A RUTHLESS ARMY RANGER

Former army ranger Cole Sawyer reacts on instinct when he sees beautiful young widow Lisa Meador pull a gun at the bank. He foils the robbery, but when Lisa screams as the real robbers take off with her son, he realizes that things aren’t what they seem. Driven by a painful secret, Cole makes the split-second decision to join forces with Lisa and trail the criminals across Texas.

A DESPERATE SINGLE MOTHER

Haunted by his failure to save Lisa’s husband in Afghanistan, Cole is determined to help her rescue her son. But he’s even more determined not to give in to his growing attraction to her. As they untangle clues and face the potentially devastating loss of their quarry, they soon realize that the kidnappers’ motives run deeper—and darker—than they ever expected....

A LITTLE BOY’S ONLY HOPE

“I swear to you,” he promised, “they aren’t taking me alive. I’m sorry, Lisa—sorrier than you’ll ever know.” And sorrier still for what I haven’t told you.”

“Don’t. Please.” She raised herself onto her toes and brushed the fullness of her warm lips across his. The kiss was soft and fleeting, yet somehow it sent a jolt that blazed through his brain and body as if he’d never experienced a woman’s touch before. Desire gripped him, a searing need to turn and claim her mouth in earnest, to find out what it was about her that had somehow stirred that pile of cold ash that was once his beating heart.

“I’ll come for you,” Cole managed, his voice rough. “And, Lisa, if there’s any way—any way at all—to make it happen, I’ll be bringing your son with me.”

Relentless Protector
Colleen Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After beginning her career writing historical romance novels, Colleen Thompson turned to writing the contemporary romantic suspense she loves in 2004. Since then, her work has been honored with a Texas Gold Award, along with nominations for a RITA® Award, a Daphne du Maurier Award and multiple reviewers’ choice honors, along with starred reviews from RT Book Reviews and Publishers Weekly. A former teacher living with her family in the Houston area, Colleen has a passion for reading, hiking and dog rescue. Visit her online at www.colleen-thompson.com .

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Captain Cole Sawyer—Leaving his elite army ranger unit wasn’t easy, but turning his back on a fellow soldier’s gorgeous widow in her hour of need is impossible—as impossible as his growing attraction to the courageous young mother who threatens to take his combat-hardened heart by storm.

Lisa Meador—When an ordinary afternoon errand goes terribly wrong, this determined young widow will stop at nothing—including the kidnappers’ demands that she commit bank robbery—to free her only child. When a handsome stranger interferes, she enlists his help—never guessing the devastating secret that binds them.

Tyler Meador—Determined to be as brave as his soldier father was in combat, Lisa’s five-year-old son relies on his imagination, and his trusty stuffed octopus, to keep his fears at bay.

Lee Ray Hardy—Despite a long rap sheet and a bad drug habit, this career criminal has a soft spot for the kidnapped boy. But will that be enough to save him from his partner’s schemes?

Evie LeStrange—A violent sociopath with an ax to grind, Evie wants to get rid of her incriminating encumbrance—but only after inflicting as much pain as possible on a woman she didn’t choose at random.

Deputy Trace Sutherland—This by-the-book deputy still loves the ex-wife he’s been assigned to ride with, but will either of them survive her reckless disregard for safety?

Deputy Jill Keller—A near-death experience has done little to temper her gung-ho attitude toward law enforcement. But will her lingering love for her ex-husband finally make her see the light?

To those who serve and sacrifice...

and the no-less-courageous families who love them.

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Excerpt

Prologue

In a grimy motel room somewhere in Oklahoma, a woman picked up a newspaper left behind by the last occupant. No shock there, considering the general state of this dive, but the face staring up at her sent the room whirling around her and nausea squeezing in her stomach.

It was her, a brat in her arms, a brave smile on her face. A face the woman in the motel room would know anywhere, no matter how many years had passed. Because she never forgot any of those who had destroyed her.

Most of them, she’d paid back in spades already: the sadistic bitch who’d called herself a mother; the foster father who had raped her, brutally and often; even the juvenile detention officer who’d been such a hard-ass later—every one of them lying in an unmarked grave. But not the one who’d set it all in motion, the one she’d sworn on the memory of all she’d lost to repay—if she could ever find her.

A glance at the photo’s caption gave her the bitch’s married name, and a line in the article revealed the town where she was living.

The town where she would die—but not before she’d learned what real suffering was all about.

Chapter One

Lisa Meador was running late again, ridiculously late thanks to the passive-aggressive front office manager, who had scheduled her for yet another dental cleaning way too close to school dismissal.

Still in her scrubs following her long afternoon, she was wound up in knots and already thinking about her next errand when she swung into what ought to be the line of parents waiting in cars at her son’s elementary school.

Except there was no line. She was the last and only car. The last parent, picking up the last and tiniest of students, who stood with an impatient-looking teacher in attendance.

I’m so sorry, Lisa mouthed before her older-model silver Camry slowed to a complete stop. But the knot of tension in her stomach loosened as five-year-old Tyler came dashing toward the car, his huge smile seeming to run ahead of him.

It was the smile Lisa lived for, the one thing that had kept her breathing, putting one foot before the other, in the thirteen months since her husband, Devin, had been killed by a suicide bomber in Afghanistan.

Only twenty-eight when she was widowed, Lisa was determined not to dwell on the unfairness of her loss. Instead, she focused on the five good years she and Devin had had together and the tawny-haired boy whose antics kept her scrambling to keep up.

The teacher on duty, a plump, graying woman in old-fashioned cat-eyed glasses, did some scrambling of her own to beat tiny Tyler to the back door of Lisa’s car and hold it open.

“No running into the circle, Tyler, or you’ll have to miss next recess,” she warned as the boy clambered into his booster seat like a spider monkey. “We don’t want anybody getting hurt, now.”

“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Davies, ma’am.” Tyler’s back straightened, and his right hand shot stiffly to his brow in his best approximation of a soldierly salute. His dad’s salute, remembered only from Skype calls and home videos. Duty done, Tyler snapped the buckle and hugged his plush stuffed octopus in his arms before tacking on a worried “Sorry I forgot again. I’ll do better next time.”

Mrs. Davies flicked a pointed look toward Lisa before her stern pretense dissolved into a smile. Lisa understood, since it was hard staying angry, even for a minute, at the smallest boy and biggest live wire in the kindergarten class.

“I’ll remind him, too,” she told the teacher. “And I promise, I’ll be here earlier tomorrow.”

She swore she would keep that promise, even if it meant a showdown with the most vindictive office manager in all of Coopersville. Because as important as Lisa’s job was to her and Tyler’s well-being, she refused to give in to the reign of petty evil.

Once they left the school, she turned onto the town’s main drag. Her heart constricted as she noticed that most of the businesses had put out both American and Texas flags, along with a host of cheerful signs and banners welcoming home the heroes of the nearby base’s returning combat unit.

Devin’s combat unit, or what was left of it.

Swallowing back grief, she drew a deep breath and gave a silent prayer of thanks for all those who were coming home to happy families. Walking into their arms instead of being carried in a grim, flag-draped procession.

“I’m really hungry, Mommy,” said Tyler. “Can we stop for a kid’s meal? Please?”

“Sorry, sweetie,” she said, glad for the distraction. “We have to go get Rowdy—the groomer’s closing early today. And then we’re heading straight home for the good stuff.”

Tonight she was determined to cook her son a healthy dinner with some actual vegetables in it, no matter how stressed she was or how tempted by the idea of an easy drive-through pickup.

“But kids’ meals are the good stuff,” he argued. “They have toys inside.”

Sighing, Lisa mentally cursed whatever marketing genius had dreamed up putting kiddie kryptonite inside the cartoon-covered boxes. Tyler sulked, refusing her attempts to talk about his school day. Choosing to ignore the behavior, she soon pulled into the parking lot of a small gold bungalow, sliding into a space between a beat-up white panel van and a bright yellow Beetle with a

Buttercup’s Cuts-4-Pups bumper sticker.

“Come on, champ,” Lisa said with as much cheer as she could muster. “Let’s go bail out Rowdy. He’ll be so glad to see you.”

For a moment, Tyler looked as if he meant to balk, but apparently the thought of seeing his beloved dog—a rescue puppy she’d adopted on impulse two days after Devin’s funeral—was enough to get him moving.

Five minutes and fifty dollars later, they emerged with Rowdy, freshly shorn of much of his cream-colored hair. Once he reached the grass, the little dog rolled and peed and jumped and barked and spun like a deranged wind-up toy on the end of his leash. But at least the Lhasa apso mix’s excitement had Tyler laughing again.

It had Lisa laughing, too...right up until the moment she felt something hard and unyielding shoved against her lower back.

She didn’t know it was a gun at first, not until she heard the hiss of a woman’s voice in her ear. “Stay very still, and don’t scream. Not unless you want your brat to watch you die.”

Lisa’s eyes widened, and her muscles froze. Shock waves detonated through her; she couldn’t move or breathe or think.

But her eyes instinctively found Tyler, squatting beside Rowdy and rubbing the wriggling animal’s belly. Worthless as a watchdog, the animal remained as oblivious as the boy.

“That’s such a good girl,” the woman praised her, the menace clinging to the words redefining the word “evil” in Lisa’s mind forever. “Now get him in the car. We’re going for a ride.”

Never let an attacker take you to a second location. The advice floated up from memory, one of her police officer dad’s grim lessons from her younger years.

“You can have my purse. My paycheck’s in it.” Her voice trembled. “I’ll even sign it for you and give you the PIN for my bank card.”

The barrel ground painfully against her backbone. “One bullet in your spine, another in your head. And then I start on him, if you don’t follow my directions. To the letter. ”

“Tyler, honey,” Lisa croaked. “Tyler, in the car, please. Take Rowdy with you. Quickly.”

Tyler looked up sharply, his blue eyes huge and worried as his gaze moved from her face to whoever was standing behind her. “Hi?” he ventured, his voice very small.

“Better do as your mom says,” the stranger advised, and something lurking behind the iced-sugar sweetness of those few words had Tyler scurrying to comply without a word of argument.

As the pressure on her spine eased, Lisa dared to turn her head. Not all the way—she feared she would be shot point-blank if the woman caught her staring—but enough to get a peripheral impression of a taller figure topped with blue-streaked, unnaturally black hair, hacked unevenly to chin length. Dressed in black, too, all skintight straight-leg jeans and a tiny micro T-shirt that clung to small, pigeon’s-egg breasts.

“What is it you want?” Lisa asked as the white door of the panel van slid open.

When a skinny man stepped from the opening, fresh dread launched icy daggers through her system. He was slightly taller than the woman. His shaved head and the black chin-strap beard weren’t half so alarming as the wild gleam in his eyes and the way sweat plastered his wife-beater T-shirt to a wiry-thin body crawling with dark tattoos.

Could this be about rape, then, if not robbery? Did they mean to take her somewhere in the white van, leaving her child here alone?

Gut-churning as the thought was, Lisa knew that at least Tyler would be safe here. He would run inside the groomer’s shop as soon as she disappeared from view. Even if terror froze him in place, someone would soon find him. Then the police would call her sister, who would get here as quickly as she could. Who would raise her child if she had to.

Because Lisa knew if she got inside that white van, she wasn’t coming back alive.

“What we want,” the woman finally answered, shifting her thin shoulder beneath the strap of the oversize duffel bag slung over it, “is for you to take us all for a little ride in your car. We’re going to the main branch of the First National Bank of Coopersville.”

Confusion sent Lisa’s mind spinning back to thoughts of robbery. “But my bank’s the military credit union over on-post.”

“You damn well better do what she says!” the man roared, making Lisa jump. “ Exactly, or it’s over.”

Hurrying to obey, she fished her keys from her purse, then opened the driver’s-side door and got in. Before she could stab the shaking key into the ignition, the woman had climbed into the passenger seat beside her.

More horrifying still was the moment the man climbed into the rear seat, sitting right beside her son, who started wailing loudly.

As Rowdy, on the booster seat’s opposite side, began to whine, too, the woman thrust the gun toward Lisa’s face. “Shut the brat up, or I swear I’ll do it for you.”

Panic spiraled through Lisa’s body, a sickening physical sensation that took her back to the moment she’d learned of her husband’s death. She hadn’t been there to stop it, but she wasn’t letting this sick couple do anything to her son. Whatever she must endure, she swore she would keep him safe.

With that vow, an eerie, disconnected calm washed over her in warm waves, giving her the strength to turn to Tyler, to reach back and touch his small leg. “Tyler, baby. You have to listen. Listen to me, soldier.”

He responded when she called him soldier, coming to attention so sharply that she thanked God for this phase he’d been going through for months now. But red blotches stood out on his pale face, and tears trembled on his lashes. If she didn’t reach him right away, he would quickly lose it again.

“When Daddy was in battle, he had to keep his troops safe. Rowdy and Octobuddy are your troops now. It’s up to you to set a brave example, to keep them safe and calm.”

The anxiety in his blue eyes shifted; just like that, he slipped into the plane of childish imagination, a safe haven from this nightmare. “I can... I can be brave,” he said uncertainly.

She looked into her only child’s face, directing every atom of love and confidence she could muster toward him. “You can be a hero, Tyler, with medals just like your dad’s and generals coming to salute you. And Daddy will be so proud, watching over you from heaven.”

Tyler gave her a crisp salute, his moppet’s bangs falling into his eyes. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Lisa saluted back.

“Real freakin’ touching,” said the woman, a sneer on her thin face. A face and voice that nudged a memory Lisa couldn’t place.

Could she have met this woman before? Inadvertently done something to bring on this horror? Before she could stop herself, the question slipped out. “Who are you?”

To her surprise, the woman’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and she answered, “You can call me Evie. Let’s make it Evie LeStrange. Now give me that damned purse.”

As she yanked it away, then pulled a straw bag from her duffel and tossed it at Lisa, the backseat passenger hooted with laughter before the woman sliced her vicious blue gaze his way. He fell silent in an instant, confirming Lisa’s suspicion that “Evie” was calling the shots.

Heart pounding, Lisa risked a second question. “Why are you doing this to us? Have I somehow—”

A blur of motion preceded a sharp blow—the barrel of the woman’s gun striking the side of Lisa’s skull. Her vision dimmed as pain arced through her, but terrified of upsetting Tyler, she did no more than gasp.

Beside her, her assailant snarled, “Any more questions? Good. Now let’s get movin’. Bank’s closing in a half hour, and trust me, Sweet Girl Baby, you do not want to be late.”

Sweet Girl Baby. The familiar words sent a queasy ripple through Lisa’s midsection, but she was too occupied with keeping herself and her son alive to think about it now.

* * *

L ONG AND LEAN AND standing tall as Texas, Cole Sawyer strode into First National as if he owned the place. Months of doubt and worry over whether he had done the right thing mustering out of the army had all been vanquished by the letter of acceptance in the inner pocket of his jacket. The letter guaranteeing him a place in the next class of U.S. Marshal recruits two months from now in Georgia.

The army brass had hated losing a warrior in his prime, and his fellow Rangers couldn’t understand why a trained sniper, a hawkeyed marksman who could take down a camouflaged enemy a half mile distant, would “bail” on them. Why he would allow a single incident, viewed through his scope, to instantly, irrevocably make him lose his taste for the kind of clean kills that supported his team’s mission.

Better he should move his accounts rather than leaving his money at the military credit union, where he would continue running into his former comrades all too often. Where he would be forced to face their disappointment or, worse yet, their attempts to convince him that in wartime, people died, that he hadn’t been the one to kill them.

He was sitting in a glassed-in booth, filling out the paperwork to open his new accounts, when he saw the brunette walking past him toward the teller’s counter. After months of self-imposed celibacy, he couldn’t help noticing her, his eyes drawn to the curvy figure that her loose raspberry-and-white scrubs could not hide and the wavy, coffee-rich hair that fell well past her shoulders. His gaze flicked to a pretty face, no older than late twenties, and his heart jerked as he was slammed with recognition, followed instantly by guilt.

She was one of the widowed military spouses featured in last month’s article in USA This Morning—a woman widowed thirteen months before. Widowed because he’d failed her husband.

He’d known that Lisa Meador and her son lived in town still, had made a note of where she worked and found out where their house was, when he was still thinking of going to her and explaining his role in her husband’s death. Of begging her forgiveness for that one death, one of many. Somehow, though, his C.O., Drew Woodsen, had gotten wind of it and ordered him to steer clear. Cole would have gone anyway, if Woodsen hadn’t made him understand that his appearance would only amount to a selfish—and totally unnecessary—bid for absolution that would end up causing Lisa and her son even more pain.

Cole meant to drag his gaze away before she caught him looking, but there was something in her glazed, wide-eyed stare that brought him to his feet. Something he’d seen frozen on the features of the female terrorist in the moments before she’d self-detonated in the center of that crowded market.

Could Devin Meador’s widow be so undone by his death, or facing such financial hardship, that she would actually...

“Is something wrong, Mr. Sawyer?” asked the bank’s customer service manager, a stout, middle-aged woman with a sprayed blond helmet of a bob. Following his gaze, she smiled on seeing Lisa. “Oh, she is a pretty thing. A friend of yours?”

“Not yet,” he said with a wink he wasn’t feeling. “Would it be all right with you if I drop these papers back here first thing in the morning?”

Misreading his distraction, the manager laughed. “Anything for love. You have a pleasant evening.”

Cole stepped from her office, feeling for the concealed handgun hidden in his waistband just in case. Licensed to carry in the state of Texas, he had come armed only to safeguard the cashier’s check he’d meant to deposit, a check representing the bulk of his life’s savings.

Never in his wildest imaginings had he figured on the possibility that he might have to stop a bank job, a holdup by a woman radiating the sort of desperation that got people hurt—or killed.

He hoped his instincts were off, that his own guilt had him imagining things, and the look he’d seen on her face signaled something far more mundane. Maybe she’d been laid off or was behind with a car payment, not planning to resort to a federal crime. As she reached inside an oversize straw handbag at the teller’s station, he willed her to come up with a paycheck, or maybe a withdrawal slip or her ID.

He gazed across the bank lobby, but he found no help there. Only a big-bellied, older security guard looking at his watch. Checking to see it was just ten minutes before he could lock the doors and get home to enjoy his evening. Mentally, the man had already clocked out.

And why wouldn’t he, with no other customers in the lobby but the fortyish business type filling out his deposit ticket at an island counter and the pretty raspberry-and-white scrubs woman who pulled out a piece of paper and passed it to the teller before shoving her hand back into the bag...?

Where she was holding something, Cole was certain. Something that—damn it all—had to be a gun.

Though he couldn’t see the weapon, he knew it from the way the petite, red-haired teller stiffened and took on the same pale green color as the maternity blouse that covered the late-term swell of her midsection. Cole edged a few steps closer, his hand on his own gun.

His heart was thumping, adrenaline priming every nerve and muscle, readying him for a fight he didn’t want—the fight to keep everyone inside this bank alive, including his fellow soldier’s widow. No matter how justified the circumstances, he knew that any discharge of his weapon would trigger an investigation, which could easily result in his missing the start date for his training class. And heaven only knew when there might be another.

But no matter what it cost him, it wasn’t in Cole Sawyer to walk away from trouble, not the sort of trouble that could get a pregnant teller or a distressed widow killed. Swearing he wouldn’t fire unless he absolutely had to, he took another cautious step.

“Don’t scream, don’t even think of triggering an alarm, and you’ll be fine, I swear it,” Lisa whispered, the tension in her own voice like the sizzling of a fuse.

A fuse quickly burning toward a deadly detonation. Cole saw it all too clearly, as the teller’s green eyes widened even farther. She was about to lose it, about to give way to a fit of shrieking guaranteed to spell disaster....

A disaster he had the chance to stop. A second chance...

He took another step, trying to gain an angle that wouldn’t put the pregnant woman in his line of fire.

He was interrupted by a sharp cry of alarm, not from the teller but from the friendly service manager who’d helped him. “Oh, no!” Her terror echoed off the glass and marble of the room. “He’s got a gun!”

She was pointing at him, he realized, as Lisa whirled in his direction, her weapon rising from her purse.

Cole acted on instinct, diving to one side to avoid fire from both the robber and the security guard, and getting off a single shot of his own, a shot meant to disable and not kill. Because in spite of all his training and several hard lessons underscoring the damage a wounded combatant could still inflict, an older instinct guided his hand. An instinct prompted by the desperation in the brunette’s beautiful brown eyes....

And the trickle of bright red blood already dripping from her hairline before he squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Two

“No!” Lisa shouted without thinking.

At the crack of gunfire, she dropped the unloaded weapon Evie had forced on her and bolted toward the door, her mind consumed with getting to Tyler, who was sitting bravely with his dog and stuffed toy inside the car with a pair of stone-souled criminals.

“You screw this up, it won’t go well for him,” the self-styled Evie LeStrange had warned her. Lisa had done exactly as they’d ordered, complying to the letter, yet everything was self-destructing all around her.

The next few seconds unfolded in slow motion: the guard reaching for his weapon, then gasping and falling forward, clutching at his chest. For an instant, Lisa thought the tall man who’d fired on her must have somehow hit him. Had the bullet missed her and then ricocheted?

It was only then that she felt the slash of pain across her upper right arm, an injury that explained why she had dropped the gun. But she couldn’t think about that now, couldn’t think of anything but closing the gap between her and her car before the blue-eyed woman and tattooed man realized—

As her hand shot toward the door, something struck her like a freight train, but it wasn’t another bullet. Instead, it was the big, athletic-looking “hero” who’d wrecked everything. She screamed as the speed and force of his tackle slammed her to the floor.

“Please!” Too desperate to register the pain, she struggled to get out from underneath what felt like a brick wall. It was a testament to adrenaline that she partially wriggled free, staring through the glass door—just in time to see her car peeling out.

“My baby! They’re taking him,” she shouted at the man who’d grabbed her shoulders. “Get off me, you idiot! They’ll kill him if I don’t bring them the cash.”

* * *

“W HAT ?” C OLE ’ S brain felt battered by her words.

“They carjacked us and forced me—please! That’s my Camry they’re driving off in, and my son is inside. They’re getting away.”

In a fraction of a second, the pieces spun together: the drip of blood he’d spotted; the sheer terror in her eyes; the medical scrubs, sensible tennis shoes and tired appearance of a woman on her way home from work, not someone planning a crime. And she was frantic to get out of this lobby.

No wonder—if she was being truthful. If her son had truly been abducted by carjackers, waiting around for the cops could get him killed.

Another man might have left the matter for the authorities to handle, but if Cole’s recent experience as a Ranger had taught him nothing else, it had seared into his brain the lesson that even a moment’s hesitation could make the difference between a positive outcome and an unthinkable tragedy. Another Meador family tragedy to add to his account.

The hell with that, he decided, hauling Lisa to her feet. As he dragged her with him out the door, he tuned out everything extraneous, from the bank manager’s screams to the businessman’s frozen stare to the security guard’s slow crumple, his hand still clutching his chest. Most especially Cole ignored the folded letter in his pocket, the future that would mean nothing if he had to allow Devin Meador’s child to die to claim it.

“Get into my truck! We’ll follow,” he shouted as a dark-skinned man in work coveralls ducked behind a vehicle.

The panicked reaction made Cole realize he was still carrying his Glock in plain sight. But he didn’t give a damn about that; this moment was combat, plain and simple, one thing he understood. Act first and deal with cleanup when the smoke clears. They had to catch up with her car, which had taken a right out of the lot, then zoomed past a strip mall before careening around a curve and disappearing.

Desperate as Lisa Meador was, she still hesitated for an instant, clearly paralyzed by her fear of the man who had just shot and jumped her.

“It’s all right!” he shouted at her. “Get in. I’m Ranger Captain Cole Sawyer.”

Whether it was his rank, the mystique of the Ranger reputation or desperation to reach her son, she scrambled into his truck, a big black Ram that should eat up the distance between them and her sedan in no time. When he fired up the engine, he saw that he was leaving prints all over, bloody prints from where he’d fought to hold her down.

“That way.” She pointed out the direction the silver car had taken. “I’ll bet they’re heading out of town on Sunset.”

He zoomed through a narrow gap in the light traffic, setting off the squeal of wheels as he bulled his way in. He focused on a wreck just ahead, where a motorcycle lay on its side, its leather-clad rider climbing free. He took it as a sign that the fleeing car had made the left, most likely cutting off the cyclist.

Forced to slow to avoid hitting another driver who had stopped to help the downed rider, he turned onto Sunset Avenue, toward the tree-lined river, a perfect spot to dump a small corpse. He tried to wipe the thought from his mind, to remind himself of a recent news story about a Dallas carjacker who, after discovering a sleeping toddler in a backseat, had carefully dropped off the sleeping child in her car seat outside a fire station, where she was soon found safe. Maybe there was hope these criminals would have mercy on Lisa’s son, too.

But there were no safe havens along the muddy Brazos River, nothing but the rough dirt roads traveled by fishermen and boaters, or, more often, by hungry coyotes and scavenging feral hogs. So even if the boy did get dropped off somewhere alive, he and Lisa had damned well better find him quickly, before they lost the light.

As Cole zoomed toward the outskirts of town, small businesses gave way to well-kept older houses, many with equally well-kept gardens or pens containing a few horses or some kid’s 4-H heifer. After all the violence he’d seen in the Middle East, it was stunning to think of crimes as serious as robbery and abduction affecting this seemingly idyllic place.

“Tyler, baby, hold on,” Lisa murmured. “Mama’s coming.”

Noting her pallor, he suspected she was closing in on shock. “There’s a clean hand towel in the glove box,” he said. “You’ll need to put pressure on that arm to slow the bleeding.”

Not seeming to hear him, she kept staring out the windshield. “We’d just picked up our dog at the groomer’s when she shoved a gun in my back. Then she made me take her and her partner in my car.”

Making note that one of her assailants had been female, he repeated his suggestion as an order. “Get the towel out now. Apply pressure, or you’ll pass out. Then where will your son be?”

“You know what, Captain? ” she fired back. “If you hadn’t gone and interfered, this would already be over.”

“Maybe you didn’t notice, but that teller you were terrorizing was about to scream when I made my move. You think I was going to stand there and let an armed robber shoot a pregnant woman? Or me? ”

“If you’d just stayed out of it—”

“Are you going to sit there arguing until you keel over, or are you going to listen and help me save your kid?”

Her wide-eyed gaze flicked toward him, but after a moment’s hesitation, she did as he’d ordered, then returned her attention to the road.

“Buckle up.” Shoving his gun beneath the seat, he followed his own advice. There was every indication this was going to be a bumpy ride.

The click of her seat belt assured him she was holding herself together for her child’s sake. Probably wasn’t even feeling any pain.

But as obvious as her distress was, he reminded himself that, widow or not, she might not be the innocent she’d claimed to be. For all he knew, she could be a willing conspirator, one who didn’t trust her partners not to dispose of the encumbrance of her child now that their scheme had gone to hell. If she had really been so irresponsible as to willingly leave the boy in the getaway car while she’d knocked off a bank, she was a far cry from the caring mother the newspaper article had made her out to be.

Unthinkable as it sounded, he couldn’t rule out the possibility. Which meant that for the moment he couldn’t fully trust anything she said.

“What’s really going on here, Lisa Meador?” he asked, knowing that, even under duress, the use of a person’s name was the one thing most likely to gain his or her attention. Or cooperation, which was critical right now.

“How do you know my name?” she asked.

“I saw that article in the newspaper,” he said, though he’d known who she was long before that. “Your son’s name is Tyler, isn’t it?”

Tears leaking, she nodded. “He’s only five, and he looked so scared and little in his car seat. How can they do this to him, after everything we’ve been through?”

Compassion squeezed in his chest. So much for keeping his head and reserving judgment. If her son wasn’t really in that car with two kidnappers, she had to be the best liar on the planet. Or a truly gifted actress who knew exactly how to push his buttons.

Changing the subject, he said, “We need to call the sheriff’s office. Bring them in on the chase.”

The moment the words were out, a stomach-dropping realization hit him. Of all the damned luck. “Ah, hell. I don’t have my cell phone.”

Since mustering out three weeks earlier, he’d gotten back into the habit of never leaving home without it. Unfortunately, his habit of checking his pockets before doing laundry hadn’t been as quick to return. He’d cursed himself this morning, then ordered a replacement, which his provider had promised would be expressed to him tomorrow. Hell of a lot of good that did him now. “What about you, Lisa? You have a phone?”

“That woman took it when she switched my purse with this bag. Then she hit my head with her gun right in front of Tyler. I was so scared he would cry again and the man with the tattoos would...” Her voice choked down to nothing.

So she’d been pistol-whipped as well as shot, in addition to the emotional trauma they’d inflicted. Allegedly inflicted, he reminded himself, though his conscience screamed that he owed it to her to believe her. Owed it to her to make things right, though he’d been forbidden to make contact with her.

He drilled her with another question. “Tell me more about these people. Did you know either one?”

“Not the skinny man with all the tattoos, I’m sure of that. But the woman—” She pointed with the bloody towel. “Look. Is that a car?”

It had to be. Beyond a ridge of trees, a rising yellowish dust cloud indicated a vehicle traveling a rutted access road running alongside the muddy Brazos River, no more than a mile or so ahead and to their right. It was heading toward them, but the timing convinced him it had to be their quarry. Maybe they’d dumped her son, then turned around to head back to the main road and make their escape.

Or maybe all that was just a fantasy borne of his desperate hope that this rash act would quickly pay off. That he hadn’t just thrown away his future for a beautiful pair of lying brown eyes.

Chapter Three

As the truck jounced along the narrow, tree-lined dirt road, agony flared in Lisa’s head and right arm with every bump. Swallowing back a cry of pain, she gritted her teeth and braced herself. She had to get through these next few minutes, had to put her injuries out of her mind until she had her son safely in her arms.

She focused on that image, on Tyler’s smile beaming and Rowdy’s tail wagging beside him. She poured her soul into a prayer that the vicious Evie and her partner would drop him off and keep going. That all they’d really wanted was the money and not revenge against a helpless child.

“Hurry,” she urged Cole Sawyer, her senses so abnormally heightened that she cataloged every detail of the man she had no choice but to depend on. The strong hands on the wheel, the jaw set with determination, the steel-eyed gaze peering out the windshield—everything about him radiated power and the confidence of a man in his prime. As she would expect from a Ranger, his light brown hair was cut military-short, and now it flashed, tipped with gold, as he drove through long, low rays of sunlight splintered by the trees.

He might be helping her now, but she could not forget what his interference might have cost her. Couldn’t let go of her fury until her only child—everything that she had left of Devin—was recovered safe and sound.

The truck jolted through a washed-out dip, and black splotches splashed across her vision. Unable to will away the pain shooting through her head and body, she cried out as a wave of dizziness engulfed her.

“Hold on, Lisa,” he urged. “We’ll be on them any second.”

Groaning, she slumped against the door, her gaze drifting, drooping, until Cole said, “See? They’re coming this way. Tell me, is it them?”

It was like a hip-deep slog through hardening concrete, sucking in a deep breath and forcing herself to sit up. Finding the bloodstained towel and pressing it against her oozing wound, she welcomed the stab of agony to rouse her.

But it was the sight of the gun in Cole’s hand that brought her fully to awareness, that and the dark resolve in those flint-gray eyes of his. He meant to shoot the two abductors if he had to. But what about Tyler? He could be hit, maybe even killed, in the cross fire.

Fresh adrenaline surging through her, she focused on the bumper of the vehicle emerging from the trees. She clamped down on her terror and tuned out the roaring in her head.

“No!” she cried. “That isn’t my car.”

Her denial didn’t stop Cole from pulling into the center of the dirt road and blocking the beat-up sedan coming their way.

As the gun disappeared beneath his jacket, he ordered, “Stay here, and I’ll find out if this guy knows anything.”

“No. I’m coming, too. I have to...” Lisa began, until the trees, the truck, the entire world, spun like a whirlwind all around her. Before she could say more, the black splotches roared back with a vengeance, and she slumped a second time and went completely limp.

* * *

C OLE GRIMACED WHEN HE saw her pass out, though it solved one potential problem. If the other driver got one look at the blood on her, there could be a lot more trouble than either he or Lisa needed.

Climbing from his Ram, he waved his hands urgently, trying his best to look like someone in distress rather than a threat. The shaggy-bearded, graying driver in faded overalls stared at him, his expression a mixture of caution and confusion. Cole could not be certain, but he thought he saw the man reach for something underneath his seat.

Possibly a weapon, and Cole didn’t blame him, not in this secluded, rural spot. He approached slowly, keeping his palms raised.

The window lowered, and a wary squint creased the corners of the driver’s eyes. “You need help, mister? You hurt?”

He was staring at the smear of blood on Cole’s hand. Damn it. Cole had to come up with something quick to get the driver on his side with a minimum of explanation—and no suspicious-sounding details about a bank robbery gone wrong.

Improvising, he said, “I was coming home from work, and saw these two thugs, a man and woman, robbing my wife right in our driveway. Before I could stop them, they hit Lisa and took off in our Camry with our five-year-old inside.”

The fisherman paled, barely managing a low “Damn, mister.”

“We followed them to Sunset Avenue before they got away,” Cole said. “But when I saw the dust coming off this road, I thought—did you see them? Did they pass you? We have to get our Tyler back before they—”

“No, sorry. That was only me, comin’ up to grab the tackle box I forgot. No car could go any fu’ther back. There’s a big tree ’cross the road, and no way past but over.”

Cole cursed softly, his heart sinking at this failure. A mistake that might cost Lisa Meador’s child his life. “Damn, I’ve just given them an even bigger lead. I’ve gotta get back after them on Sunset.”

“You report this to the sheriff?”

“No time.” He shook his head, the knot in his gut tightening. “We have to hurry.”

“Wait! We need to call 9-1-1 and get you some backup. And what about your wife? Is she hurt?”

But Cole was already sprinting back to his truck. Leaping inside, he jammed it into gear and made a sloppy three-point turn, taking out a couple of small trees with his bumper. By that time he was past caring about any dents and scratches, or whether or not the fisherman actually called for help. Waiting for a patrol car would take too long and result in hours of interviews. He had to get back on the road and catch up with the Camry fast.

Reaching the end of the dirt track, he waited for traffic. “Come on, come on,” he said, foot tapping. As the clutter of vehicles passed, however, another glance at the unconscious woman stopped him from pulling out again.

A few more drops of blood had dripped down her temple, a startling contrast against her pallor. Full and parted, her lips had gone as colorless as a corpse’s. Which meant that her injuries might be more serious than he’d thought.

As badly as he needed to get going, he was seized with the fear that his bullet might have killed her just as surely as his failure had cost her husband his life. Throwing the truck into Park, he felt for the carotid pulse beside her windpipe, a practiced move he had repeated on many a military mission.

His pounding heart pushed into his throat, but this time, thank God, he was not checking a dead body. He felt the flutter of her pulse, more rapid than it should be, but she was alive. Determined to keep her that way, Cole found a first-aid kit he kept beneath the seat, along with a clean T-shirt he had stuffed inside the bag he’d planned to take to the gym later. Thankful for the basic combat medic training the Rangers had provided, he got out and went around to her side, then ripped the shirt at the seams and improvised a pressure bandage for her arm.

Every second delayed what he now saw as his mission, so he worked with swift efficiency, thankful to be finished before the fisherman showed up with more questions to delay them.

He snatched up an old army blanket from behind the front seat, then tossed it over Lisa to help protect her from shock. After slamming the door behind him, he made his way behind the wheel.

Strapping in, he pushed the pickup’s powerful V-8 to eat up the lost miles and within minutes overtook the knot of traffic that had delayed him. He deftly passed one vehicle after another until a blind curve obscured his vision and he was forced to flash his high beams at the clueless driver of an ancient rust bucket puttering at the head of the parade. When the car still failed to yield, he tapped the horn twice until the old woman finally pulled onto the shoulder.

After that the road unspooled before him in a dark, unbroken ribbon. He goosed the gas again, quickly gaining speed. But what if he was wrong, if right at the outset he’d guessed incorrectly that the kidnappers were heading out of town on this rural farm-to-market road? And what about the intersection he knew was coming up? Though they might well keep to the smaller roads in the hope of avoiding capture, that would be slower than the interstate.

Each option had its advantages and pitfalls, so how was he to choose the right one? And how could he be certain he wasn’t chasing after a mirage, a desperate wish to find redemption for the unforgivable?

* * *

L ISA FOUGHT HER WAY through the blackness, through her pain, and toward the son who needed her.

“Tyler,” she murmured, forcing her eyes open, blinking at the way the landscape had shifted into grassy hills studded with occasional rocky outcrops.

All too quickly, memory roared back and she choked down a cry. Bolting upright, she looked toward the man who might have cost her everything.

“Where’s my son?” she asked helplessly. “What happened?”

“He wasn’t down that dirt road.” A grimace tightened Cole’s square jaw. “They didn’t go that way.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure as I can be about anything right now.” He flicked an assessing look in her direction. “You feeling any better?”

A laugh slipped out, dry and mirthless. “You really don’t want to know the answer to that question.”

“There’s some aspirin in the first-aid kit if you can reach it.”

Though her head pounded with the movement, she picked up the plastic box off the floorboard, mostly relying on her uninjured left arm. She found the bottle but couldn’t open it one-handed.

Passing it to him, she asked, “Could you, please?”

He popped the top and handed back the open container. “Take that water from the center console. It’s not the freshest, but you need to drink as much of it as you can. It’ll help keep you from blacking out again.”

She forced herself to wash down two of the tablets, then finish every drop of the water.

“Thanks,” she managed, struggling to stave off the panic flashing through her brain like summer lightning.

“We’re coming up on an intersection with the interstate in just a couple miles. I’m figuring they’ll stick to back roads, since for all they know, there’s already an AMBER Alert out for your son. What do you think?”

Anxiety paralyzed her. Maybe they should make finding a phone a priority so the police could really activate the alert. But she couldn’t bear the thought of losing their chance to catch up with Tyler. If only she had some way of knowing which route the kidnappers might have taken.

A single thought pierced the fog: the final errand on her day’s list. “They’ll have to stop for gas soon. I was going to fill up on my way home from the groomer’s.”

“If they cut over to the interstate, there’ll be an exit in about ten miles if they backtrack or another twenty-five or so if they keep heading west.”

“If they stay on this road, there’s a little town up ahead.” She’d driven through it last month, on the way to a friend’s ranch, where Tyler had taken his first horseback ride. The memory of his laughter choked her, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to focus. “There’s a mom-and-pop store on the main drag—look, you see the sign?”

“Be pretty hard to miss that,” Cole said.

Large and crudely painted, the homemade billboard stood along the grassy roadside. Texas Two-Step, Gas-Groceries-Grill, 8 Miles Ahead, Y’all Come See Us!

Not far ahead, she saw a more official sign, with its arrow pointing to the right, indicating a connection to the interstate. And the knowledge crashed down on her that if she made the wrong choice, Tyler could be as lost to her as the husband she had buried.

* * *

A MPED UP ON THE candy bars she seemed to live on, his lover drove in a dangerous, lock-jawed silence that even Lee Ray Hardy was afraid to interrupt. He didn’t kid himself that “Evie,” as she’d demanded he keep calling her, did much more than tolerate him at the best of times, but the drugs were great, the sex mind-blowing and he found her fascinating, like a glittery-scaled cobra that might strike at any moment.

Might strike him dead, he dimly realized, but he was powerless to pull away. Especially as long as she kept him supplied with the crystal meth that had consumed whatever chance he’d ever had at an ordinary life.

Beside him, the boy’s eyelids drooped, thanks to the cold medicine Evie had used to spike the juice box from her duffel. Fighting sleep, he studied Lee Ray’s inked arms until his face screwed up with disapproval. “Teacher says you’re not s’posed to let people draw on your skin,” he said sleepily. “She says you can get in real big trouble for it. With the principal.”

In spite of himself Lee Ray grinned. “Yeah, well, there’s not much any principal can do to me that ain’t been done already,” he said. “Besides, these’re the kind of pictures that don’t come off.”

“Not even with soap?”

“Already tried that,” Lee Ray joked, though he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a bath or shower. It was one of those things he never thought of on his own, but Evie always made him before sex. Not that there’d been much of that since she’d grown so obsessed with tracking down the woman whose photo she’d spotted in some newspaper story.

“So you have to keep them always?” the boy asked. A cute kid, Lee Ray had to admit, with those drowsy blue eyes peering up from beneath the shaggy blond-brown bangs. And except for a rash of tears after Evie had ordered Lee Ray to get rid of that snarling, snapping little mutt of his, the boy had barely cried.

“Always,” Lee Ray answered him. “Don’t you like my tats, dude?”

Though he held on to the stuffed octopus for dear life, the kid peered at his arm and neck critically, then pointed at the scowling pirate on his left arm. “I like that one, sort of. Except he looks a little scary. You got any cartoons?”

There was one cartoonish naked lady splayed obscenely across his chest, but Lee Ray shook his head instead of lifting his shirt.

“No cartoons,” he said, “but you see this?” He showed off what once had been a decent biceps. “This one here’s an eagle.”

“Shut the hell up back there, will you? You’re givin’ me a mother of a headache, all that yackin’.” Evie’s warning sliced him, sharper than the look in her violently blue eyes.

It was a reminder, too, that he had no business getting attached to any rug rat. Especially not one his volatile girlfriend had planned on taking from the start.

He had no idea what she meant to do with the kid, since she’d never seen fit to clue him in on her plans. But whatever it was, he thought as dread tightened his gut, it was bound to be a lot worse than what had happened to the dog.

Chapter Four

The first of several officers on the scene, Deputy Trace Sutherland had never seen a damned thing like this in his sixteen years with the Tuller County Sheriff’s Department. Sure, the area had its share of property crimes and assaults, even the rare murder, but a bank holdup in broad daylight, with a hostage taken?

All around him, witnesses continued jabbering, from bank employees to the only other customer who’d been here, to another man who’d seen an armed assailant force a dark-haired woman into his truck.

“He acted like he just wanted to ask that poor girl for a date or something,” the customer service manager repeated as she twisted a wad of tissue into pieces. Her eyes wide and wet, she added, “I warned everyone when I saw him going for his gun. He claimed his name was Cole, Cole Sawyer, and that he’d recently left the army.”

“Probably needed money,” the witness from the parking lot interjected. “Lot of them veterans’re having trouble finding work.”

As the group rattled on, basically rehashing the few facts they had already given, a feminine cry interrupted from across the lobby. Excusing himself, Trace made a beeline to where the EMTs were helping the very shaken, very pregnant teller, who lay curled with her hands clutching her abdomen and her face screwed up in a grimace.

“Her water broke. We’d better get her on the ambulance,” said one of the EMTs as she and her partner raised the gurney.

“That’s fine,” Trace said, then looked down at the young teller, his expression softening at the terror in her eyes. “You just worry about yourself and that baby right now, Mrs. Rowan. We’ll send somebody to interview you about the incident once you’re feeling better.”

At least they would be able to question her later. The security guard, already en route to the hospital after three shocks had failed to restore a normal cardiac rhythm, wouldn’t likely survive.

If he did die, or if, God forbid, the teller lost her baby, their suspect would face charges of murder in addition to attempted armed robbery and abduction. Which meant they’d better damned well find the culprit fast.

Trace’s boss, the rotund but always-competent Sheriff Stewart, hurried over, pulling his phone from his ear. “We’ve got a report, some kinda chase situation out on Sunset. Suspect’s black Ram pickup appeared to be pursuing an older silver Camry as it fled the scene of a motorcycle wreck. Accomplice, maybe? Anyway, you take Jill and head out that way. I’ll have the dispatcher contact you with more info as it comes in.”

“Take my—take Jill?” Trace’s stomach dropped as his gaze cut toward the tall, uniformed woman now sorting out the witnesses, her sleek wheat-colored ponytail hanging halfway down her back. Not her. Not now. He wasn’t ready for this. What was she even doing working his shift today?

“Yeah. Her unit’s in the shop, and all our reserve cars—you know our budget issues. She’s been playing chauffeur for me today, but I can drive myself.”

“Yes, sir,” Trace said, because it was the only possible answer. He wasn’t about to hold up something this urgent simply because he dreaded riding with his ex-wife. They were both professionals, so they could suck it up and do their duty.

“We’ll see if we can track down this Sawyer fella’s plates and put out a BOLO on him,” the sheriff said.

“That’d be great.” A “Be On the Lookout” alert to all surrounding counties could easily result in a quick capture—and less time on the road with a woman who despised him.

A woman he would do anything to go back in time with to undo his mistakes.

* * *

“W HAT IF I picked wrong?” Lisa asked Cole for the third time as they sped toward the tiny town of Coffee Creek.

He had no idea how to answer, since all the what-ifs were eating him alive, too. That, and the undeniable fact that dusk was staking its claim. If they didn’t catch a break by nightfall...

“No more,” he said firmly. “We both agreed they’d be more worried about getting caught on the interstate than making time.”

She took a deep breath, clearly making an effort to pull herself together. He had admire how well she succeeded, how even under these horrific circumstances she was able to push past pain and panic, and do what needed to be done.

“We should stop in town. Ask around to see if anyone has seen them,” she suggested, looking stronger than she had looked earlier. Stronger than any woman should ever have to be.

He nodded his agreement. “We ought to fuel up anyway, pick up a couple things in case we’re on the road longer than we think.”

She hesitated before erupting. “I can’t stand this worrying and wondering if every tiny decision is the wrong one. If I should have stayed and talked to the authorities instead of dragging you out here, running off in what might be the wrong— Stop, Cole! Pull over here, quick.”

He looked where she was staring, into the unmown ditch in front of a fenced pastureland dotted with live oaks. Something was moving down there, too low for him to see.

As he skidded to a stop some thirty feet beyond it, he prayed he wasn’t seeing what he was afraid of. That the abductors hadn’t tossed a living child from a speeding car. He threw the truck in gear and bailed out, intent on beating Lisa to what might be a horrific sight, his instincts demanding that he protect her from it.

Despite her injuries, she was out of the truck and running before he was, calling, “Come on, sweetie! It’s okay. Come to Mama!”

She dropped to her knees as a little blond dog emerged from the tall grasses, yelping and wagging furiously as he limped toward her on three legs.

“It’s Rowdy,” Lisa cried, trying to fend off the animal’s frantic kisses. “They must have dumped him out here. Do you know what that means? We’ve been driving in the right direction after all.”

But as reassuring as that thought was, Cole was already running along the roadside, looking for any sign that the abductors, in their haste to rid themselves of their burdens, might have dumped a child, too.

Lisa quickly caught on, staggering after him and shouting, “Tyler! Tyler! I’m here!”

There was no reply, only the whisper of an evening breeze through the grasses and the screech of a red-tailed hawk in the distance.

They searched frantically, kicking through weeds and climbing down into the ditch, stopping periodically to call again, then listen. They found no sign of Tyler, not a toy or shoe or shirt. And not, thank heaven, his small corpse, which made Cole wonder if the boy’s abductors had decided they wanted to hang on to him for some reason. Maybe to hold him for ransom, or as a hostage in case they were caught, or, God forbid, for some darker purpose. One tiny, optimistic corner of Cole’s psyche held out a dim hope that maybe the female captor had buried maternal instincts and planned to keep Tyler for herself. Then, at least, he would remain safe long enough to be found.

A few yards distant, Lisa abruptly stiffened, then looked down at her dog. “Where’s Tyler, Rowdy?” she asked, her strained voice pitching higher. “Where is he? Where’s Tyler? Hide-and-seek, boy.”

The little dog’s ears pricked up, and he spun in circles barking. When she tried a second time, he did the same.

She shook her head, her face moon-pale with strain. And dangerously appealing, with the breeze ruffling the soft waves that framed it. Waves bronzed by the slanting gold rays of a dying Texas sun. “It’s no use. Tyler isn’t here, Cole. If he were, Rowdy would take us to him. If I’d been halfway thinking, I would have tried that stupid game the second we found Rowdy.”

“Well, I’m glad you did think of it, no matter when.” And gladder still he didn’t lead us to a body. “Now we can get to the gas station and find out if someone saw where they went. Then we’ll call the authorities so they can get an AMBER Alert going and apply some real manpower to getting your son back safely.”

It would also be smart, he knew, to explain what had happened and maybe extricate himself before she found out what his connection to her was. And if he got out in a timely manner, maybe there was some chance of coming through this without totally derailing the career change he had already given up the best friends he would ever have in this lifetime, along with his retired army colonel father’s respect, to pursue.

As they reached the passenger side of his truck, Lisa skewered him with a look. “Of course I want the AMBER Alert. But you’re thinking about stopping, aren’t you? About getting out of this mess and leaving Tyler out there somewhere.”

He was stunned by her perceptiveness, or was he just that transparent? “It might be in your son’s best interest if we handed this over to the professionals.”

“You mean in your best interest, don’t you?” A fierce light blazed in her brown eyes. “You’ll get to walk away from all this, go back to your cozy house and have a beer or hang out with your girlfriend and forget it. But I wonder, will you tell her how you were the one who started shooting and got my child kidnapped? The one who shot a woman with nothing but an unloaded weapon in her hand?”

Her accusations kicked his conscience, but they were far from the whole story. “First off, there’s no girlfriend and not enough beer in the damned world to forget this. And how the hell was I to know that gun in your hand wasn’t loaded? If you have to blame somebody, you might as well blame yourself for pointing it at me.”

“You startled me—or that woman at the bank did, yelling about you going for a weapon. I never meant to point the gun. Never wanted to hurt anyone or do anything but get out of that bank and buy my child’s freedom.”

Cole blew out a deep breath, forcing himself to consider the possibility that despite her tears and the fact that the dog had clearly been dumped, she could still be lying. Over the course of his career, some of the most impassioned pleas and speeches he’d ever heard were given by skilled deceivers out to manipulate the listener’s emotions. Out to exploit another person’s basic decency to achieve their selfish goals.

Maybe years of wartime service had hardened him, making him too cynical, too guarded, to allow himself to feel. Or maybe he wanted to believe that she was somehow involved because it was easier than dealing with his own debt to her family.

“Do you want to stand here arguing until we lose the light, or would you rather do something to help your kid?” Angry with both himself and the situation, he heard his voice coming out far harsher than he meant it to. Trying to make up for this, he opened the door for her, then scooped up the little dog, who limped behind as it kept one front paw raised. Gently, he deposited the trembling animal on the floorboard, sparing a moment to stroke its head to reassure it that he meant no harm.

Looking back to Lisa, he asked, “How ’bout you let me give you a hand up, too?”

He thought she would argue, refusing his offer out of spite. Instead, she sighed and nodded, clearly realizing how tough it would be to climb up into the cab without aggravating her injured arm.

He moved in close behind her. Too close, because the scent of her, or of whatever sweet vanilla shampoo she’d used, touched off an attraction as instinctive as it was unthinkable. But he smelled the blood on her, as well, a sharp reminder that their situation was deadly serious. After boosting her up to the seat, he ran around the truck and jumped inside.

As he started toward town again, he registered the fact that Lisa had bent over in her seat. Just as he was about to ask what she was doing, she shoved aside her straw bag and then sat up and showed him a spiky, ball-like seed between her fingers.

“Just a burr between his paw pads,” she said, nodding toward the dog. “Otherwise, he seems fine.”

Within minutes they rolled into the tiny town of Coffee Creek. What must have once been a small but thriving little farm and ranch supply stop had withered to a collection of boarded brick and peeling wooden buildings. Even the tiny post office had been closed, he noticed, but the lone holdout, the Texas Two-Step, had a handful of pickups and a peeling old sedan parked out front. There was no sign of her Camry, but he hadn’t figured the abductors would waste any more time here than they had to.

He pulled up to one of the fuel pumps and told Lisa, “I’ll start pumping and then go inside to ask questions. I want you to stay—”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said as she got out, carrying the straw handbag. Pausing just a moment, she gave the dog a pat. “Stay, Rowdy. I’ll be right back.”

Cole hurried after her. “You’re pretty bloody,” he warned. “You might alarm whoever’s—”

“Two crazy criminals took my son,” she snapped as she strode toward the low brown building. “Do you really think I give a damn whose appetite gets spoiled?”

The door jingled as she pushed it open and charged inside, as bold as any Ranger. And Cole could only pray that in her state of mind she wouldn’t start a panic—and that word had not preceded their arrival of a desperate bank robber and his female accomplice on the run.

Chapter Five

In spite of the bell that announced her entrance, none of the half dozen people gathered near the counter turned a head to look Lisa’s way when she walked in. Instead, they were clearly transfixed by a wildly gesticulating, red-faced man with his back to her.

“Then I watched that scrawny, tattooed bastard make off with my Explorer, right out of this lot. Where the hell’s that deputy?”

An attractive brunette in a blue smock gestured for calm. “Now, take it easy, Clem. I just got off the phone with the sheriff’s office. They’ll have someone out in no time at—”

“Which way was he driving?” Lisa interrupted. “And did you see an older silver Camry with a woman and my little boy inside?”

Every head snapped toward her, horror written in their faces as they took in her blood-spattered shirt and bandaged arm.

“Please,” she begged the owner of the stolen SUV, “you have to help me. They carjacked me in Coopersville and took off with my son inside the Camry. He’s only five years old.”

“You poor thing,” said the brunette, whose name tag read Karla. “You’re hurt, darling. Let me call an ambulance—”

“There’s no time. I’ll be fine.” Though pain hovered in the background, Lisa barely registered it.

“We’ve been trailing them in my truck,” said Cole, who had come in behind her. “I’m Captain Cole Sawyer, Army Ranger, and I witnessed the abduction.”

The firm authority in his voice demanded both respect and cooperation as he added, “We’ll need a plate number, and a good description of the vehicle and where it was heading, a few supplies and a quick fill-up so we can try to catch them.”

Clem was the first to recover from his shock. “You’ll find my Explorer?”

“The boy’s our first priority,” Cole answered, “but I’ll do what I can.”

A man with a bushy gray mustache and a cowboy hat quickly nodded. “I served our country, too, sir. Let me get you started with that fill-up.”

As he hurried off, Karla took charge, asking Cole and Lisa, “You notify the Tuller County Sheriff?”

“The kidnappers took my purse and phone,” Lisa said.

Cole shook his head, his mouth tightening. “And I didn’t have one on me.”

The waitress nodded. “Tell me, what do you need?”

In record time, Karla, who was apparently the owner, directed her customers to help gather up first-aid supplies, drinks, food and assorted other items they deemed helpful, while the owner of the stolen Explorer described his four-year-old blue SUV.

Once they were ready, Cole tried to press a handful of twenties on Karla, but she waved him off.

“Forget it.” Her compassionate blue eyes found Lisa’s, and she pulled something from her pocket and pressed it into Lisa’s hand. “Just get out there and find your little boy.”

It was a cell phone.

“Reception’s pretty spotty out here, but you’ll find places you can use it. I’ve got another phone here.” Karla jerked her chin to indicate a corded model on the counter. “I’ll look up the Tuller County Sheriff’s number and let them know what you’ve told us.”

“Please tell them about my son,” said Lisa. “If you have something to write on, I’ll give you his name and my Camry’s plate number so they can put out an AMBER Alert right away.”

“Of course.” Karla hurried to get her a pen and order pad.

“Thank you so much.” Lisa was humbled by the generosity and teamwork of these total strangers. And struck by guilt at the way Cole was stepping up, when only a few minutes before she’d been so convinced he was going to abandon her that she’d been willing to risk everything to stop him.

The weight of the straw bag on her shoulder reminded her of the item she’d slipped inside it earlier to ensure his cooperation, but she pushed regret aside to leave her information for the sheriff. As soon as she was done, she and Cole rushed back to the truck, though this time she insisted on climbing inside on her own power.

Heading in the direction Clem had indicated, they quickly turned onto an even smaller, southbound county road that Lisa had never before noticed, much less traveled. Out here, there were no streetlights, and the few houses were flanked by barns and other outbuildings. Stars were popping in the cloudless night sky, more of them by the minute, but they did little to relieve the gathering darkness, or the even bleaker blackness threatening to swamp her.

She couldn’t stand to think of how Tyler must be feeling tonight, scared and alone with those two monsters who’d taken him. Couldn’t put it out of her mind, not even when Rowdy jumped onto the seat and nuzzled her hand, offering whatever small solace he could.

“They could have split up,” she said, her voice shaking. “What if that woman took Tyler with her and went the other way in my car?”

“I expect they’ve ditched your car somewhere nearby,” Cole told her. “Probably figured it’s too hot to keep driving. We can catch them, Lisa. If Clem’s right about how long ago his Explorer was taken, they’re only fifteen or twenty minutes ahead of us, maybe less, since they had your car to deal with.”

They drove on, the bumping of the tires on the rutted pavement like an endlessly repeating song.

When she could endure it no longer, she asked, “Would you like a soda?”

“Yeah, sure—or better yet, one of those sports drinks. And you should try to eat and drink, too.”

“Forget that,” she said as she passed him a chilled bottle. “I’ll have something as soon as we find Tyler.”

“You need to fuel up now so you won’t keel over.”

The idea turned her stomach, but she took out a couple of wrapped ham sandwiches, passing one to Cole. Rowdy licked her hand, then softly snuffled, reminding her that he was hungry, too.

She groaned, her stomach pitching.

“Are you okay?” Cole asked.

“Tyler asked me for fast food.” Her vision hazed with moist heat. “I told him no, that I’d make dinner. I should have bought him something, should never have told him no.”

“I don’t know much about you, Lisa,” Cole said softly. “But everything I’ve seen tells me one thing. You’re a good mom.”

The kindness in his voice was nearly her undoing. She didn’t want his compassion, didn’t need his understanding. She wanted to hate him, to have someone to blame as much as she blamed herself.

“Before my husband left for his deployment, I told him not to worry about Tyler. I said I would take care of our son so Devin could focus on taking care of himself. I promised. ”

Cole speared her with a look. “What happened today,” he said, his gray eyes troubled, “is wrong. It’s as evil as anything I’ve seen in wartime. But get this in your head, Lisa. It isn’t because of anything you did or didn’t do.”

As his words sank in, they triggered a memory that pushed beyond the aching in her temples. The memory of asking Evie if the abduction was because of something she herself had done.

“The thing is... Remember how you asked if I knew them? Well, I think I do know her,” Lisa blurted. “The woman who kidnapped us.”

“Are you sure?” Cole asked. “Where do you know her from?”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I can’t remember. She called herself Evie LeStrange, but it was obviously a fake name. When I thought I recognized her, I tried to ask, to find out if I’d somehow done something to offend her. That’s when she hit me with her gun.”

“Tell me what she looked like, in as much detail as you can remember. Maybe that’ll help to jog your memory.”

Nodding, Lisa described the hacked, blue-streaked hair and the cruelly thin face, the blue eyes, the black clothing and the sneer. The more she recalled, the more convinced she became that something familiar lay behind the dark facade. “I’m sure of it now,” she erupted in frustration. “If only I could remember.”

“Could the name have some significance? Maybe it’s a reference to something. Have you ever known anyone named Eve, Eva, Evita...?”

Lisa shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“What about LeStrange? Could it mean anything?”

She tried to focus, but nothing came to her. When Rowdy whined, she absently pulled out a second sandwich and clumsily unwrapped it, then fed him small pieces. “There’s something about her, but the harder I try to think,” she said, “the further it slips away.”

“Then quit trying,” Cole suggested, “and maybe it’ll pop into your head a little later.”

As they drove on, Lisa wondered how much longer he would be willing to keep driving, how much more he would risk for a fight that wasn’t his. And how long it would take him to notice that earlier she’d pulled his gun from beneath the seat and slipped it into her bag in case he changed his mind.

* * *

T HEY ’ D GOTTEN DAMNED LUCKY at the last stop, Cole realized, just as they’d been fortunate when Lisa had spotted the dog.

But luck was like that sometimes, lulling the man who counted on it into the false sense that the breaks would always fall his way.

Cole wasn’t such a man, and he knew better than to believe, as Lisa seemed to, that all their problems would be over once they caught up with the Explorer. On the contrary, he feared that would be by far the most dangerous part of the equation.

He slid a look to Lisa, who was trying to force down a bite of sandwich while the little dog wagged his tail and stared plaintively, his front paws on her knee. He should have left both of them back there, where the kind people from the store could have gotten her help. Where she would be out of harm’s way while he did whatever he had to.

But her stake in this was so high, he hadn’t had it in him to deny her need to be here. That didn’t mean, however, that he would brook any interference with the rescue of her son.

“When we catch up with them,” he told her, “we’re not going to engage. Not until the authorities catch up.”

She put down the sandwich and glared at him. “You have to be kidding. We haven’t gotten this far just to follow them. Heaven only knows what they’re doing to my—”

“Do you want him back alive?” He spoke sharply, meaning to shock her. Judging from the devastation in her eyes, it had worked. “If we try to chase them, they might kill him. Or we might, if we make whoever’s driving wreck the vehicle.”

She chewed her lower lip, her eyes brimming. “Then what do we do?”

“Try to maintain visual contact without arousing their suspicions, and let the authorities know where they can find us.”

Pulling the phone from her bag, she looked down at it. “No bars at all. No signal.”

“Keep checking. We’ll get one eventually, or, if we’re lucky, the sheriff’s deputies will find us first.”

“And if they don’t?”

“We wait for an opportunity. A chance for me to take out one or both kidnappers.” He leaned forward, hunching over the wheel and staring at a flickering glow on the horizon, dark smoke billowing above it. “Look. Look up ahead. What the hell is that?”

Images roared up from his past: a crowded marketplace, the terrified, dark eyes of a woman in her clean white burka, a split second’s hesitation, then the distant concussion as the scene—along with Lisa’s husband and a dozen innocent civilian shoppers—erupted into flame.

But this was not Afghanistan, he knew, so he shunted the painful memory aside and rounded the curve, already feeling the horror tightening in his gut. Already smelling the smoke as the rear end of a burning vehicle, its nose down in a roadside ditch, came into view.

“That’s my car!” screamed Lisa, though only the blazing trunk was visible. “Oh, my God, Tyler could be in there! He might be locked inside!”

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