Funny how his gut kicked at the thought of it, Michael reflected wryly. There’d always been the four of them- Michael and Lana and Shelby, the triplets, with Garrett watching over them like a hawk. Michael hadn’t thought he minded that Lana was married. Who could, when she was so happy? But…

His gut definitely kicked.

“We’re still family,” Garrett said stubbornly. “We need to talk through our plans to find our birth mother.”

“Your plans. I told you. I’m not doing any-”

Michael stopped in astonishment.

His secretary-calm, unflappable and cheerful Jenny-crashed through the door as if the hounds of hell were after her. She shoved the door closed behind her and leaned against it, as wide-eyed and pale as Michael had ever seen her. She looked terrified.

He wasn’t head of security for nothing. Their birth mother could wait.

“Emergency,” he snapped, and dropped the phone into its cradle before Garrett had time to say another word.

ONLY IT WASN’T an emergency, or not one he could see.

Michael crossed swiftly to the window and stared out. As in Jenny’s office, his interior windows were only transparent one way. He could see Jenny’s reception area, which was empty, and the main foyer beyond.

There were a few visitors milling around reception. Nothing noteworthy there. The receptionists looked calm and unconcerned. Two innocuous men in gray suits were walking toward Jenny’s door.

The way she was acting, you’d think the men were carrying machine guns. Which was crazy.

But Michael was trained to act first and ask questions later. What he saw on Jenny’s face was terror. He’d be a fool to ignore terror, and Michael Lord was no fool.

In one fast motion he tugged Jenny away from the door, pulling her easily against his chest. Then he flicked the switch she’d been leaning against. Smoothly, the security panels slid into place, locking the doors and windows and making the smoky glass an impervious, bulletproof screen.