“You haven’t slept. Do me a favor and try to close your eyes.”

He pulled his hand back, gathered up used supplies and tossed them into the garbage.

“Okay.” She bit back a yawn as he turned off the light.

He hadn’t wanted to admit just how freaked out he’d been when he saw that she’d been shot. He’d stayed calm for her benefit.

Dylan couldn’t even think about losing her, too. Where’d that come from?

Thankfully, Samantha would be all right.

“Will you come over here?” Her sweet, sleepy voice wasn’t helping with his arousal.

The room had just enough light to see big objects without being able to tell what they were. His own adrenaline was fading, leaving him fatigued.

He walked over and sat down. She took his hand. Hers was so small in comparison, so soft.

“Will you lie next to me?” she asked in that sexy sleepy voice. “Just until I fall asleep?”

Texas Takedown

Barb Han

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BARB HAN lives in north Texas with her very own hero-worthy husband, three beautiful children, a spunky golden retriever/standard poodle mix and too many books in her to-read pile. In her downtime, she plays video games and spends much of her time on or around a basketball court. She loves interacting with readers and is grateful for their support. You can reach her at www.barbhan.com.

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My deepest thanks go to my editor, Allison Lyons, and agent, Jill Marsal. The chance to work with both of you is truly a gift.

There are three people in this world who always inspire me, bring me joy and laughter, and teach me to be the best person I can be. I love you, Brandon (Hook’em Horns), Jacob and Tori.

To my husband, John, because you are the best part of all of it.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Difficult didn’t begin to cover the past year for Dylan Jacobs. Not only had he discovered that he was a father, but he’d learned the mother who’d kept the baby from him was terminally ill. He’d wanted to be angry with her on both counts, but his frustration had died on the vine with every step toward the hospital where she lay losing her grip on life. And once he’d looked into his daughter’s green eyes—a perfect reflection of his—he’d been wrapped around that little girl’s finger.

Falling in love with Maribel had been the easy part. She had rosy cherub cheeks, dark curls for days and a laugh brighter than the Texas sun. Caring for a two-year-old who’d just lost everything known to her, everything comfortable, had been harder than his tour in Afghanistan.

What a difference a year made.

Dylan squatted at the end of the hallway just out of sight, listening intently as the sounds of Maribel’s electric toothbrush hummed, then died. The pitter-patter of her bare feet on bamboo flooring in the hallway came next. She knew the drill, the same ritual they’d performed every morning since she’d come to live with him in Mason Ridge. She’d be on the lookout, ready to find Da-da.

Her giggle was like spring air, breathing life into everything around her. And he’d been on a certain path of destruction before she came into his life.

The tap-tap-tap of her footsteps stopped at the end of the hall. She’d expected to find him by now.

“Da-da.”

He rolled and landed with his back against the floor a few feet away, arms spread open.

She jumped, squealed and clapped all at once. A second later, she launched herself on top of him. “Da-da!”

Thanks to reflexes honed by the US Army, he caught her in time.

“Airplane, Da-da,” she said. Her r came out as a w.

Dylan extended his arms and made her fly. “Mrrrrrr, mrrrrrrr.”

A knock at the back door interrupted their playtime. It was probably for the best. Maribel shouldn’t be late to preschool again. Dylan didn’t think he could stomach another disapproving look from Mrs. Applebee. He might not be the most punctual guy when it came to dropping his daughter off at school, but no one could argue his love for the child. Not even stern-faced, disapproving Applebee. She might run a tight ship, but her heart was pure gold. More important, she loved Maribel.

He set his little girl on her feet next to him. “Daddy needs a favor. Go to your room, put on your shoes and grab your backpack.”

She planted her balled fist on her little hip and argued for a little more time as a plane.

The knock came louder this time. Dylan didn’t like the sense of urgency it carried. “When you get home from school today, I promise. Okay, Bel?”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze.

“And we can have ice cream after,” he threw in to tip the scale in his favor. “You don’t want to miss your field trip to Dinosaur Park.”

“Ho-kay” came out on a sigh. She turned and bolted toward her room. Toddlers had one speed. It was full tilt.

Dylan popped to his feet in one swift motion and crossed to the kitchen, his muscles still warm from his early-morning push-ups. He liked to get his workout in before Maribel opened her eyes. When she was awake, his full attention was on her, had to be on her. Three-year-olds had no sense of danger.

Only a few people used his back door. He saw his friend Rebecca Hughes through the glass and motioned for her to come inside.

“Everything okay with Shane?” Shane was the younger brother she’d recently located who had been abducted at seven years old. Dylan tried not to think about the fact that Shane had been only four years older than his Maribel when he’d been taken from Mason Ridge and the Hughes family all those years ago. Even so, a bolt of anger flashed through him quicker than a lightning rod and with the same explosive effect.

“He’s fine. I’m not here about him.” Didn’t those words leave a creepy-crawly feeling all over Dylan?

“What is it? Something going on with Brody?” She had reunited with her high school sweetheart, who was one of Dylan’s best friends, when the man responsible for kidnapping her and her brother as children had come back for her last month.

She shook her head. “It might not be anything. It’s just that Samantha stopped answering her cell phone four days ago. I have a bad feeling.”

“You call her father?” he asked.

“Store says he’s gone fishing,” she supplied. Samantha’s father owned the only hardware store in town.

“So you want me to look into it?” Since opening the doors to his security consulting firm last year, he’d taken the occasional missing-person case, none of which had involved a friend’s disappearance. He, Rebecca and Samantha had been part of a close-knit group of childhood friends. The group had broken up fifteen years ago when Rebecca and her brother, Shane, had been abducted.

For the past few weeks, everyone in town had been focused on the manhunt for the Mason Ridge Abductor after he’d returned to permanently quiet Rebecca. Her search for her brother had brought her too close to the truth. Thomas Kramer’s grip on the community had lasted fifteen years, but luck had finally smiled on the town and they’d gotten him. He wasn’t in prison, where he belonged, but he’d been killed in a car crash and that was just as good. Either way, he was no longer a threat.

Dylan thought about his word choice. Luck? There was a reason he didn’t have a rabbit’s foot tucked in his pocket. Hard work was reliable. Luck was for ladies in Vegas at the slot machines. Luck was for people who believed in things they couldn’t see. Luck was for pie-in-the-sky dreamers. Dylan was far too practical to fall into that trap. People created their own luck.

With a state-of-the-art computer, a strong network of contacts and skills honed through the military, Dylan didn’t have to rely on chance to help his clients.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the bad feeling he had about Rebecca’s visit.

Maribel bounded into the room, ran straight for Rebecca and wrapped tiny arms around her knees. “Auntie Becca!”

“Hey, baby girl.” Rebecca bent down to eye level and then kissed Maribel on the forehead.

The two had become fast friends. A tug Dylan didn’t want to acknowledge stirred his heart. Rebecca was fantastic, don’t get him wrong, but he suspected the bond had happened so quickly in part because Maribel missed her mother. He kept Lyndsey’s picture on Maribel’s nightstand. Maribel kissed the photograph every night before bed and then said good-night to her mother in heaven. It was important that Maribel knew just how much her mother had loved her. Even more important to Dylan was that Maribel knew her mother had wanted her.

On some level, he understood why Lyndsey had kept his daughter from him. He’d been partly to blame, having declared long ago that he never wanted kids or marriage. How many times had he told Lyndsey that parenthood was about the cruelest thing a person could do to a child? Too many.

His wild-child ways hadn’t helped any. He had no right to hold on to anger when it came to Lyndsey’s decision. She’d been trying to protect her baby.

Dylan never took for granted how very blessed he’d been from the day that little girl had come into his life. His only regret was that he hadn’t known sooner, that Lyndsey hadn’t realized how much being present in his child’s life would mean to him. Had he been that much of a jerk?

The short answer? Yes.

He had to have been. Lyndsey would’ve trusted him otherwise. He couldn’t blame her, either. How many times when they’d lain in bed in the mornings had he said their life was perfect the way it was? Dozens? Hundreds? He’d been so adamant that he’d almost convinced himself, too.

Down deep, he’d wanted a family of his own but he’d never have been able to admit that to himself. He’d always figured that he’d jack it up. History repeating itself and all that. Except the one thing Dylan knew above all was that he was nothing like his parents. He’d gone to great lengths to ensure it.

And yet he couldn’t help but think he’d failed Lyndsey. Because of his stubborn streak, she’d gone through her pregnancy alone. Then she’d had a baby by herself. To top it off, she’d spent the first two years of Maribel’s life without any help from him.

He could give himself the cop-out all day long that he’d have done better by Lyndsey if he’d known. Still didn’t ease the sting of feeling as if he’d let her down in the worst possible way when she needed him. And then, before he could make any of it right, she’d died.

At least she hadn’t done that alone—he’d made certain. He’d maintained a bedside vigil during her last days. She’d been in a coma and couldn’t speak. The only thing she could do was squeeze his hand when he apologized for letting her down.

Dylan sighed sharply. Those memories had been packed away and stowed deep. So why were they resurfacing?

And how ridiculous did his point of view seem to him now? His life wouldn’t be complete without that little rug rat. Maturity was on his side. But he never would have turned Maribel away. Lyndsey couldn’t have known. She’d believed the wilder side of Dylan.

He turned to Rebecca. “I need to run Maribel to school and then I’ll make a few calls. You want to stick around and wait? Coffee’s fresh.”

“I wish I could stay. We’ve got a colt that’s in trouble and Brody has his hands full. I better get back and help with the other horses.” She’d moved in with Brody after rekindling their romance, and they’d be announcing a wedding date any day now. Together they made a great team running his horse rehabilitation center, and the work looked to agree with her. Or maybe it was just the fact that she’d found someone who could make her happy.

Dylan had more pressing matters to think about than the complications having another female in his life would bring. His three-foot-tall angel kept him on the brink of exhaustion.

“I can take Maribel to school if you want. It’s on my way home,” she offered.

Dylan figured that was Rebecca’s way of saying she hoped he’d get started looking for Samantha right away.

Maribel was already jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

He nodded to Rebecca, even though he’d miss being the one to take his little girl to school. His part-time nanny, Ms. Anderson, usually picked up Maribel in the afternoons. She cooked suppers and stayed as long as Dylan needed her around. Said she enjoyed keeping busy after being widowed at the young age of sixty. When he’d hired her, she’d volunteered to come in first thing in the mornings, too, but Dylan had refused. He couldn’t give up being the one to wake Maribel. His daughter might’ve come out of nowhere a year ago, but she was here to stay, in his home and in his heart. Dylan couldn’t imagine his life any other way.

Between Ms. Anderson, Mrs. Applebee and Maribel, Dylan had plenty of estrogen in his life.

Having his own business allowed him to work from home a lot of the time and set his own schedule for the most part. But there were occasions when he had to be away overnight. He appreciated Ms. Anderson’s flexibility.

“I’ll call the headmaster and give up my volunteer spot on the field trip.”

“I’d hate for you to do that,” Rebecca said.

“I have a few other things to do today anyway. And I’m pretty sure Applebee could use a break from me. There’s a wait list for these trips. This’ll give another parent a shot.”

Maribel frowned.

“Hey, I worked the past two. It’s good to share with the other parents so they can spend the day with their kids.” He took a knee. “Give Daddy big hugs.”

Maribel hesitated, then ran to him and he caught her as she tripped on her last step, scooping her into his arms, kissing her forehead.

With any luck, he’d be done in time to tuck his precious little girl into bed. Losing her mother had not been easy on her last year, and part of the reason he desperately wanted to make his security consulting enterprise work was so that he could be around and she could grow up surrounded by people who loved her. Dylan couldn’t bring back her mother, but he’d vowed their Bel would always know she’d been wanted and loved. Unlike Dylan, whose parents had dumped him with his grandmother at six months old because the responsibility of caring for a baby had proved too much for the free-spirited hipsters. They’d split up a year later and had rarely visited. No birthday cards. No high school graduation appearance. No showing at his daughter’s christening.

Dylan’s child would never know that brand of rejection.

She turned toward Rebecca and launched herself again.

“Hold on there.” He caught her under her arms and pulled her back toward him. He helped secure her backpack before another round of hugs came.

Maribel stopped at the door and turned, smiling, one hand holding on to Auntie Becca’s, the other waving back at him. “Bye-bye, Da-da!”

“Have a good day at school. Learn everything you can.”

“So I can be smarter than you,” she squealed. Those adorable r’s rolling out like w’s. The pediatrician had assured him she’d sort it out in the next year or so. He knew he should work harder on pronunciation with her but it was so darn cute the way she said her words. Because he’d missed out on the first two years of her life, a selfish part of him didn’t want her growing up any faster than she had to.

“That’s right.” Dylan watched Rebecca buckle Maribel into the spare car seat she’d pulled from her trunk. He stood at the window until the blue sedan disappeared down the drive.

His laptop was already booted up, so he snagged another cup of coffee and seated himself at the breakfast bar. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Maribel needed a female influence in her life even if he couldn’t imagine having time to find one. Relationships were complicated. They required communication and commitment. The only thing Dylan was devoted to at the moment was finishing his cup of coffee.

When he put his full attention to the case, it took about an hour of digging to find that Samantha had withdrawn five thousand dollars in cash from her bank four days ago. The withdrawal was timed perfectly to her disappearance. His trouble radar jumped up a few notches. She might’ve been forced to pull out the money, murdered and then dumped somewhere. No. Forget it. He couldn’t allow himself to believe she’d been killed and that he’d be looking for a body. There were other possibilities. Maybe she’d decided to pack up and take a vacation. Everyone was burned out from recent events.

A quick call to her employer shot down that prospect. Samantha hadn’t been to work in a week.

The probability foul play wasn’t involved shrank by the nanosecond.

Dylan scanned online news outlets for crimes with unidentified females on the date she withdrew money.

He came up short and sighed with relief.

There were dozens of hospitals in Dallas, even more counting the suburbs. He narrowed his search down to a five-mile radius of where she lived and worked. The number shrank to five. He called each one looking for a Jane Doe, relieved when he didn’t find her.

Next he reached out to the city morgue, which was not a call he wanted to make.

Relief flooded him at receiving the word that no Jane Does had been received in the past week.

Having exhausted obvious answers, he had to consider other possibilities. The first one that popped into his mind said she could be on the run. But from what?

This was Samantha he was thinking about. Nothing in her background suggested she had criminal inclinations. He’d known her personally for more than half his life. Wouldn’t there have been signs along the way? Lies told here and there?

Of course, the tight-knit group of twelve-year-olds had disbanded after Shane’s disappearance, but they’d all gone to the same high school, traveled in loosely the same circles. Didn’t he know her?

She came from a large middle-class family, the youngest of four kids. Her dad had been in sales, so she’d moved around most of her young life. He’d cashed out their life savings and rented space on the town square to open a hardware store after her mother had died. Samantha had settled in Mason Ridge in fifth grade, just a year before the tragedy. She’d been a good student. She’d played volleyball at Mason Ridge High School well enough to earn a scholarship to a small university in Arkansas. And that had been when he’d lost touch with her.

Her brothers had spread out, going to different colleges and then settling in separate cities. Last Dylan had heard, they had families of their own. The trouble came with her mom’s side. Several uncles had rap sheets longer than the menu at Chili’s. But Samantha never spoke about them, and Dylan figured the family had cut ties long ago.

He tried her cell. The call went straight to voice mail.

The idea one of her distant relatives could’ve gotten her into trouble didn’t sit well. No way would she get involved with them.

Dylan made a phone call to a technical-guru friend he’d used from time to time to hack into databases and phones. If a device had a firewall, Jorge could sneak past it unseen and get out with the same ability. He was the freakin’ Houdini of hackers.

Jorge picked up on the second ring. Not surprising for a man who was at his computer 24/7. “What can I do you for?”

“I got a missing person. Need to find out who she was speaking to in the days surrounding her disappearance.”

“Give me the details.” His voice was all business.

Dylan relayed information like her phone number slowly into the receiver.

Jorge repeated the digits.

Dylan confirmed.

“Got it. Hold on a sec.” The sound of fingers tapping across a keyboard came through the line.

“I can’t get a location for you, but I can see who she’s been talking to. I see your number on here. You have a relationship with this girl?” Jorge asked.

“She’s a friend.”

“I heard about all that mess going on in your neck of the woods. Glad they caught the dude. Gives a whole new meaning to being burned, though.” His jokes were crass but Dylan got it. While women sat down with glasses of wine and talked about emotions until they felt better, men joked. Dylan wasn’t arguing one style over the other. It was just a guy’s way of trying to get his arms around the stuff he didn’t have a good handle on. “I’ll send you an email with a list of the numbers, but there’s something weird. She received several calls from a burn phone in the days prior to her vanishing act.”

“None after?” Why would someone call her using a pay-as-you-go phone? Dylan didn’t like any of this news. It took him down the path he didn’t want to be true.

“Nope.”

“What’s the number?” Dylan searched for a pen and paper.

“I’ll send it in the report. Won’t do you any good calling it, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“The line’s been disabled.”

“Which means you can’t trace it?”

“Nope. Did your friend get herself into some kind of trouble?”

“Looks like it,” Dylan said. Several more scenarios ran through his mind. None he liked. He thanked Jorge and closed the call.

Dylan spent the rest of the morning tracking down Samantha’s landlord in Dallas, who agreed to check out her place. Her car was gone from the parking garage of her condo. A few drawers had been left open in her bedroom, and her bathroom counter was empty. Experience had taught Dylan that women didn’t go anywhere without their makeup bags.

Mail sat on the counter untouched. Other than a few necessary supplies, very little was missing from her condo. When she’d decided to take off, she hadn’t brought much with her. A quick escape suggested someone on the run, just as he feared she might be. But again the question came up. Running from what? Or whom?

Was she dating someone? Dylan should’ve asked that question first. A woman’s biggest threat in life was a man close to her—a boyfriend or spouse. Dylan’s fists curled and released at the thought of any man hurting a woman. The notion hit him even harder now that he had a daughter. Let any guy try to hurt his Bel...

Anger roared through him like buckshot, exploding in every direction. He didn’t need to go there about his child. Samantha deserved his focus.

The next trick would be to locate her. He kept his hunt inside Texas, figuring she’d stick with what she knew. Austin was her favorite city, or at least it used to be. He’d lost touch with her after high school. Taking a chance on his hunch, he decided to start his search in the live-music capital of the world, guessing she’d go somewhere familiar.

Once he narrowed the hunt there, finding her would be easy. Apartments had managers who followed rules, so an offer of cash to pay up a few months’ rent would draw too much unwanted attention. She would most likely rent a house something near campus, so she could easily get around by throwing on a hoodie and shorts to blend in with students.

A quick internet search revealed there were 387 houses for rent in the city of Austin. Twenty-three when narrowed down to places on or near campus. Dylan put his resources to work finding out which ones had been pulled from the market the day Samantha disappeared. Two. With a fifty-fifty chance of success, Dylan gambled on the house nearest campus and checked the tenant. No dice. The place had been rented by four people. He hit the jackpot on the second.

He made a quick call to Ms. Anderson to let her know he had to leave town, and then located his duffel. The hope of being home by Maribel’s bedtime fizzled as he stuffed a pair of jeans in the bag. He packed a sandwich to eat on the drive—roughly four hours one way, depending on traffic on I-35—left a note for Ms. Anderson to read Goodnight Moon to his daughter after tucking her into bed and locked the door behind him.

* * *

DYLAN LEANED AGAINST a tree six houses down from Samantha’s. He’d driven his small sedan rather than his SUV in order to better navigate Austin traffic. Based on his research, a UT shuttle should be passing by in ten minutes to pick up college kids and deliver them to campus. With others hanging around waiting on transportation, he had a better chance of going unnoticed. With his six-foot-two-inch muscular frame, he looked as if he should be in athletic housing. Camo pants and the burned-orange UT shirt he’d bought at the gas station on the way into town should help camouflage him. Duffel slung over his shoulder, he did his best to blend in.

If Samantha was in trouble or being held hostage, he didn’t want to tip off her captor. He had to consider the possibility that she wasn’t acting on her own free will. Dylan planned to take nothing for granted.

His pulse kicked up a notch when she came into view, walking toward the front door of her rental alone. With a long and lean body like hers, she could easily be confused for a student athlete. Her high school years spent playing volleyball had paid off, especially with those legs.

He slipped on eyeglasses specially fitted with binocular lenses. Her smoky-brown hair cut in long shiny layers with bangs that skimmed along her brows brought out a deeply erotic shade of wide-set almond-shaped blue eyes. They stood out against her oval face. Samantha had always been beautiful. At least that much had stayed the same. She’d been smart, too. Her beauty had caught his attention. Her sharp wit and sense of humor had kept it. He hoped that she hadn’t gone and done something stupid. Surely someone back home would’ve noticed if she’d changed.

Sometimes good girls were drawn to men who were bad for them. So far, there was no sign of a boyfriend. Good. He told himself it would be easier to help her with fewer people involved, and he didn’t like the idea she’d be on the run with a man.

She glanced around, looking more nervous than afraid. Her long fluid layers of brown hair framed an almost too beautiful face and highlighted a graceful, swan-like neck.

Ignoring the rapid increase in his heartbeat at seeing her, he bowed his head and focused on the newspaper he held, pretending to be studying it as he kept her in his peripheral.

She unlocked the door, glanced left to right once more and then slipped inside.

Paranoid?

Dylan had half a mind to stomp over and demand to know what was going on. That would be a mistake. The simple fact was that he didn’t know what he’d be walking into and didn’t want to tip his hand. He slipped off the glasses and then slid them inside his duffel as the shuttle arrived. The crowd around him thinned, forming a line to get on the bus. He stood back, allowing others to crowd in front of him.

At the last second, he spun around, ducked his head and made a beeline toward her place. Moving around the side of the house, he crouched below the windows, careful to avoid being cut by overgrown holly bushes lining his path. He walked the perimeter, peeking inside windows through cracks in the closed blinds. From what he could tell so far, she was alone.

The back door was locked. It took all of three seconds to change that with his bump key. He slowly opened the door, moved inside the kitchen and listened. He already knew the layout of the house. Using the Department of Defense satellite, he’d homed in on the address and taken pictures of everything inside and out, to the level of detail of her furniture arrangement. Memorizing every inch of the space, every crevice, was a habit formed during his military days. There were two bedrooms and a kitchen in back, all of which had doors that led to a dining room. The master bedroom was off the living room. The place was set up like a maze.

Telltale clicks on a keyboard said she was on her laptop. The dining room was set up as a study room with tables pushed against the walls instead of a table and chairs.

Not risking chance, Dylan palmed his Glock, using it to lead the way.

“What are you doing here, Samantha?” He lowered his weapon when he was sure the place was clear.

Samantha jumped to her feet, the shock of seeing him evident on her face. It took her a moment before she was able to answer. “Me? I could ask you the same thing, Dylan.” The accusation in Samantha’s voice fired at him as though he stood in front of an execution squad. A mix of panic and fear crossed her features as she sat ramrod straight. Her gaze froze on his gun.

Her fearful expression tugged at his heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He surveyed the area. “Is there anyone else here?”

“Not that I know of.” Her gaze darted to the front door and then back.

“What does that mean?”

“Did anyone follow you?” The suspicion in her eyes hit him harder than a shot of tequila for breakfast, with a similar burn in his chest.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” More accusations fired in her tone.

“Yes.” This wasn’t the greeting he’d expected.

“How can I trust you?”

“You don’t have to, sweetheart.” He had no intention of hurting her. Her panicked expression ate at his insides. What was she so afraid of? Or maybe the better question was, what had she done?

He took another step toward her so he could really examine her. With her pallor, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “But it’s me. And you know me.”

“How did you find this place?” She didn’t seem ready to concede anything.

“The internet. It wasn’t hard,” he said casually, trying to use his voice to calm her.

“If it was easy for you, then he can find me, too. I have to get out of here.” Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat.

Finally, he was getting somewhere. Someone had her seriously spooked. Dylan shot her an apologetic look.

“Who are you involved with? A boyfriend?”

Her head was already shaking.

“Then, tell me who’s looking for you and I can help.”

She didn’t respond. He needed to take another tack. Get her in the car for four hours, gain her trust and he’d get closer to finding the truth.

“I can see that you’re in some kind of trouble. What are you running from?”

Her lips clamped shut.

“Everyone’s worried. Come home with me and we’ll sort this out,” he offered, hoping he could appeal to her on a friendship level.

“No. It’s too risky. He’ll find me.” That same frightened-animal look was in her eyes.

“Who will?”

“Thomas Kramer.” She shivered involuntarily as she said his name.

“The Mason Ridge Abductor?” Stunned didn’t begin to describe his reaction. No way. Dylan checked her pupils for signs of drugs, even though the Samantha he knew would never do such a thing. Something had her acting cagey. He saw pure, unadulterated fear in her gaze. “He’s dead, sweetheart. A pile of ash. Remember? He can’t hurt you from where he is.”

She stood there, trembling, looking lost. Damn.

Dylan made a move to step forward, to comfort her.

Her body stiffened, so he froze.

“It’s not safe here. He’ll find me.”

“What are you talking about?” Dylan held his hands up in surrender, slowly, because he half feared she would bolt otherwise. “I’m moving to the couch to sit down so we can talk about this.”

He walked deliberately.

She moved to the front window, peering outside through the slats in the blinds. “He might’ve followed you.”

The look of panic on her face couldn’t be faked. Something had her completely rattled, but Thomas Kramer was dead.

“Sit down beside me and tell me what happened,” he said calmly.

“I have to get out of here.” Her voice shook with fear and her eyes pleaded with him. She stalked back to the desk and reached inside a drawer.

“Stop right there.” The last thing he needed was for her to do something desperate. Dylan ate the real estate between them in two quick strides and covered her hand, stopping her from raising it toward him. He ignored the fizz of attraction sizzling between them.

Her left fist was closed around an object. He turned her palm toward the ceiling, noticing her white-knuckle grip. “Open your hand slowly.”

She did, exposing a fistful of cash.

“What’s this for, Samantha?”

“Nothing. Take it and get out of here.”

“You’re trying to give me money to leave?”

“Whatever you want, take it. Just go.”

“Rebecca sent me.” If she wouldn’t talk to him based on their history, maybe he could get through to her by using her friend’s name.

“She shouldn’t have,” Samantha shot back. “This is no one’s business but mine.”

That didn’t work. She seemed even more agitated. Maybe he could appeal to her softer side. “How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t. I don’t even know myself and it’s too dangerous.”

Dylan took a step away from her, releasing her hand, breaking contact before he revealed his body’s reaction to her. Even then he felt the tension coiling inside his body. “Why not?”

“He’ll kill me and everyone I love.”

Chapter Two

“No one’s going to hurt you, Samantha. And especially not a man who’s already dead.” Dylan fished his phone from his front pocket and then paused with his thumb hovering over Brody’s number. “Your friends are worried. I need to call and let them know I found you.”

She shook her head fervently. “He’ll know. I don’t know how but he’ll figure it out if you do that. And then we’ll all be in danger again.”

“Does this have anything to do with the phone calls you received before you took off?” Dylan wouldn’t rule out the possibility someone was using her fear of the Mason Ridge Abductor to manipulate her.

A look of shock crossed her features. She quickly recovered, smoothing her open hand down her jeans.

“I already told you.” Her gaze darted around the room, no doubt looking for an escape route. “You don’t believe me.”

Frazzled, frightened, she had the disposition of a cornered animal. And since that rarely turned out well for the person who tried to capture it, Dylan put his hands up, keeping his cell in his hand, where she could see it. “Look, sweetheart, you’re safe. I’m here. Tell me exactly what’s going on so I can help you.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. But Thomas Kramer is coming.” Eyes wild, she bolted for the door.

Thomas Kramer was dead. Someone was trying to manipulate her by using her fear of the past. Dylan dropped his phone and caught her as she reached the front door. Whatever she’d gotten herself into was clearly more than she could handle. He bear-hugged her from behind and pulled her far enough away from the door that the handle was out of reach.

She kicked and screamed, and her foot connected with his groin.

Doubled over, he tightened his grip around her midsection as he took a few deep breaths to stave off blinding pain and nausea.

He’d almost felt sorry for her when she was stumbling over her words, trying to distract him so she could bolt. But experience had taught him innocent people didn’t try to run.

* * *

“BE STILL,” Dylan bit out curtly. His thick arms were like vise grips around her hips, and it was impossible not to notice the solid wall that was Dylan flush against her bottom. She couldn’t blame him for his words coming out harshly after she’d kicked him in the groin.

If she could loosen his grip, she might be able to break free and run. No matter how much she wanted to confide in Dylan, she couldn’t. The Mason Ridge Abductor had returned, attacked her in the parking lot of her office, and then her father had disappeared after confirming as much and telling her not to try to find him. He’d told her to hide and stay hidden until he could sort this mess out that had begun fifteen years ago. And even though Dylan didn’t know it, she was saving him, too. He didn’t need to get involved and she’d said too much already.

The door was so close. She stretched her fingers toward it. Too far.

Drawing from all her strength, she tensed her body and then jabbed her elbow into Dylan’s midsection. If he could find her, so could Kramer, and her father had said the Mason Ridge Abductor would use her to force him out of hiding.

On some level, she knew Kramer was a pile of ashes, but someone could be using his name to hide behind.

Dylan coughed, ground out a few choice words and then spun her around to face him. His fingers gripped the flesh on her shoulders tightly.

She couldn’t budge. He’d made sure of it.

“Make another move and I’ll ensure you regret it.” He’d bent down to her level. Penetrating clear green eyes glared at her.

This close, his face was all sharp angles and hard planes, with a severe jawline on a squared jaw, intelligent eyes. Good-looking didn’t begin to describe his features. He wasn’t a pretty boy. No, this poster child for strength and general level red-hotness had the rugged looks that came with knowing how to take care of himself. His tightly clipped sandy-brown hair reminded her he was ex-military. No way could she get away from him going toe to toe, even if she was close to his height at six foot. Growing up with three older brothers had taught her a thing or two about her own limitations.

“You’re hurting me,” she angled, hoping he’d slacken his grip enough for her to escape.

“I’m sorry about that. I loosen my hold and you’ll run for it. I need you right here. It’s me, Samantha. I’ve said this before but it’s worth repeating. You can talk to me.”

“Fine. Let me go and I promise not to do anything stupid.” Even if he was determined to get himself involved, she couldn’t allow it.

“And I’m supposed to believe you based on what? Your word?”

“Yes. You are.” Looking into those green eyes, seeing she wasn’t getting anywhere, Samantha decided to take another tack. If he was going to believe her, she’d have to tell him something concrete. And yet he wouldn’t believe her if she did. She could hardly believe it. “Look, I know how crazy this sounds, but Kramer is either reaching out from the grave or someone is pretending to be him.”

He shot her a look that had her wondering if he thought she was crazy. She hadn’t thought about how all this might look to an outsider until then. There was a hint of curiosity in his eyes, too.

“You have my word that I won’t try to run away from you, Dylan. Now let me go.” She jerked her shoulders, surprised when he loosened his grip.

“Tell me something, Samantha. Because right now you look guilty of something bad, something that has you on the run, and if I didn’t know you better, I’d be calling the cops.” As if for emphasis, he picked up his phone.

“No cops. Promise me.” She rubbed her shoulders to bring blood back to them, trying to figure out what she could say that wouldn’t implicate her father. She wanted to trust Dylan, but she couldn’t risk it. If he knew, he wouldn’t walk away. He wasn’t the type.

“Sorry if I hurt you.” He motioned toward the couch. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

Sharp green eyes stared at her. He’d been wild when they were young, and there was more than a hint of that same feral tendency in his features now. “We can do this one of two ways. You sit willingly. Or I tie you up until you tell me the truth. Your choice.”

She moved to the couch and plopped down. Anger boiled inside her. Everyone thought that the Mason Ridge Abductor was gone, but he wasn’t. And he was coming after her. He’d surprised her, then called and threatened her if she didn’t meet him after she got away.

Dylan glanced out the front window and then focused those intense greens on her. Eye contact wasn’t the best idea, because when he looked at her, her stomach flipped. Dylan was easy to look at. She wouldn’t deny an attraction sizzled under the surface, one that had been simmering since before high school. Even with his bad-boy reputation, she’d always known there was something good about him deep inside.

“I was careful not to leave a trail.” The blood was finally returning to her shoulders. Bruising would be the least of her problems.

“Your lack of a path helped narrow the search. You were somewhere within driving distance because you used your car. I also knew you’d want an internet connection. Austin’s your favorite city, so I took a chance. From there, all I had to do was figure out which house you’d rented.”

She’d been that transparent? So much for thinking she could hide. Frustration burned through her. Too bad she didn’t have the criminal tendencies of her mother’s side of the family.

“I’m truly sorry about earlier. You know I would never hurt you on purpose,” he said.

She did know. Dylan was a good guy.

“I’m going to ask you again. What’s going on?” His brow arched and he was examining her face as if her head was about to start spinning.

Could she risk telling Dylan anything else? He already looked ready to strap her into the first straitjacket he could find. And what if she told Dylan what she feared? That her father was somehow involved or at least covering for someone else that night Rebecca and Shane had gone missing fifteen years ago? Or that if she shared what she feared, Dylan would be in this as deeply as she was?

The crackle of a branch breaking sent both of them to the front window.

“Don’t let anyone see you.” Dylan pulled her down, his strong hands firmly on her hips.

In the street, the screech of tires sent her adrenaline into overdrive. “We can’t stay here.”

Dylan opened the curtain in the front window and cursed. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. You haven’t given me anything to work with yet.”

“I don’t know who I can trust anymore. All I know is this whole thing is bigger than we originally thought.” Kramer was believed to have acted alone. What if he hadn’t? What if others had been involved in the crime or the cover-up?

“What ‘thing,’ Samantha? What are you talking about?” He stared at her for a long moment.

Could she tell him? She wanted to talk to someone. The past four days had been terrifying alone. She shook her head.

“This is a college town. There are people everywhere, so the noise outside might be nothing.” Dylan’s voice came out in a whisper as he surveyed the area through the windows.

She had to admit, having Dylan with her steadied her fried nerves. “Do you really think I’m crazy? Or involved in something illegal?”

“No. But I’ve never seen you this scared.” Dylan held out his hand. “Come back to Mason Ridge with me and we’ll sort this out.”

“I can’t go home.” She didn’t take it.

“You can stay at my house.” His expression had her thinking he believed she needed to be locked up in one of those high-priced sanctuaries by the ocean rather than his place, but to his credit, he didn’t say it.

Even so, she dared to allow a small bubble of hope to expand, the first since this nightmare had begun a week ago.

Another crunch noise came from just outside the glass.

“Stay down.” His gaze ping-ponged from her to the window as he tightened his grip on the handle of his gun. His movements were assured, graceful.

Even with him there, Samantha couldn’t relax. Not when a man could reach out from the grave, as Kramer had. What if the guy really was dead and all logic said he was? What if someone else was involved? How big could this thing be?

The little bubble of hope burst. Despair pressed heavy on her chest.

“Several men are headed this way.” The concern in his voice was enough to fry what was left of her nerves. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I told you everything.”

“I asked this before and I’m going to ask it again. Are you involved in something illegal?”

“No.”

“Drugs?”

“That would be illegal.”

“Is someone forcing you to do something you don’t want to? Are they coming?”

“It’s not like that.”

Dylan scooped his cell off the floor next to her. “Obviously, there’s something else at work here. I don’t like this one bit.”

With him on her side, she might have a chance of fighting back. Grabbing money from her account and disappearing had been a knee-jerk reaction. She could see how that might make her look guilty of a crime.

“You need to get away from me before anyone sees you.” Samantha hated the panic in her voice—the panic that had been beating in her chest like a drum since this ordeal had begun. The person claiming to be Kramer had been clear. Involve anyone else and he’d hurt them and everyone they loved.

“Do you trust me?”

She looked into his sharp green eyes. God help her, but she did. Of course, there weren’t a lot of options at the moment. “Yes.”

“Then, let’s get out of here.” He tucked his cell in his duffel.

“How do you plan to do that?” she asked.

The crack of a bullet split the air.

Chapter Three

Before Samantha had time to argue, Dylan had her on the floor. He needed to find cover in order to put mass between the two of them and the shotgun blasts firing toward them. He urged Samantha forward, crawling on hands and knees toward the kitchen. The feel of a body like hers underneath him, especially the way hers fit his, gave him a thrill of sexual excitement, but right now he didn’t need his body reacting inappropriately. Nor did he need the distraction.

The three-foot crawl space between the fridge and the wall in the kitchen would offer some shield. Guiding her there, he followed. “Do everything I say.”

Her cobalt-blue eyes were wide when she nodded.

Time to move.

Dylan shouldered his duffel and entwined Samantha’s fingers in his, ignoring the pulse of electricity vibrating up his arm. His vehicle was parked two streets over. If they could make it out of the back of the house, circle around and cut across the street, they had a chance to break free.

He carefully zigzagged through the bushes along the path, hoping like hell they didn’t run into whoever was shooting at them. With any luck, the shooter would be inside the house by now.

The glint of metal shone between houses directly across the street. That was what he got for wishing.

Dylan squinted against the bright sun, tucked Samantha behind him and ran like hell, darting side to side as he crossed the street.

Halfway across, a bullet struck the center of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. The impact, equivalent to being hit with a rubber mallet, knocked him back. He stumbled a few steps before falling on his backside and then scrambling behind a car so he could catch his breath. The Kevlar he wore kept the slug from piercing his chest.

Samantha’s scream made the hair on his neck stand up. She obviously thought he’d been shot. And he had been. But it was okay.

She dropped down next to him.

There was no time to explain, so he gripped her hand tighter. Dylan dragged in a few breaths, and then pushed on, hoping the shooter hadn’t readjusted, ready to fire another round.

Dylan guided them in between the buildings.

Forging ahead, he cleared another block and palmed his keys. His vehicle was in sight when he disarmed the alarm and unlocked the doors remotely.

If he could get the pair of them out of there, they had a chance at escape.

Dylan let go of Samantha’s hand in time for her to dash around to the passenger side and get in. She sat there, stunned.

Out in the open like this, they were extremely vulnerable to attack.

Key ready, Dylan fired up the engine and peeled out of there.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“They shot you.” The disbelief in Samantha’s voice indicated she hadn’t had time to process everything that had just happened. It was a lot for a civilian to take in, and she was doing better than expected.

“I’m good. See.” Dylan used his right hand to pull up his shirt enough for her to see his thin Kevlar vest. His left gripped the steering wheel as he wound through the residential area and away from the shrieking sirens. His focus had to be on the road as he assessed everyone they passed for potential threat. “I’ll end up with a nasty bruise. That’s all.”

“Okay.” That one word was spoken soft and small, almost without air. Her vulnerability pierced a different set of his armor.

He dropped his shirt and returned his hand to the steering wheel, checking the rearview to see if they had any company. So far, so good. One wrong turn and the story could change drastically. “We need to find the closest police station.”

“No, please. He’ll find my father if I involve the law.” The desperation in her voice had him thinking twice.

“Samantha, we were just shot at. You’re scared beyond belief. I believe you when you say you aren’t involved in anything illegal. So let’s go to the police and get protection.”

“As soon as this car slows, I’ll jump out. You shouldn’t be part of this.” She gripped the door handle. “Promise you won’t go to the cops.”

“Tell me why not.” That was the second time she’d specifically insisted he shouldn’t be involved. What the hell was that all about?

“I already did. He’s going to kill my father.”

“Who is?”

“Thomas Kramer, the Mason Ridge Abductor.”

“He’s dead, Samantha. He can’t hurt you.”

“You asked about the phone calls before.” Her voice sounded resigned.

“And?”

“I was walking home from work last Tuesday. It was late. I stayed to finish up a project and was the last one to leave the office. Someone jumped me. I was shocked, scared, but I fought. I somehow managed to get away.”

“Did you report it?”

“Of course. The police said it was most likely an attempted robbery. At first I thought the whole incident was random, too. When I told my father, he started freaking out. Made me promise not to leave my condo. Begged me not to get the police or anyone else involved. Said he’d make everything right. Told me to give him a little time and that he’d done a bad thing. I didn’t know what to think or do. I panicked. Took a few vacation days and didn’t leave my condo. Then the phone calls started. Someone saying he was the real Thomas Kramer said he wanted to meet. Said he had something of mine. He said if I involved the police, he’d kill me and my father. I stopped answering. When a stranger knocked on my door, I panicked again. I gathered a few of my things, waited for the guy to leave and then took off.”

“Sounds as if someone is hiding behind Kramer’s name. There’s a cell phone in my duffel. I need you to take it out,” he said.

“Please, no. Don’t call the police.”

“I won’t. Not until we figure this out.”

“Not ‘we.’ I need to lie low until I find a way to reach my father.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Samantha.”

“You can’t be here.”

“Why not? Whoever is doing this can’t hurt you or me. We’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m not leaving until we figure this out. I need to make a call to arrange a place for us to stay. Will you get me the phone?”

She blew out a sharp breath but didn’t immediately move.

“I’m your only chance, Samantha. You need to decide.”

“Okay. Fine. Where is it? Here?” She pointed to one of four zippers on the front of the pack.

“Inside the main compartment.” He didn’t take his eyes off the road. She’d find other things in there, too. Another gun. A hand grenade. Things she could use against him if she completely freaked.

“I found it.” Her delicate skin had gone pale. She looked exhausted.

“Look in the contacts for Brody.”

“Got him.”

A helicopter flew overhead.

Dylan glanced over at Samantha in time to see her hand shaking.

She drew in a breath.

“Call Brody and put this on speaker.” Dylan searched his rearview. So far, no one had followed them. He banked a U-turn.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Not on I-35. Whoever that was will be expecting that. And we don’t know how many people are involved.”

“Won’t he scour the city until he finds us?”

“He’ll try.”

Brody answered on the first ring. “What’s going on?”

“You’re on speaker and I have Samantha in the car.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes.”

“Rebecca will be so relieved. She’s been worried sick. You guys heading home?” Brody asked.

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Long story, but we need your help.” He didn’t want to repeat everything that Samantha had told him. It would only dredge up bad memories for Rebecca, especially since this couldn’t be Thomas Kramer. Thomas Kramer had acted alone. And Thomas Kramer was dead. Not to mention the fact that he was part of the breakdown crew for a traveling festival. Not exactly someone who had the connections or money to hire men like the ones who’d come after Samantha. The only person in town who could financially back an operation like this would be someone like Charles Alcorn, the town’s wealthiest resident. But it couldn’t be him.

Alcorn had played a critical role in the investigation fifteen years ago. Everyone in town had been thoroughly investigated. Dylan was getting punchy.

It could, however, be someone tied to Kramer.

Whatever game this creep was playing was about to end.

“What do you need from me?” Brody asked.

“Get me what you can on Thomas Kramer. I want to know everything about him. Friends, family, known hangouts.”

“You got it.” Brody cursed under his breath.

“Why him?”

“I’ll explain later.” Dylan cut a hard right and then a left. “But we need a safe place to stay.”

“Why not go to the police?” Having served in the military, Brody still had connections—connections that could come in handy.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll make a few calls and find a place for you to hide within the hour. I have a lot of friends in Austin. Until then, stay on the move. We’ll figure this out,” Brody said. “I’ll let the others know what’s going on, too.”

Dylan looped around downtown four times before the phone rang again.

“I have a location for you. I found a small place behind a bar on Sixth Street.” Brody relayed the address. “I would’ve liked to get you farther out of town but I figured you’d want internet access and you needed someplace quick. Plus, with all the foot traffic, it’ll be easier to disappear in the crowd. Big Mike is working the bar and he’s expecting you both. He’ll have keys and can give you any passwords you need to use the internet.”

“Hey, thanks, Brody.”

“Keep me posted. And good luck.”

Luck? He blew out a sharp breath. Since he’d left his four-leaf clover in his other pants, he’d have to rely on skills the US Army had taught him to stay alive.

* * *

SAMANTHA WAS BEGINNING to shake off the mental fog that came with the hard slap of reality that she was now on the run with Dylan. She shouldn’t notice his thick, muscled arms. Nor should she get too comfortable in the sense of relief being this near him brought.

If she was going to be running for her life, she certainly wanted to be with a man who looked as if he could handle whatever was thrown at them. That was a given. But feeling as though somehow everything was magically going to be all right because Dylan had shown up was naive, no matter how capable he was. And her father was still in danger. “What’s the plan now?”

“You tell me everything. We put our heads together and figure this out.”

“I already said. He’s going to keep coming until both my father and I are dead. Dad said as much.” She rubbed her temples to stave off the headache threatening. It was a potent mix of frustration and exhaustion.

“Then, we need to write another ending.” He touched her hand to reassure her but instead it sent fissures of heat swirling up her arm.

“We can’t hide forever. Whoever is behind this will find us.” She hated how weak and fearful her own voice sounded. But she was afraid. And there was no use hiding it.

Dylan’s gaze shifted from the rearview to the road as he jerked the steering wheel in another hard right turn. “We have company.”

Horns blared as Dylan made a few quick turns, navigating the crowded streets of downtown. Samantha’s “fight, freeze or flight” response rocketed through the roof and she battled against the urge to jump out of the car and set out on foot.

Traffic was so thick the black sedan couldn’t get close. Yet it kept pace with every turn six cars back.

Dylan muttered a curse at the same time Samantha thought it. With Dylan involved, she feared the threats against her, her family and her friends were going to be delivered on.

“I’m scared.” She hated admitting it, but acknowledging her feelings had always made them less overwhelming. Especially after her mother’s death.

“Think of what you’ll be doing next week.”

“What?” Damn weakness. Growing up in a house full of boys had taught her to fend for herself. Yet she was so out of her league here that her nerves were spiraling out of control. She needed to calm down and figure this out. Everything had happened so fast she hadn’t had a chance to process it.

“You know what I’ll be doing?” he said, his calm voice settling over her.

She shook her head.

“I’ll be picking Maribel up from school about now.”

The image of him, all muscle-and-steel man, tenderly holding his little girl, stirred her heart in ways she’d never experienced. She’d seen him at the grocery with Maribel a few times, witnessed his tenderness with his daughter.

“You need to drop me off somewhere and go to her.”

“I’m not leaving you alone, Samantha. End of conversation.” A mix of emotion played out across his features, determination rising to the top. “What about you? What are you going to be doing this time next week?”

“My dad invited me to go fishing with him.” Her dad. Where was he? What have you done, Daddy?

“Good. Focus on that when you get scared. Know that you will be sitting next to him on his boat, hauling in the largest catfish either of you have ever seen.”

“That’s his favorite. Loves the taste of blues.”

“The man has good taste.”

Samantha had a clear mental picture, and it was working.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Much to her surprise, it was helping a little. Then again, Dylan’s confidence was addicting. She’d have to work harder to ignore the sensual shivers his touch brought.

“Hand me the duffel.” His voice was level and calm, the complete opposite of the emotions still trilling through Samantha.

“Okay. What now? What do we do?” The sheer amount of foot traffic on the sidewalk and the streets made it impossible to get away. If they didn’t make a move soon, the driver would edge his way closer until he could get a good shot.

Dylan told her the address of the hideout.

“On three, I want you to open that door and run into the alley. Don’t look back. No matter what happens, keep going. Got it?”

“What if—?”

“One...”

The thought of splitting up and going in different directions had Samantha bracing for a full-on panic attack. She’d have to trust that Dylan knew what he was doing.

Given what she’d been through in the past few days, the idea of trusting anyone was almost laughable.

“Two...”

He glanced at her as though searching for confirmation.

She nodded and gripped the door handle.

“Three. Go!”

She pushed the door open and burst from the car, jolting toward the alley lined with parked vehicles until her thighs burned. Students were everywhere.

Dodging in and out of the human obstacle course, she ran harder as panic mounted. An icy grip around her rib cage squeezed. Where was Dylan?

She couldn’t even think of anything happening to him. His little girl needed him.

The sound of shots fired made her knees wobble and the crowds scatter. She steadied herself and charged ahead, fighting the urge to look back, knowing that losing a precious second of advantage could cost her her life.

Where was he?

The absence of those intense green eyes on her was like being thrust into darkness. She’d do almost anything to see him again, to know he was okay. The only reason she missed him was because she hurt for his little girl, she tried to convince herself. Samantha knew what it was like to lose a parent. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d become her lifeline in a matter of hours. Everything about his presence was soothing.

He’d risked his life to save her and she hadn’t had a chance to thank him yet.

The thought of doing any of this without him brought on deep physical pain. She told herself it was because of his professional skills and not because of his strength or virility.

Except he had Maribel. And what if something happened to him?

Samantha would never forgive herself.

* * *

DYLAN PARKED THE CAR and ran. He’d given Samantha a three-minute head start. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the bullet that lodged into the brick two feet from his head. As far as good days went, barely escaping a head shot didn’t rack up as one of them. With so many innocent civilians around, he wouldn’t return fire and risk a stray bullet.

Zigzagging in and out of buildings, he cut left.

Samantha had no phone or GPS to guide her. She’d have to rely on the instructions he’d given her. Since she was in an understandably stressed-out state, he couldn’t count on that happening.

Risking a glance behind, he caught sight of two men following him. Neither broke off in Samantha’s direction. That was a win. Now all he had to do was shake them. Her theory of this being carried out by Thomas Kramer disintegrated. He’d worked alone, and whoever was behind this had resources.

Dylan pushed his legs harder, faster. The guys behind him were already showing signs of fatigue.

Good.

As long as he kept his pace, he could outrun them. Ducking in between houses, he circled back. Samantha should be long gone, but if she was in trouble, he hoped he’d get there in time.

The whop-whop-whop of a chopper sounded overhead; no doubt shots being fired had drawn police attention. He slid underneath a Suburban and waited.

After sixty seconds, the chopper noise faded.

Glancing around, he noted that the coast seemed clear of foot traffic, too.

As he slid out from underneath the SUV, a blow to the head came out of nowhere. Dylan stumbled forward, checking his balance by grabbing the SUV. Without turning, he dropped to a squat and, with one leg extended, swept behind him.

The contact was followed by a clunk, confirming a direct hit.

Pivoting, Dylan covered the guy who’d hit him with a quick jab and then ran. He needed to locate Samantha. He could only pray that his diversion tactic had worked. He’d promised to protect her. The thought of her being vulnerable was a sucker punch to his gut. He told himself it was because she was counting on him and he didn’t want to let her down, and that it had nothing to do with the electricity humming inside him when she was near.

He blocked the image of her lying in the alley somewhere, hurt, out of his mind.

Focusing on their next steps, he decided his first action would be to change their appearances. The hideout would most likely have a much-needed change of clothes. He hoped she’d be there. Dylan covered the few blocks quickly.

The key was with Big Mike, just as Brody had said.

“I let in a lady several minutes ago,” Big Mike said. “Said her name was Samantha. She looked scared of her own shadow.”

After a heartfelt handshake and a thank-you, Dylan headed around back and climbed up the wooden staircase.

He slipped through the back door and waited.

“Samantha,” he whispered. There was no sound of her. With DEFCON silence, he crept through the small apartment. The living room and kitchen were clear. He moved to the bedroom next, careful not to make a noise. If she was there, she wasn’t giving away her position. Why did that make his chest swell with pride?

He pushed the thought out of his mind, reminding himself that women were good at hiding things when they wanted to be. All things done in darkness eventually came to light. What else was Samantha keeping from him?

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw movement to his left inside the closet. A curtain acted as a makeshift door.

Caution dictated that he make no assumptions. The person was most likely Samantha, but until he had a visual, he wouldn’t take it for granted. There was always the possibility that someone had gotten to her.

Damn.

Dylan took a step back.

The curtain burst open and Samantha sprang toward him. She landed with her body flush with his, and he tried not to think about how long it had been since a woman had been in his arms.

“Dylan. Thank God it’s you.” Shock was in her eyes and deeply written across the lines of her forehead. “I was so scared.”

“Of course it is,” he soothed.

She gulped in air and he could see her pulse racing wildly.

“I’m here now. Everything’s okay,” he said, holding her.

“They were so close and I heard the shot. Oh, God, I panicked.” She gulped another breath like a fish struggling out of water. “I—I—I didn’t know what to do, so I ran here as fast as I could.”

Another swallow of air.

She was about to hyperventilate.

Dylan could either slap her or kiss her to snap her back to reality. Since he’d never once lifted a hand to a woman and had no plans to start now, the choice was clear. He dipped his head low and pressed his lips against hers, half expecting another knee to his groin in return.

Shock registered when her lips moved against his and her fingers tunneled into his hair, deepening the kiss.

She pulled away first, pushing him back a step and glaring at him. “We need to figure this out.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “I was just trying to calm you down. I’m here as your friend.”

It was a kiss he wouldn’t forget anytime soon but a line that should never have been crossed, no matter how many times he’d wanted to do that in high school. Since high school.

“You’d do well to remember that.” Her breathing had steadied, but she was angry. “We need a different plan. I can go to one of my brothers’ places. You can’t be involved.”

“I’m sorry for what I did just now, but I still want to help.”

Her head was already shaking. “Not a good idea. He was specific. I should’ve just gone to my brothers in the first place and not tried to figure this out on my own. Then, you wouldn’t be here.”

Dylan figured he’d led this guy straight to her. What happened earlier was on him. His ringtone broke through the awkward moment. He immediately answered when he saw Brody’s name, noticing that he had a missed call.

“There’s no good way to put this,” Brody started, and an ominous feeling rolled through Dylan.

“Just come out with it.” This wasn’t going to be good. Waiting never made it better.

A deep sigh came across the line. “I wanted to notify you before the Amber Alert was issued. Maribel is missing.”

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