A Father's Sacrifice by Mallory Kane Page A

weight to her other side as she headed toward the house. She wasn’t about to let him go until she placed him in his father’s arms.
    “I want Daddy,” Ben whined, wriggling.
    “I know, sweetie.” Natasha pressed a kiss to his damp, grimy cheek.
    Mintz appeared at the kitchen door, his face nearly purple with rage.
    Natasha stopped in front of him. “Sir, I’m sorry—”
    The security chief ruffled Ben’s hair and nodded at Natasha. “Good job,” he muttered, then he stalked toward the guard.
    “Hector, what the hell happened out here?”
    Natasha hardly spared a thought for the fate of the inexperienced security guard. She needed to find Dylan.
    Ignoring Charlene’s voice, and surprised at how natural it suddenly felt to hold and comfort Ben, she stalked through the atrium and into the living quarters.
    Dylan met them at the door to Ben’s room.
    “Daddy!” Ben cried. He twisted and lunged toward his father.
    Natasha breathed a sigh of relief as Dylan gathered his son in his strong safe arms.
    Dylan fiercely hugged the small, sturdy body that was more precious to him than his own breath.
    For a moment he couldn’t speak. He just held on to his son as big sobs racked Ben’s body. The smell of grass and dirt swirled through his senses.

    “Hey, sport, you okay?” Dylan whispered, a catch in his voice. He brushed twigs and dust from his son’s hair and inspected the scratches on his face and arms.
    “Daddy! I saw a copter! It got close! The wind blew all around! I was scared, Daddy! Real scared!”
    “I know, sport, I know.” He pulled Ben close and kissed his dusty forehead just as Charlene rushed in, her face pallid and streaked with tears.
    He glared at her.
    “Dr. Stryker, I don’t know how it happened. Natasha wanted to go out to the play area with us, and then Hector insisted on seeing my entry card—”
    “Stop blubbering,” Dylan whispered hotly as he patted his son’s back.
    He looked at Natasha. Her appearance shocked him. Although her face was composed, she was a mess. Her face was scraped in several places. Her long lashes were white with dust, as were her jeans. Blood dotted her arms and hands where the sharp branches of the hedge had scratched her. An angry gash marred her left arm. Her blond braid was coming undone, and twigs and grass clung to her hair.
    He had no doubt what had happened. Of the three people who had been with Ben when the helicopter had flown over, only Natasha had put herself between his child and possible danger. He needed to tighten security around Ben’s play area. Now that Agents Storm and Gambrini were helping guard the main gate, Mintz could put an extra guard back there.
    “Are you all right?” he asked her gravely.
    She nodded.
    He glanced over at Charlene. “You. See Alfred.”
    Charlene looked terrified.
    Good. She shouldn’t have let Ben get three feet away from her. Alfred would make sure she understood.
    “Sir, please. I am so —”
    “I’m pleased with your skills,” he interrupted her. “And Ben likes you. But if anything like this ever happens again—” He couldn’t go on. His son clung to him with all his might. His little body still shivered, and his hot tears seared Dylan’s neck.
    Charlene looked stricken. She’d been Ben’s physical therapist since soon after the car crash, and she obviously adored him. But right now Dylan didn’t care about her feelings. He didn’t care about anything except his son. He wanted to comfort him, make him feel safe.
    “Just see Alfred,” he said tightly. He waited until Charlene left. Then he turned his attention to Natasha.
    Her eyes were riveted on Ben. Their irises were a deep jade-green, surrounded by those long dust-covered lashes.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked her.
    She looked at him, her eyes wide and worried. “I’m fine. What about Ben—?”
    Dylan caressed his son’s head. “He’ll be fine. Go on,” he said gently. “And, thanks.”
    She started to say