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concern.”
    “How’s she doing?”
    The concern didn’t surprise him. Eden’s compassion for the young woman Jordan had almost married was one of the things that made her the woman she was. No one knew better than Eden how rejection from someone you loved could tear you apart.
    “Still a little shaky, but overall I’d say good. Moving all the way across country was probably good for her. Getting away from everyone who knew her.”
    “Tell that to her family. Seems like my husband is on the phone to them every week reassuring them she’s fine.”
    “Why don’t they check for themselves? They’re a heck of a lot closer.”
    “Seems little sister demanded they give her at least six months before they came down. So, long distance it may be, but they call here to ask.”
    “Can’t blame her about that. Can’t be easy having that much family around worrying about you.”
    “She’s gutsy though, don’t you think?”
    The affection was evident in her voice. Just in the short time Eden and Samara were together, they had created an interesting bond. Though they both loved the same man, Noah never saw jealousy from either one of them. Which was one of the reasons he’d been convinced Samara could handle the task he asked of her.
    “Yeah, gutsy and smart.”
    “You’ll both be careful, won’t you?”
    Though Eden knew a lot about the operation, there were still certain things Noah hadn’t shared with her. Things Eden suspected but hadn’t pressed him for. Not that it’d do any good. When the time was right, all would be revealed. Until then, total secrecy was paramount.
    “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
    “We’ll check back soon.”
    Clicking the phone off, he stripped his clothes and headed to the shower. Though Jordan was in charge of the Paris office until Noah returned, he wanted to check on a few things. Letting go of control hadn’t been easy, but he’d had no choice. Noah was the only person who could conceivably get this job done to his full satisfaction.
    Jordan Montgomery was capable and experienced, but that didn’t stop Noah from wanting to know how all his operatives were doing. He’d recruited every one of them, knew their backgrounds, strengths, and most of all, their fears. At thirty-two years of age, Noah might look nothing like a Father Goose and none of his operatives would appreciate being referred to as his chicks, but sometimes that’s the way he thought of them. Being responsible for over one hundred highly trained mercenaries might not be anyone else’s idea of a dream job. For Noah, it was all he knew, all he wanted to know.
    Pulling on another pair of shorts, Noah pulled his laptop from under the mattress. Not the most original place to hide one, but his choices were limited. Besides, there was nothing on the computer that could be tied to him or his organization, but it’d be damn inconvenient to break in a new one if this one was stolen.
    Clicking on, Noah was soon immersed in emails, updating him on existing operations all over the world. No names were ever used, locations were never revealed, and no information disclosed. The first six months of training for all LCR operatives was the full understanding of a distinctive language known only to their organization. Though he could speak ten languages fluently, Noah knew this code better than he knew his own name. He should, since he’d devised it himself.
    Three years in prison had given him ample thinking opportunity. Last Chance Rescue had been created inside his mind as he lay in bed night after night, unable to sleep. The dark, sometimes horrific sounds of suffering, crying, cursing, and the occasional gruff laugh only kept the flame burning brighter. Other men might have been dreaming of going the straight and narrow when they got out. Others might have planned to go back to the same kind of lifestyle. Noah wanted neither.
    With an agonizing scald of guilt in his gut that nothing could extinguish, Noah had vowed