatherhood, anyway.”
    â€œLots of kids grow up in the military without major problems,” she pointed out.
    He hesitated. His eyes narrowed. “Sarina, I wasn’t exactly in the military.”
    She blinked. “But you were, when you were guarding my father. You were in military intelligence…”
    â€œThat was my cover story. Actually I was working for the CIA,” he interrupted, “as a specialist in counterterrorism, private security and hostage negotiation. Hunter and I worked together for the Company for a few years, just after I met you.”
    She stared at him, trying to reconcile what he was saying with what she thought she knew about him. “You were a…spy?”
    He shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. Your father had clandestine ties to a foreign government and threats had been made. We were called in.”
    She was speechless. She hadn’t known that.
    â€œAfterward,” he continued quietly, “I was in a…conflict overseas, helping support a small African government against a potential military coup when I got drunk, got careless and lost my arm.” He didn’t mention that he’d worked in Africa as a mercenary. He didn’t want her to know everything about his past. Not yet.
    She leaned against the door facing. “Bernadette saw it,” she said uneasily. “I didn’t realize at the time that it was you. But she saw it happen. She told me about it the first day you were here.”
    â€œYes,” he replied, searching her eyes. “And she’d never seen me in her life. So my question is this—how did she know such an intimate thing about a total stranger?”

CHAPTER FOUR
    S ARINA WASN ’ T TOUCHING that question. Bernadette had a solid link to Colby and she didn’t dare elaborate on why. “I don’t know,” she said evasively.
    â€œHas she done this before?” he persisted.
    She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him how proficient Bernadette was at reading the future. She remembered that Colby’s father had the same gift, and that Colby must certainly know about it. She didn’t dare risk having Colby know so much about the child. “She did dream that her grandfather was going to die,” she said, downplaying her daughter’s amazing gift.
    â€œYour father?”
    â€œNo. Her…father’s father.”
    He scowled. “You knew him?”
    She turned away. “It’s none of your business now,” she said. “My private life is just that—private.”
    â€œWhy couldn’t he find Bernadette’s father, then?” he demanded.
    â€œBecause his son hated him,” she returned, glaring at him over her shoulder. “They’d had no contact for years.”
    He understood that situation. He and his own father hadn’t spoken for years before the older man’s death. He searched her face, noticing the lines, the dark circles under her eyes. She looked older than her years. He recalled what Hunter had said about the life she’d had.
    â€œEverybody turned against you,” he said softly, frowning. “You were a sweet, loving woman. You never deserved such treatment.”
    Her expression was unreadable. “What was it you used to say? That whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger? I got stronger.”
    His gaze slid down her body. She was just as desirable as she’d been when he first knew her. But he’d cheated her. He couldn’t blame her for hating him. He drew in a long breath. “Of all my mistakes,” he murmured, “you’re my biggest. I should never have touched you.”
    â€œI never understood why you did,” she added coldly.
    He couldn’t admit that he’d been feverishly hungry for her, despite their forced nuptials. Even the anger hadn’t stopped him. He hated knowing that he’d hurt her