Prologue

Northern California 

Six-year-old Callesandra Eleanor Montgomery arranged her favorite dolls and stuffed animals, then sat to pour them some imaginary tea and tell them a story. Her little legs crossed beneath her blanket as she got comfortable, and her fingers brushed back the soft auburn curls that had come loose from her bow. At this time of day, she was supposed to be resting, but Callesandra was a precocious child with a lot of energy. And, by choice or need, this story was one she told every day without fail. 

It started with a stormy night, like all good stories should. Her papa, Admiral Alexander Montgomery, had thrown a party that night. Callie loved when her papa had parties. The men dressed in blue uniforms with big gold braids and the ladies wore pretty ball gowns with lots of lace. Music played throughout the house and the tables were always filled with her favorite foods—white soup, meat pies, jellies, and dry cake.

But that night, the night in question, Callie didn’t care much about the party because she wasn’t feeling well. Janey, one of her nannies, kept trying to give her awful-tasting medicine; so, to escape, Callie grabbed her three favorite dolls and snuck into her papa’s study. Her papa was busy at his desk, but like any time she interrupted his work, when Callie came up next to him, he lifted her to his lap and hugged her tight. Her papa always hugged her. 

When they heard Janey calling after her, Papa put his finger to his lips, then moved his legs so she could hide beneath his desk. Callie loved it under Papa’s desk. She had a blanket and toys and, of course, her papa’s legs, so it was warm and cozy. She had just finished arranging her dolls when her papa’s best friend, Gregor, came in. Gregor was her favorite because he always picked her up and spun her around until she was twirling high in the air. But tonight, he sounded very serious. 

“There’s trouble, Alexander,” he’d said, and Callie, who’d been about to peek out at Gregor,  stilled immediately. 

Her papa swore, something Callie had never heard before, and it scared her. Then his chair scraped the floor so loud she had to cover her ears to block out the sound, and she stayed like that, curled in a ball under her papa’s desk with her hands over her ears, until her papa and Gregor left the study.  

It was a curious night for Callie. And it didn’t stop there—because that was the night Callesandra met her new mama. 

Later, after her papa and Gregor had left the study, Callie went back to her room. Janey made her take the yucky-tasting medicine after all, then helped Callie change into a nightgown. 

It was a short while later that she saw her new mama for the first time. She and Janey were in the hallway outside her mama’s room on the way back to bed when her mama called out, “Wait.” 

Callie was scared at first, because her mama was mean and pinched her a lot. Callie had always figured that’s just how mamas were, but this mama, the one who stood before her, spoke softly and was kindly. Her new mama looked just like her old mama, but she wasn’t mean and didn’t hurt her. She had prettier eyes too. They sparkled blue, whereas her old mama’s eyes had been brown. 

The whole house changed once her mama was different. Now, Mama made her papa smile and laugh. And her mama taught Callie to play the piano and dance. She taught Papa how to dance too. Not that Papa didn’t know how to dance. It was just that Mama danced different. Callie loved this new mama so much and knew her papa did too. 

Callie still had her hiding spots, though, so she sometimes heard her mama and papa whisper about things. Things like her papa insisting that her mama was never to go near the cliffs again. Ever. Her papa was really fierce when he told her mama that. He was fierce anyway, even though he was always kind to Callie. He was an admiral in the Royal Navy. Callie thought it was funny to sometimes call him Admiral, just like Goodly, their butler. 

The second night that changed their lives forever came three months later, when her papa announced that they were sailing for America. At the time he was in his study barking orders. Her papa was really good at barking orders. Her mama always said, “If you have a crisis, Papa is the only person you need with you.” 

Callie was hiding under his desk again; it really was the best hiding place. Her uncle Stephen, Gregor, and the rest of Papa’s men were carrying big, heavy chests down to the shore. Callie knew they were filled with gold and silver because she had peeked when she saw them piled up in the front hall. She had also seen the things that were really important to her papa in the trunks, like the instruments he used to make maps and to measure the stars. 

Janey and Beatrice were upstairs packing like the dickens so they could take their things with them. And Callie’s mama, well, she was looking for her! 

Her mama had come in earlier to tell Papa she had a bad feeling, but that wasn’t anything special. Callie’s new mama always had bad feelings, and Callie had to cover her mouth because she almost laughed when Papa said, “Really? You? A bad feeling?” Mama didn’t say anything, but Callie knew she was rolling her eyes. She knew everything about Mama now. Ever since that night with the yucky medicine when she was Bad Mama, they had spent so much time together that Callie almost forgot there had ever been a time when she was Bad Mama. 

“Twenty minutes, Amanda,” Papa said. “That ship—we’re on it. If there’s anything you can’t live without, you’d better fetch it now.” Callie figured the one thing that her mama was trying to fetch was her. 

She’d seen the ship her papa was talking about too. It had been anchored offshore all day. When her mama came back a few minutes later, she told her papa that she needed to talk to him, but Papa said it had to wait. Her mama had sounded so worried that Callie was starting to get a bad feeling all of her own. So, while the men rolled up maps and tossed big leather books in another wooden chest, she snuck out of her papa’s study. 

Callie hid in the hall behind the tall clock until she saw her mama come out. She called Callie’s name, looking up and down the hallway before she started walking outside toward the stables. 

Ready to come out of hiding, Callie ran to catch up with her. She lost sight of her mama, though, and had just come through the gates when she felt someone grab her from behind and cover her mouth so she couldn’t scream. That was when she saw her mama up ahead, slung over another man’s shoulder. Callie’s first thought was that her papa was going to be furious. Especially when he realized they were being taken to the cliffs. He was going to roar. 

Rain and lightning filled the sky just as the two men carrying Callie and her mama set them down and made them walk backward toward the opening of the tunnel Callie was forbidden from entering. Callie knew that it led to a three-hundred-foot drop to the sea because her papa had told her so. She didn’t know how far three hundred feet was, but she knew it was too far. Callie had always hoped her papa was fibbing, but when he talked about the dangers of the tunnel, she knew better. Her papa never lied. 

The big, ugly man had a gun and the shorter one, the one who’d grabbed Callie, had a saber. Mama started crying, pleading with the men to let them go, or at least to let Callie go. She offered them anything they wanted, just so long as they freed her daughter. 

Callie started crying then too. She was so scared, but she knew her mama would do anything for her. The bad men didn’t care, though; they just laughed. That was when her mama took her chance. While they were distracted by their laughter, her mama grabbed Callie’s hand and whispered that there was a ledge just beneath the opening and to hold on to her tight. Callie didn’t have time to wonder how her mama knew about the ledge, she just did as she was told. 

As her mama stepped over the cliff’s edge, Callie went with her, and they dropped down to the ledge that really was there, and not even that far down.

Callie had no idea how strong her mama was until that night. She kept Callie safe and secure, pressed super tight between her body and the wall of the cliff while she held on to the rock above her head. Hidden by the rockface, Callie heard the bad men yelling at each other that they’d lost them. After a while, when everything had been quiet for a bit, Mama said she thought the bad men were gone and told Callie she was going to try to lift her up so she could climb back inside the tunnel. 

Callie nodded, but before Mama could get a grip on her, lightning struck so close that Callie startled and slipped from the ledge. Her mama cried out and grabbed her with one hand, just in the nick of time. Her wrist hurt badly where Mama was gripping it, and her shins were scraped from her fall, but as Callie peeked down at the swirling water and sharp rocks below, she knew this was better. 

That was when Callie heard her papa roar from above. She couldn’t see his face, but Callie had never heard him roar like that before. She twisted around to see his hand clutched around her mama’s wrist and her mama’s hand clutched around his. Over the whipping wind, Callie heard him tell Mama he was going to lift them out. Callie could hear Uncle Stephen, too, and when she craned her neck, she saw he was lying on top of her papa’s legs so none of them would fall.

When her wrist started to slip through Mama’s hand because of the rain, Callie panicked and cried out. Her mama told her papa and Callie heard something in her mama’s voice she’d never heard before—fear. Papa yelled at Uncle Stephen to let him go so he could jump down and get them. But Uncle Stephen wouldn’t get off Papa’s legs and her papa roared at her mama, “Don’t let go!” 

But Mama screamed, “She’s going to fall, Alexander!” 

That was the first time Callie ever heard her papa beg. She would never forget it. More than how it felt to be dangling there, soaking wet and afraid, she’d remember her papa’s voice.

“Don’t let go, Amanda! Promise me! Don’t! Let! Go!” 

Then her mama made the saddest sound she’d ever heard, and Callie remembered thinking that the last roar she’d heard from her papa sounded like he was being eaten by a pack of wild animals as her mama wrapped her body around her, and, together, they fell. 

They kept falling and falling and Callie was sure they would crash soon, but they didn’t. Instead, they landed in the water, and her mama swam them both to shore. Callie remembered then what Grandpapa Montgomery used to tell her about stormy nights, the cliffs, and the tunnels: “Every once in a while, something fantastical happens on a stormy night and a horrible wrong is righted.” 

Callie figured that’s what had happened to her papa and her new mama, that something fantastical had taken place on that stormy night. 

Callie didn’t know what made the cliffs special, but her papa had once told her that whenever he was out on one of his ships, he could see a special pattern that ran down that whole side of the rock wall. Callie told her mama about it when they were resting on the shore, what her pappy had said about fantastical things, and that that must be why they were okay. And maybe also why it wasn’t storming anymore. 

But then Callie saw her mama’s hand and wrist. It didn’t look so good. Papa had been holding her tight. Callie looked at her own hand and wrist then—it was reddish and hurt, but not like her mama’s. Her mama’s wrist was kind of purple and the top of her hand and one of her fingers was bleeding really bad.

When they made their way back to the house, her papa wasn’t there. The house wasn’t Papa’s anymore, Mama explained. It was just Mama’s. Her mama got really fierce then, just like Papa would when he wanted Callie to remember something very important. 

Her mama said, “Callesandra, no matter what happens, you are my daughter.” She made Callie repeat it. Then she said, “No one will ever, ever, take you away from me. Do you understand me?” Callie didn’t, but she nodded anyway. 

This was her mama, of course that was true—but she didn’t tell her that, wondering instead when her papa would come so everything could be okay. Her papa would fix her mama’s hand like he had before when it had to be stitched. He could fix everything. 

But Papa didn’t come to fix her mama’s hand this time. Instead, Mama called someone named Aunt Sam. Callie had never met her before, but her mama had talked about her all the time. When her mama brushed her hair at night, she would tell stories about how she and Aunt Sam became friends—best friends. 

Now, as Callie looked around the house, she realized just how very, very different it looked than before. All the furniture was new and funny-looking, nowhere near as lovely as the furniture she was used to. The pictures on the walls were different, too, and the kitchen was filled with odd gadgets and shiny things that looked like nothing she had ever seen before. 

Callie was about to ask her mama where they were, how they had gotten to this strange place that was their house but also…wasn’t, when Mama grabbed something off of the kitchen counter and held it up to Callie. It didn’t look like too much to her, but Mama explained that it was called a “phone” and that if she pressed in just the right spot, it would connect her to Aunt Sam, who had one too.

Callie was skeptical at first about her mama’s phone, which was just a little smooth and shiny rectangle that she had to be very careful with, but then she realized she really liked it. A lot. Mama cried when she heard Aunt Sam’s voice coming out of the phone, loudly—something her mama called “speaker phone,” which meant Callie heard her too. 

At first, hearing Aunt Sam’s voice magically blare into the room scared her, but then she realized it was okay because her mama was so happy about it. 

“Jesus, Ammy—are you okay? Where have you been? Amanda—” Aunt Sam started crying then too. 

“Sam,” Mama choked out. “I need help.” 

That night, Callie met a man called Mr. Finch, who, according to her aunt Sam, was the person who would take care of everything. Her mama told her that Mr. Finch was a friend, someone she used to know before Callie was born, and that he was a bodyguard, which meant he protected people. And since Papa wasn’t here to protect them, Mr. Finch would. Callie was okay with him because when he first came to the house, he knelt down right in front of her and smiled really big. He spoke softly and told her, “It’s going to be okay, Cal.” No one had ever called her Cal before, and she liked the way he said it. And there really was something about Mr. Finch that made her feel safe. 

They rode together in a big truck with Mr. Finch in the driver’s seat. Callie was scared at first because she had never seen a truck before. But her mama explained that it was quicker than a horse and it was how people traveled places in this new place they now lived. Mr. Finch lifted her inside right onto her mama’s lap, then put what he called a “seatbelt” over them both. Her mama rubbed Callie’s back and hummed pretty music while Callie looked out the windows. 

They went super fast, reminding her of what it felt like when Gregor would spin her around. And even though the house and the land they drove by looked kind of the same as she remembered, it was also so very different. 

It was dark by the time Mr. Finch stopped behind a building, where a man waiting outside told Mr. Finch that it was “clear” to go in. 

That was when her mama told her that she had to have surgery. Callie didn’t really know what that was until the man who was waiting for them told her he was a doctor. He said that her mama probably needed to have part of her bone replaced because it had been crushed. 

Callie felt her own wrist then, imagining it crushed instead of nice and whole. The doctor told her mama he would fix her finger and the back of her hand, too, so there wouldn’t be scars, but Mama shook her head. “They don’t have to be ugly,” she said, her voice firm, “but I want to be able to look at these scars forever.”

Right before they took her mama to the operating room, she turned to Callie and gave her a long, hard look. “We’re going to be okay, baby. I promise,” her mama said. “Mr. Finch is going to take care of you and Aunt Sam will be here tomorrow.” 

Callie cried because she hadn’t been away from her mama for so long before. But then Mr. Finch picked her up and hugged her tight, and it was just like one of Papa’s hugs. And it wasn’t too much later before she and Mr. Finch were able to sit in the same room as her mama, waiting for her to wake up. 

For the next few days after they were back in their new home, Callie kept waiting for Papa to come, and she knew Mama was waiting, too, even though this was her house now. 

It took some time, but as the days passed, between her mama, Aunt Sam, and Mr. Finch, Callie got used to her new life. She had pretty new clothes that she loved, like sundresses and blue jeans, and shorts and T-shirts and lots of shoes. Her mama got her a new tea set similar to the one she’d had in her old room, and new dolls and stuffed animals too. 

Callie learned about TVs and cell phones and computers, though she wasn’t allowed to spend a lot of time using them. Her mama liked to do puzzles and play games with her instead. And of course, there were her piano and dance lessons. 

They only stayed in their home in Great Britain until Callie’s birthday passed. She turned six on April 20 that year. Her mama made her repeat the date over and over again. Not the April 20 part, the year part, which at first seemed very silly to Callie since it wasn’t even a real year. She also had to memorize what Mama called her “birthdate”—the day, month, and year. Mama and Aunt Sam and even Mr. Finch would ask her at odd times, “What’s your birthdate?” She’d answered the question so many times, she didn’t even have to think about it anymore. 

Then mama was packing all of her new belongings and they left Great Britain and moved to a place called New York. Aunt Sam and Mr. Finch came with them, and they all got into a huge bird that had seats inside. Her mama told Callie not to be scared, that the man who flew the plane in the sky—their pilot, Captain Morgan—would keep them safe. 

“Just wait, baby,” she’d said. “That feeling you love, that you get right here”—her mama patted Callie’s stomach then—“this time will be even better.” Her mama was right too. Callie remembered looking at her as the plane started rising into the sky and she laughed out loud when that feeling came. She couldn’t help but think of Gregor then, and how much he would have loved it too. 

Callie liked their house in New York; it was big like their other house and also on the water. The first night they got there, her mama lit a candle and put it on a table by the big picture window. Callie asked her what it was for and her mama picked her up and stood so they were both looking out at the ocean. 

“Your papa was taking us to America, Callie. That night we were separated.” Mama rarely cried in front of her, and if she did, it was really quiet. Tears would run down her face but she’d pretend they weren’t there. 

This time, when she was able to speak again, her mama said, “I lit it for your papa, Callie.” Then she placed her hand to the glass. “We made it, Alexander. We’re here.” Mama’s voice caught on a sob then and Aunt Sam took her from her mama’s arms. 

They stayed in New York only for the summer before moving to a place called California, where Mama said she had lived when she was a little girl. Aunt Sam and Mr. Finch came with them again. Callie asked her mama if Aunt Sam and Mr. Finch would live with them always, and her mama smiled before telling her that even though Aunt Sam and Mr. Finch had their own lives, they had always been very good friends, and good friends helped each other in times of need. So, they would be around a lot. Callie liked that.

In California, Mama’s belly grew big, and she told Callie she was going to have a brother. Her mama used to cry before, a lot, but now she cried even more. Not during the day, but at night when she thought Callie was asleep. Callie didn’t like hearing her mama cry, but she knew it was because she loved her papa so much, and her mama didn’t think they were ever going to see him again. But Callie had been watching a lot of movies and she knew her papa was better than all those superheroes put together. He would be able to find them no matter what.

It was when they moved to California that Callie learned her mama was a famous songwriter and that people all over knew who she was. In her new city, Callie went to a fancy school where she had to work really hard. One day at school, the fourth graders put on a performance about something called the American Revolution. 

Callie would never forget sitting there looking at the stage and all the scenery and decorations. She hadn’t thought about her old life for a long time. But she did then. There were pictures and posters of ships like her papa used to command. A ship just like the one he’d been trying to get them on that night she and her mama were taken by those bad men. And when the students came on the stage, she gasped at their costumes. The girls were in dresses like the ones she and her mama used to wear, and the boys were in uniforms. One boy in particular was wearing a uniform that looked just like her papa’s. 

Callie sat there stunned and confused, but hanging on every word the other kids said. 

As she watched the play, Callie wondered if her papa worked with the man named George Washington. Maybe that was why he had been packing them up that night and taking them to America. 

Callie thought about that book then. The one that had made her mama cry. They were still in their home in New York when she found it, and later, when she was alone, Callie had opened it to the very same page and gasped when she saw her papa’s name written there: “Alexander Montgomery.” 

The book said her papa had been found guilty of reason and had to write a sentence about death. It had taken her a long time to sound out all those words and she didn’t understand what they meant, but shortly after that Mama decided they should move—and somehow, Callie knew it was because of what she’d seen in the book. 

Mama told Callie then that Papa wouldn’t be able to find them after all, though Callie didn’t believe her. Callie would never believe her papa couldn’t find them. Never.

 

Chapter 1

January 31st, 2:00 A.M.

St. Anna Private Hospital 

Northern California

The security guard didn’t stand a chance. Alexander Montgomery watched as three of his men disarmed him, then showed him their credentials. 

At the present hour, the hospital corridors were all but deserted. A nurse pulled out her cell phone to record Alexander’s fifteen-man entourage as they passed. Her phone was taken and destroyed as she was ushered away. The group separated at the bank of elevators. Alexander’s faction was made up of his brother Stephen, Dr. Evan Childress, tech specialist Michael Bowers, and attorney Christopher Bennett. 

The nurse stationed behind the desk reached for the phone as they commandeered the west wing of the eighth floor. Alexander couldn’t be sure what shocked her more—him and his men, or the two hospital board members accompanied by head psychiatrist Dr. Jay Meyers approaching from another corridor. She dropped the phone and sat in silence. Smart woman. 

“I’m not happy about this,” Dr. Meyers said as he reached Alexander.

“Dr. Meyers,” Alexander began, “I can unequivocally assure you no one is unhappier than I.” He looked to his attorney, Chris, who withdrew the necessary paperwork. After a careful inspection, the documents were signed. Under almost any other circumstances Alexander would have felt victorious. This was none of those. “Where is she?”

He followed Amanda’s doctor down the hallway. Considering the press she’d had over the past nine months and that she was a celebrity in this century in her own right, Amanda’s room was the only one in this hall that was occupied. Three men stood outside her door. At first glance they seemed harmless, perhaps visitors loitering in the hallway. But they weren’t harmless. Or visitors. Until twelve hours ago, they’d been Amanda’s private security detail. Now they worked for Alexander. 

“Finch.” Alexander shook Stan’s hand, a wave of relief washing over him at finally meeting the man who, for all intents and purposes, held his family’s charge. He owed the man more than he could ever repay. 

Stanley Finch had kept his family safe when he could not. He’d kept them hidden too. Bloody hell, he’d kept them so hidden Alexander had had to purchase the company to find them. It was the sixth of such businesses he’d acquired in his efforts. Amanda had been signed into the hospital under an assumed name. Alexander hadn’t even known she was pregnant until the papers were signed and JDL Security had become his. 

Since landing in the twenty-first century seven months ago, he’d done nothing but try to find his wife and daughter. Why he’d thought it would be as simple as walking through the front doors of his estate escaped him. He’d quickly discovered that Amanda and Callie weren’t there—nor was anyone for that matter. He’d learned later they had left only the week before, closing the house for an extended time away. 

They hadn’t been able to leave the property immediately, though. Instead, he, Stephen, and Gregor had spent days searching for, finding, and digging out the chests of gold and silver bullion, jewels, and other personal items they’d buried in the tunnels before jumping off the cliff in the eighteenth century. 

Since, back then, he and Amanda could never be sure which portal opening she had originally come through, he’d decided it was best to jump from the one she and Callie had fallen into. It wasn’t hard to locate the exact spot—it was a moment Alexander would never forget, one forever imprinted in his brain—and, with Stephen halfway down the cliff wall and Gregor waiting upon the rocky shore as Alexander pushed a few sacrificial goats into the sea, they’d determined that the portal opened no more than twelve feet below where Stephen stood. They’d tested again and again with various small game until they were sure of the exact location of the portal before making the leap themselves. 

Shaky and amazed that they’d actually made it, the trio quickly realized that the twenty-first century was even more different from the eighteenth than they’d ever imagined. They hadn’t calculated it would take so much time to acclimate to their new surroundings and the advancement of science. All sciences. 

Thankfully, the Abersoch property had been updated by its previous owners over the centuries, which gave them a softer introduction into what he now knew of modern technology in its truest form. 

Disturbing would be putting his reaction to the new order of things mildly. It was one thing to listen to Amanda speak of how things were in her time, in the great fantastical future as they’d jokingly called it while they were together. It was something else entirely, though, to experience them firsthand. Stephen managed with the changes quite well, and Gregor…Gregor’s eyes lit with each new gadget, large or small, they happened across—be it light switch or automobile, electric knife or jet.  

Having been a spy during simpler times had its advantages. They’d cracked Amanda’s safe, which was, thankfully, exactly where she had told him it would be when, on a lark one evening, Amanda had taken him on a “tour” of his own home, gleefully pointing out how things were different in her time. 

It took only a small amount of the explosives Alexander had packed in one of the chests to open the safe, and inside they found she’d left behind multiple passports, all with varying aliases and addresses, both for her and for Callie. All of the information was bogus. He did, however, find the remnants of a receipt in Amanda’s nightstand drawer that brought him to the bowels of London, to the establishment where Stan had taken her to purchase their illicit traveling papers. 

Stan, he later learned, was a longtime friend of Samantha’s and had a reputation for being what people in today’s world called a “cleaner”—someone who could, and would, take care of anything and everything for his employer. He’d have known Amanda, too, Alexander realized, if they all went to college together. He wondered how much Amanda remembered of her time with them.

The seedy back alley storefront was just that, a front for anyone plying in the trade of secrets. Its patrons ran the gamut from legitimate blokes working for various intelligence agencies to the dregs of society using it for things like black market trades and human trafficking. As such, it was a hive of activity and under constant surveillance. Alexander had thought he, Stephen, and Gregor had done pretty well with their futuristic “present day” disguises, but looking back, he realized how off they’d been. 

Their peculiar looks had resulted in their being tailed back to the estate by Michael and Trevor, who at the time worked with what the Crown now called the Secret Intelligence Service—or MI6. Alexander and the boys had had their obligatory pissing match, then threw their cards on the table. 

As he was wont to do, Alexander won them over, so Michael and Trevor helped him obtain all the necessary identification and travel documentation that he, Stephen, and Gregor needed. 

More than that, the boys taught Alexander and his cohorts about current weaponry, wireless gadgetry, and military issue surveillance equipment. In turn, Alexander taught them hand-to-hand combat and the fine art of mind bending without all the textbook bullshit. 

He’d tried to pay them in cash, even gold, but they’d refused. Instead, they’d been impossible to shake and joined what he now considered to be his merry band of brothers in the new order of things. 

Michael and Trevor themselves were actual brothers and essentially orphaned. Having only each other, they’d somehow gotten it into their heads that they’d join forces with Alexander, Stephen, and Gregor. He referred to them as the “boys” and, despite their rocky introductions, he was, in all honesty, rather fond of them. 

It was Michael who’d introduced him to most of the men who worked for him now. All retired military, British and American alike, with a random spray from other countries. The more they brought within their circle, the more who stayed. 

They’d followed Amanda’s trail and found she’d paid cash for everything. But as that was the only trail he’d been trained to follow, it had been simple for him. Not easy, only simple. They found the doctor who’d repaired her hand, the stores where she’d purchased clothes for Callie. The skeleton staff she’d hired for the estate. The document lab and Captain Morgan, who’d flown them to the States. Lastly, the New York estate where they’d spent the summer. Then they’d vanished. Literally. Stan was that good.

Alexander had used all the resources at his disposal, his new band of brothers, and an exorbitant amount of money to buy JDL. The purchase included a training facility and compound in northern California. It was constantly bristling with combat training, weaponry, explosives, and surveillance. Providence that it was where he’d ultimately found his family. It was because of Amanda he’d decided to make the business of security his actual business. One, he needed to find her, and two, it was lucrative. Half of his current employees worked private security like Stan; the other half were hired mercenaries. 

He shared a look with Stan now as they changed guard duty, Alexander never more grateful to resume such an awesome responsibility—the care of his family, Amanda, Callesandra, and their newborn son.  

He’d just pushed the door open when Dr. Meyers stayed him with a hand. “Mr. Montgomery. You’ve taken steps to provide medical and psychological supervision? As you’re now aware, our patient suffered a traumatic nervous collapse. She needs time, not just to recuperate physically from the delivery, but she’ll require specialized care to address her memory loss as we—” 

“Dr. Meyers,” Alexander said, cutting him off. He wasn’t an idiot. He motioned Evan forward. “May I introduce Dr. Evan Childress.” No other explanation was necessary. 

Dr. Evan Childress was a world-renowned psychiatrist. He’d consulted for Art Fisher and JDL over the years. On the plane ride over from New York, Evan had studied Amanda’s most recent medical records while Alexander sat white-knuckled on the G5, his new company’s private jet. He hated flying but it was an unfortunate necessity in this life they’d found themselves living. 

After what had seemed an inordinately long time, Evan had looked up and informed Alexander of Amanda’s condition, equating her diagnosis to what he’d called psychogenic amnesia. “When you just can’t deal with pain, Alex, the psyche effectively does it for you.” It was only one of many times throughout the past nine months Alexander had felt a tightening in his chest, which he assumed was a very real reaction to his failure to protect his family. He’d winced, flexing his hand as the pain abated. 

Evan had prepared him for one of three reactions Amanda could have. The first that she would recognize him instantly and her memory would return. The second, she would instinctively recognize him, but her memory wouldn’t come back right away. She might intuitively trust him, for example, but not know why. The last possibility Evan suggested was that Amanda wouldn’t recognize him on any level, and that she would never remember their lives together. 

Not wanting to waste another moment before finding out which reaction she was going to have, Alexander nodded, pushed past Dr. Meyers, and walked into Amanda’s room. Four days ago, she’d endured what he’d been told was a terribly difficult delivery. It had been followed by a breakdown of epic proportions that necessitated she be sedated. 

Alexander glanced at the dial of his Breitling Navitimer. He’d missed her by three days. His breath caught as he laid eyes on her for the first time in what felt like the quarter millennium of time that had separated them. The relief he felt was almost overwhelming, surpassed only by regret. He flexed his hand as that familiar sharp pain presented. It lasted at most a second, but long enough to divert him from losing control of his emotions. 

Helen, the private nurse Stan had hired, sat at Amanda’s bedside. While Evan spoke with her, Alexander started unbuckling the restraints around his wife’s wrists. The first fell against the rail, revealing deep purple and yellow bruising. His fingers gently brushed her skin, then gripped—Jesus, he had to force himself to let go—so affected by being able to touch her. 

She made a sound and tried to roll over as he started on the second of her manacles. Then her eyes shot open. “Who…where…” She sounded worse than she looked. And she looked like a disaster.  

“Shh.” His hand cupped the side of her precious, beautiful face as he tried to soothe her. “You’ve been discharged, Amanda. I’m taking you home.” Her free hand started frantically scratching the leather around her other wrist. He knew what it felt like to be trapped so he let her help. 

“My son,” she said as she tried to sit up. 

“He’ll be here in a minute,” Alexander told her as he helped her sit upright. 

She grabbed his hand, big cornflower-blue eyes wincing in pain as she begged, “Take them off—please.” She covered her face as fat tears fell, but he didn’t know what she was talking about. He looked around the room, and then down at the end of the bed. Jesus Christ. They had her ankles locked down. He was so angry he almost ripped the bindings holding them to the bedrail. Once she was completely free, he lifted her out of her prison, giving her a reassuring squeeze once she was safely cradled in his arms. 

“Bloody hell, sweetheart,” he whispered as he started for the door. “I’m sorry.”

“My daughter’s British,” Amanda told him drowsily. 

“I know,” he said grimly, realizing his wife didn’t remember him. Was it option three?

Alexander stopped at the desk again. His son had been brought up from the nursery. They checked his bracelet against Amanda’s. Satisfied they had a match, the nurse placed him in Stephen’s outstretched arms. 

Amanda stiffened suddenly. “Where are we going?” 

“I’m taking you home, Amanda,” he reminded her.

“Zander! My baby! I have to get my baby!” 

“He’s right here.” Alexander turned her so she could see him. “See?”  

Her eyes filled with tears again. “Thank you.” 

He wanted to cry with her. He didn’t; and considering how grievous the past 278 days—not that he was counting—had been, he thought it a win. She sighed and put her head back down against his chest. 

It was close to four in the morning by the time they arrived at Amanda’s. She’d slept in Alexander’s arms the entire ride over. Burrowed herself into the crook of his neck, just as she always had. It buoyed his hopes that perhaps she instinctively remembered him. And it felt amazing. He couldn’t hold her tight enough and rocked her—bloody hell—just because he could. 

Sam, Amanda’s best friend, was waiting outside the front doors. They’d never met, but Amanda had talked about her frequently enough—to both him and Stephen—that Alexander knew it was her immediately. 

Stephen had been present for a lot of Amanda’s stories about “the future,” most of which included Sam. At first, Alexander had been furious that his wife spoke so often of another man. When he finally voiced his anger, Amanda had used one of her favorite phrases, “Really, Alexander?” She’d rolled her eyes, too, before telling him that Sam was short for Samantha. He smiled thinking of it. Now, Sam only nodded upon seeing them arrive, rubbed Amanda’s cheek, and said, “Follow me.”

Putting Amanda in her own bed was difficult but necessary. After speaking with Evan and Helen, he reluctantly left Amanda in their care. Time to find his daughter. But before he could do anything more, Sam cornered him in the hall as the door snicked shut behind him. 

Alexander recognized that Samantha Gilchrist was as beautiful as his wife. And from what he’d gathered, and he’d gathered a bloody lot, she was smart and talented, too, in her own right. He knew that Sam and Amanda had met at a private girls’ boarding school and had later attended the same college together. Amanda followed the fine arts of dance and music while Sam studied law and journalism. 

“She thinks you’re dead,” Sam said expressionlessly.

“I’m not.” Alexander wasn’t surprised by her tone or lack of emotion. Amanda had often said Sam warmed up slowly, if at all—the result of something that had happened to her back in college, apparently. Amanda had seemed so torn up about it that Alexander pressed for more information. Eventually, Amanda divulged—begrudgingly, and quite sparingly—that Samantha had been taken advantage of, attacked in some manner by a man who was a classmate of theirs, though beyond that she’d never expounded. 

At the time, he’d been furious on behalf of his wife’s closest friend, but Amanda had smiled softly and patted his hand, telling him that it was okay now, that it was well in the past—then she’d chuckled at her own unintended joke. Samantha, she said, was shrewd, yes, but if you were lucky enough to gain her trust, her friendship and love were a gift like none other.

“Obviously. You missed her by—”

“Three days, Samantha. Story of our lives. Always just this side of too late.”

“Don’t be pathetic,” she shot back. “You’re here. I’m not sure how and I’m not sure I want to know. Hearing Amanda’s side of the story was absurd enough.” A look crossed her face. “If anyone finds out—”

“We’ve covered our tracks. Destroyed everything we can. Dr. Childress has already convinced me that it’s in Amanda’s best interest to let her draw her own conclusions.”

“He knows?” Her expression was incredulous. 

“Yes.” Alexander didn’t find it necessary to expound at the moment. If ever. To her point, however, there were a handful of people who were indeed aware of how he and Amanda had met, and also how he had lost her and his daughter. He couldn’t be expected to keep something like that to himself—Amanda clearly hadn’t.

“So, until she remembers? If she remembers?”

“Until she remembers,” Alexander said pointedly, “I’m the new owner of JDL Security.” On the ride home from the hospital, he’d decided to change the name to Calder Defense, the first three letters of Callie’s name and the last three of Zander’s. “Amanda’s a client and my brother’s her new detail.” Which granted Alexander access to her and his children’s lives, he’d decided, even if the cover was a bit of a stretch. He was relying on his wife’s love of family, immediate and extended, and knew this was right up her alley.

“Wait,” Samantha said, putting up her hand. “You bought JDL?”

“Yes. And all its subsidiaries.”

“Your fortune traveled with you?” Sam asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.

If she only knew how long his men had worked to bury everything deep within the cliffs. 

“It multiplied, actually.” He’d been shocked to find his gold and possessions were worth over a billion dollars in today’s market, though he’d gladly give it all away for his wife and children. “Where’s Callesandra’s room?”

“You’re going to wake her up?” 

“Damn right I am,” he said, a little louder than he’d intended. Samantha’s initial surprise was quickly followed by a nod of understanding, and she led him to the room down the hallway on the right. 

His hand splayed the solid wood panel a moment before covering the large pewter lever that opened her door. Alexander stood in the threshold as his eyes adjusted. Soft light illuminated her entire room, and he saw immediately that it was a little girl’s dream; an immense four-poster bed sat against the wall facing the doorway where he stood. To his left were bookshelves and a desk. To his right, large picture windows that overlooked the sea. One corner was filled with a dress-up and play area, another held a small table and chairs. The table was set for tea, and dolls and stuffed animals filled the chairs. 

The entire scene brought tears to his eyes. Amanda had done a remarkable job under the circumstances. That Amanda had held on to her sanity as long as she had was astounding. He’d come close to losing his mind multiple times. 

He sat on the bed next to his daughter. She was facing the other way. His hand covered her little back. “Callesandra.” 

His heart nearly turned over in his chest at her whispered response. “Papa.” Then she rolled over, rubbed her eyes, and her sweet little face fell in shock. He grabbed her with both hands and pulled her in, rocking her as he buried his face in her neck. 

“I knew you’d find us, Papa.”

He was so overcome with emotion he couldn’t speak. It took him a solid minute to choke out, “I’m sorry it took so long, angel.”

“Are you crying, too, Papa?” Callie’s little hands framed his face.

“I am,” he confirmed, nodding his head.

“You never cry, Papa.”

“I’ve done a lot of things I never thought I’d do, Callesandra.” Things he couldn’t speak of. Things that had most likely added to Amanda’s breakdown. 

“Did you see Mama?”

“I brought her home,” he told her. “She’s very tired, angel. Having a baby…she got really sad in the hospital. Her memory is taking a little break right now.” 

“Aunt Sam said she has anemia,” Callie said, her voice very serious now.

He smiled at her attempt to set the record straight. “Mama has a form of amnesia, angel. She can’t remember—”

“She remembers me, Papa. She called me. She was really sleepy, but she called.” Her eyes got really wide. “At three in the morning.” She grinned and held up her fingers to show him. “Mama said I had a baby brother and he was going to love me so much. And then she said she loved me so much too.”

Alexander smiled again at her summary of events. “We both love you so much,” he assured her.

“Are you gonna stay with Mama?”

“No, angel. Mama can’t remember me right now.” He kissed her face again about a hundred times. “I’ll be here, though. A lot.” He noticed Stephen had cracked the door open while he waited in the hall. He knew Callie would be thrilled to see her uncle again. “I won’t be staying for now, but Uncle Stephen will.” 

Stephen came in then, and Alexander chuckled as Callie’s mouth fell open, before she gathered herself and scrambled off the bed and into his arms. As Callie and Stephen reunited, Alexander checked on Amanda once more and found her sleeping while Helen rested in a chair beside the bed. Zander lay in a bassinet between them. 

When Helen gave them a few moments alone, Alexander knelt at the bedside. Amanda had pushed the pillows to the floor and her head lay pressed to the mattress. He brushed the hair off her face, so overcome at being able to touch her again. She was alive! 

He remembered that first time he’d seen Amanda, a dead ringer for his wife, Rebecca, and the difficulty he’d had reconciling his reaction to her. Why the instant he stood next to her, he was drawn to her and not repelled like he usually was when near his wife. It was only when she’d looked up at him and he saw her bright blue eyes that he knew she wasn’t the evil woman he had been married to. 

His head fell to the bed. Just being able to inhale her scent brought a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in far too long. But even in the darkness he could see the dark circles beneath her eyes, the bruises on her wrists… She’d fought like hell. 

He reached for her hand and rubbed the scar that ran diagonally across her palm, then he kissed it. Evidence of their time together when she first came to him in his century. Her other hand showed the evidence of the night he’d lost her and Callesandra back to hers. 

He thanked God again that he’d found them, that he, Stephen, and Gregor were allowed through the portal, not the portal in the tunnels that had brought Amanda to him in the first place, but the one that ultimately took her back out—with his daughter. That they’d created a life together as well, that was bloody amazing.

Letting go of his wife’s hand, he stood and took Zander from the bassinet, sat in the chair Helen had vacated, and marveled at what a miracle he was. Eleven pounds, four ounces. “You gave your mama a difficult time, didn’t you?” 

“Stan said you’re the new owner of JDL. That you bought the hospital to get me out.”

Amanda hadn’t moved; the side of her head was still pressed to the bed, but her eyes were open now, her voice painfully hoarse. He thought for a moment about what she’d said. “I only gave an endowment big enough to pay for a new hospital,” he chuckled. 

“Why?”

“Besides the fact that Art Fisher considers you the daughter he never had and would have my hide if I wasn’t inordinately overprotective of you, you’re one of our most influential clients, Ms. Marceau. I take my responsibilities very seriously. So seriously, I’ve put my brother in charge of your keeping. And my brother and I are very close—family means everything to me—so I’ll apologize now for many upcoming intrusions.”

Her eyes teared and she smiled just a bit. “I like family.” Then she said, “Thank you for taking me out of there.” 

“You already thanked me at the hospital,” he reminded her, shaking his head. He stared at her for a moment, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed next to her and take her into his arms. “How do you feel?” he asked instead.

“As good as I look.” 

She patted the bed and reached out her hand, motioning for Zander. Alexander brought him over and laid the baby next to her. He knelt again, watching as she examined him. 

“Helen will be back in just a few minutes,” he told her. 

She was trying to remove the blanket he was swaddled in but didn’t have the strength. He could feel her frustration. “Shh…” Alexander said, unwrapping the baby. He placed her hand on Zander once he had him down to his nappy. She smiled, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. 

“Can you see his little fingers?” he asked her. She shook her head, so he held up one hand at a time and counted off each finger for her, then he did the same with Zander’s feet and toes. 

“What color are his eyes?”

Alexander smiled at her and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he told her. “They’ve been closed each time I’ve held him.” She tried to smile but sighed instead and closed her eyes. She was asleep seconds later, her hand firmly on top of their son. He laid his hand on top of hers, where it remained until Helen returned. 

“I’ll be back later today,” Alexander said once he’d stepped out into the hall with Stephen. He touched his brother’s shoulder as he passed him, squeezing once for good measure. 

Then he walked out of Amanda’s house, and down the marble stairs, stopping only when he reached the circular stone drive. Five Navigators, two Escalades, one Range Rover, and a 911 Turbo S Cabriolet lined the road that led to the gates far below the estate. The Navigators’ engines started in unison, headlights on as they circled. He climbed in the back of the third, the one Gregor was driving. 

Alexander only wished Amanda remembered so she could “see” it. She’d always said if they could figure out how to safely use the portal, Gregor would take to the great fantastical future the best.  

His chest tightened as he thought, We figured it out, sweetheart.

His men remained quiet as he flexed his hand and got his bearings. Then he punched the seat in front of him. “Bloody hell!” he yelled, as Trevor pitched forward. 

“God damn it, Alex!” Trevor, Alex’s technical boy-genius, sounded none too happy. 

“Chris secured the house next door,” Gregor said, clearly trying to calm Alexander. “He’ll have the paperwork ready today. We’ll be in tomorrow.”

“For now?” Alexander asked.

“We’re forty minutes from our accommodations.”

Alexander leaned back as Siri instructed Gregor how to get to wherever it was they were going. His hands pressed the sides of his head. He was in America. His family was as well. 

Cosmic joke.

It was two hundred and forty-five years later.