He had to do everything to get the babies out of there.

The sooner, the better.

“It’ll be okay, right?” Darcy asked without taking her attention from the infrared.

“It will be.” Nate tried to sound as convinced as he wanted to be.

“Noah will want his dinner soon,” Darcy whispered.

Nate knew where she was going with this, and he figured it had to stop. They would drive themselves mad considering all the things that could go wrong. He glanced at her. But stopped.

He heard a sound.

A snap, as if someone had stepped on a twig.

Nate turned, trying to get the rifle into position. But it was already too late.

The man stepped through the wall of thick shrubs, and he aimed the gun right at Nate.

About the Author

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why USA TODAY bestselling author and former air force captain DELORES FOSSEN feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

Nate
Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Chapter One

Lieutenant Nate Ryland took one look at the preschool building and knew something was wrong.

He eased his hand over his Glock. After ten years of being a San Antonio cop, it was an automatic response. But there was nothing rote or automatic about the iron-hard knot that tightened in his stomach.

“Kimmie,” he said under his breath. His fifteen-month-old daughter, Kimberly Ellen, was inside.

The side door to the Silver Creek Preschool and Day Care was wide open. But not just open. It was dangling in place, the warm April breeze battering it against the sunshine-yellow frame. It looked as if it’d been partially torn off the hinges.

Nate elbowed his car door shut and walked closer. He kept his hand positioned over his gun and tried to rein in the fear that had started to crawl through him. He recognized the feeling. The sickening dread. The last time he’d felt like this he’d found his wife bleeding and dying in an alleyway.

Cursing under his breath, he hurried now, racing across the manicured lawn that was dotted with kiddie cars and other riding toys.

“What’s wrong?” someone called out.

He snapped toward the voice and the petite brunette whom he recognized immediately. It wasn’t a good recognition, either.

Darcy Burkhart.

A defense attorney who had recently moved to Silver Creek. But Nate had known Darcy before her move. Simply put, she had been and continued to be a thorn in his side. He’d already butted heads with her once today and didn’t have time for round two.

Nate automatically scowled. So did she. She was apparently there to pick up her child. A son about Kimmie’s age if Nate recalled correctly. He remembered Kimmie’s nanny, Grace Borden, mentioning something about Darcy having enrolled the little boy in the two-hour-long Tuesday-Thursday play sessions held at the day-care center.

“I asked, what’s wrong?” Darcy repeated. It was the same tone she used in court when representing the scum she favored defending.

Nate ignored both her scowl and her question, and continued toward the single-story building. The preschool was at the end of Main Street, nestled in a sleepy, parklike section with little noise or traffic. He reminded himself that it was a safe place for children.

Usually.

He had no idea what was wrong, but Nate knew that something was—the door was proof of that. He prayed there was a simple explanation for the damage. Like an ill-timed gust of wind. Or a preschool employee who’d given it too hard a push.

But it didn’t feel like anything simple.

Without stopping, he glanced at the side parking lot. No activity there, though there were three cars, all belonging to the employees, no doubt. He also glanced behind him at the sidewalk and street where he and Darcy had left their own vehicles. If someone with criminal intentions had damaged the door, then the person wasn’t outside.

That left the inside.

“Why is your hand on your gun?” Darcy asked, catching up with him. Not easily. She was literally running across the grassy lawn in high heels and a crisp ice-blue business suit, and the slim skirt made it nearly impossible for her to keep up with him.

“Shhhh,” he growled.

Nate reached the front porch, which stretched across the entire front of the building. There were four windows, spaced far apart, and the nearest was still a few feet away from the door. He tested the doorknob.

It was locked.

Another sign that something was wrong. It was never locked this time of day because, like he had, other parents would arrive soon to pick up their children from the play session.

He drew his gun.

Behind him, Darcy gasped, and he shot her a get-quiet glare that he hoped she would obey. While he was hoping, he added that maybe she would stay out of the way.

She didn’t.

Continuing to be a thorn in his side, she trailed along right behind him with those blasted heels battering like bullets on the wooden planks. Of course, he couldn’t blame her. Her son was inside, and if she had any intuition whatsoever, she knew something wasn’t right.

Nate moved to the window and peered around the edge of the frame. He tried to brace himself for anything and everything but instead saw nothing. The room was empty.

Another bad sign.

It should literally be crawling with toddlers, the teacher and other staff members. This should be the last fifteen minutes of the play session, and the staff was expecting him. Nate had called an hour earlier to let them know that he would be arriving a little early so he could watch Kimmie play with the other kids. Maybe Darcy had had the same idea.

He lifted his head, listening, and it didn’t take him long to hear the faint sound. Someone was crying. A baby. And it sounded like Kimmie.

Nothing could have held him back at that point. Nate raced across the porch and jumped over the waist-high railing so he could get to that door with the broken hinge. He landed on the ground, soggy from the morning’s hard rain, and the mud squeezed over the toes of his cowboy boots. It seemed to take hours to go those few yards, but he finally made it. Unfortunately, the sound of the crying got louder and louder.

Nate threw open the broken door and faced yet another empty playroom. His heart went to his knees. Because the room wasn’t just empty.

There were signs of a struggle.

Toys and furniture had been knocked over. There was a diaper bag discarded in the middle of the floor, and it looked as if someone had rifled through it. The phone, once mounted onto the wall, had been ripped off and now lay crushed and broken on the counter.

He didn’t call out for his daughter, though he had to fight the nearly overwhelming urge to do just that and therefore alert a possible intruder. Kimmie had to be all right. She just had to be. Because the alternative was unthinkable. He’d already lost her mother, and he couldn’t lose her.

Trying to keep his footsteps light so he would hopefully have the element of surprise, Nate made his way across the room and looked around the corner. No one was in the kitchen, but the crying was coming from the other side. It was one of the nap rooms, filled with beds and cribs, and normally it wasn’t in use on Tuesday afternoons for the play group.

He heard the movement behind him, and with his Glock aimed and ready, he reeled around. It was Darcy, again. She gasped, and her cocoa-brown eyes widened at the gun pointed directly at her.

“Stay put,” Nate whispered, using the hardest cop’s expression he could manage. “Call nine-one-one and tell my brother to get out here.”

Even though Darcy was new in town, she no doubt knew Sheriff Grayson Ryland was his brother. If she hadn’t realized before there was something wrong, then she certainly knew it now.

“My son!” she said on a gasp.

She would have torn right past him if Nate hadn’t snagged her arm. “Make the call,” he ordered.

Her breath was gusting now, but she stopped struggling and gave a shaky nod. She rammed her hand into her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

Nate didn’t wait for her to call the sheriff’s office. She would do it, and soon Grayson and probably one of his other brothers would arrive. Two were deputies. And a nine-one-one call to respond to the preschool would get everyone in the sheriff’s office moving fast.

Nate took aim again and hurried across the kitchen toward the nap room. The baby was still crying. Maybe it was Kimmie. But he heard something else, too. An adult’s voice.

He stopped at the side of the door and glanced inside. At first, Nate didn’t see the children. They weren’t on the beds or in the cribs. But he looked down and spotted them.

Six toddlers.

They were huddled together in the corner with the teacher, Tara Hillman, and another woman Nate didn’t recognize, but she no doubt worked there since both women wore name tags decorated with crayons. The babies were clinging to the adults, who were using hushed voices to try to comfort them.

“Lieutenant Ryland,” Tara blurted out. Her eyes, like the other woman’s, were red with tears, and they looked terrified.

With a baby clutched in each arm, Tara struggled to get to her feet. “Did you see them?”

“See who? What happened here?” Nate threaded his way through the maze of beds to make it to the other side of the room. He frantically looked through the huddle so he could find Kimmie.

“Two men,” the other woman said. “They were wearing ski masks, and they had guns.”

“They barged in before we could do anything to stop them,” Tara explained.

“What happened here?” Nate repeated. He moved one of the babies aside. The one who was crying.

But it wasn’t Kimmie.

“They took her,” Tara said, though her voice hardly had any sound.

The words landed like fists against Nate and robbed him of his breath, maybe his sanity, too. “Took who?” He knew he was frantic now, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Kimmie.” She made a hoarse sound. “They took Kimmie. Marlene, the other helper who works here, was holding her, and they made Marlene go with them. I couldn’t stop them. I tried. I swear, I tried.”

Everything inside Nate was on the verge of spinning out of control. That knot in his stomach moved to his throat and was choking him.

“What did they want? Where did they go?” he somehow managed to ask.

Tara swallowed hard and shook her head. “They drove away in a black van about ten minutes ago.”

“Which direction?” Nate couldn’t get out the question fast enough.

But Tara shook her head again. “They made us get on the floor, and I can’t see the windows from there. They said if we went after them or if we called the sheriff that they’d come back and kill us all.”

Nate turned to run. He had to get to his car now. He had to go in pursuit. He also had to get at least one of the deputies out to protect Tara and the babies just in case the gunmen followed through on their threat and returned. But he only made it a few steps before he smacked right into Darcy.

“They took Kimmie,” he heard himself say.

But Darcy didn’t seem to hear him. She was searching through the cluster of children. “Noah?” she called out. She repeated her son’s name, louder this time.

Nate couldn’t take the time to help her look. He had to find that van. He snatched his phone from his pocket and pressed the number for his brother. Grayson answered on the first ring.

“We’re on the way,” Grayson assured him without waiting for Nate to say a word. His brother had obviously gotten Darcy’s call.

“According to the teacher, two armed men took Kimmie,” Nate got out. “They kidnapped her and one of the workers, and they left in a black van. Close off the streets. Shut down the whole damn town before they have a chance to get out with her.”

Nate didn’t hear his brother’s response because of the bloodcurdling scream that came from the preschool. That stopped him, and it wasn’t more than a second or two before Darcy came tearing out of the building.

“They took Noah!” she yelled to Nate.

Hell. Not just one kidnapped child but two. “Did you hear?” Nate asked Grayson. He ran toward his car.

“I heard. So did Dade. He’s listening in and already working to get someone out to look for that van. He’ll get there in just a few minutes.”

Dade, his twin brother and a Silver Creek deputy. Nate had no doubts that Dade would do everything he could to find Kimmie, but Nate wasn’t going to just stand there and wait. He had to locate that van. He had to get Kimmie back.

“I’m going east,” Nate let his brother know, and he ended the call so he could drive out of there fast.

Nate grappled to get the keys from his pocket, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. He tried to push the panic aside. He tried to think like a cop. But he wasn’t just a cop. He was a father, and those armed SOBs had taken his baby girl.

He finally managed to extract his keys, somehow, and he jerked open his car door. Nate jumped inside. But so did Darcy. She threw herself onto the passenger seat.

“I’m going with you,” she insisted. “I have to get Noah.”

“We don’t even know who has them,” Nate said. He dropped his cell phone onto the console between the seats so he could easily reach it. He needed it to stay in touch with Grayson.

“No, we don’t know who has them, but they left this.” She thrust a wrinkled piece of notebook paper at him. “It was taped to the side of the fridge.”

Nate looked at her, trying to read her expression, but he only saw the fear and worry that was no doubt on his own face. He took the paper and read the scrawled writing.

This was his worst nightmare come true.

Nate Ryland and Darcy Burkhart, we have them.

Cooperate or you’ll never see your babies again.

Chapter Two

Cooperate or you’ll never see your babies again.

The words raced through Darcy’s head. She wanted to believe this wasn’t really happening, that any second now she would wake up and see her son’s smiling face. But the crumpled letter in Nate Ryland’s hand seemed very real. And so was the fear that bubbled up in her throat.

“Cooperate?” she repeated. “How?”

There were a dozen more questions she could have added to those, but Nate didn’t seem to have any more answers than she did. The only thing that appeared certain right now was that two gunmen had taken Nate’s daughter, her son and a preschool employee, and they had driven off in a black van.

Nate’s breath was gusting as much as hers, and he had a wild look in his metal-gray eyes. Even though his hands were shaking and he had a death grip on his gun, he managed to start his car, and he sped off, heading east, away from the center of town.

“This is the way the kidnappers went?” Darcy asked, praying that he knew something she didn’t.

He dropped the letter next to his cell phone. “We have a fifty-fifty chance they did.”

Oh, God. That wasn’t nearly good enough odds when it came to rescuing Noah. “I should get in my car and go in the opposite direction. That way we can cover both ends of town.”

“Grayson will do that,” Nate snarled. He aimed a glare at her. “Besides, what good would you do going up against two armed men?”

“What good could I do?” Darcy practically yelled. “They have my son, and I’ll get him back.” Even though she didn’t have a gun or any training in how to fight off bad guys. Still, she had a mother’s love for her child, and that could overcome anything.

She hoped.

“You’ll get yourself killed and maybe the children hurt,” Nate fired back. “I’m not going to let you do that.” And it wasn’t exactly a suggestion.

He was right, of course. She hated that, but it was true. Even if she managed to find the van, she stood little chance of getting past two armed men, especially since she didn’t want to give them any reason to fire shots. Not with her baby in that vehicle.

Nate flew past the last of the buildings but then slammed on the brakes. For a moment she thought he’d spotted the van. But no such luck. He was stopping for the dark blue truck that was coming from the opposition direction.

“My brother Dade,” Nate told her. “He might have some news that’ll help us narrow the search.”

Good. She was aware that Nate had a slew of brothers, all in law enforcement. And she was also aware that Dade was a deputy sheriff since only two months earlier he’d been involved in the investigation of one of her former clients. A client killed in a shootout with Nate.

The two vehicles screeched to a stop side by side, and both men put down the windows. Darcy ducked down a little so she could see the man in the driver’s seat of the truck.

Yes, definitely Nate’s brother.

He had the same midnight-black hair. The same icy eyes. But Dade looked like a rougher version of his brother, who had obviously just come from his job in SAPD. Nate wore jeans but with a crisp gray shirt and black jacket. Dade looked as if he’d just climbed out of the saddle, with his denim shirt and battered Stetson.

The brothers exchanged glances. Brief ones. But it felt as if a thousand things passed silently between them. “Anything?” Nate asked.

Dade’s troubled eyes conveyed his answer before he even spoke. “Not yet.”

“There was a note,” Nate said, handing it through the window to his brother. He immediately started to slap the fingers of his left hand on the steering wheel. He was obviously eager to leave and so was Darcy. “Later I need it bagged and checked for prints.”

Later. After they’d rescued the children. Darcy didn’t want to think beyond that.

“Once one of the other deputies arrives at the preschool, I’ll be out to help you look,” Dade offered. “Was anyone in the building hurt?”

Nate shook his head. “It looked like a smash and grab. Entry through the side door. No signs of … blood.”

Dade returned the nod. “Good. Hang in there. We’ll find these goons, and we’ll find Kimmie.”

Nate gave Dade one last brief look, maybe to thank him, and he hit the accelerator again. He sped off in the opposite direction of his brother while he fired glances all around. He wasn’t just checking Main Street but all of the side roads and parking lots.

Silver Creek wasn’t a large town, but there was a solid quarter mile of shops and houses on Main Street. And there were no assurances that the kidnappers would stay on the main road. Most of the side streets wound their way back to the highway, and that terrified her. Because if the kidnappers made it to the highway, it was just a few miles to the interstate.

“I have to do something,” she mumbled. Darcy couldn’t stop the panic. Nor the fear. It was building like a pressure cooker inside her as Nate sped past each building.

“You can do something.” Nate’s voice was strained, like the muscles in his face. “You can keep watch for that van and try to figure out why those men did this.”

That didn’t settle the panic, but it did cause her to freeze. Why had those men done this? Why had they specifically taken Nate’s daughter and her son?

“You’re a cop,” she blurted out. “This could be connected to something you’ve done. Maybe someone has a grudge because you arrested him.” It was a possible motive. And that caused anger to replace some of the panic. “This could be your fault.”

It wasn’t reasonable, but by God she wasn’t in a reasonable kind of mood. She wanted her son back.

Nate kept his attention nailed to the road, but he also scowled. He clearly wasn’t pleased with her accusation. Or with her. But then he always scowled when she was around.

“If this is my fault, then why did they take your son?” Nate asked.

She opened her mouth to explain that away, but she couldn’t. Darcy could only sit there and let that sink in. It didn’t sink in well.

“If I counted right, there were eight toddlers in that play group today. Eight,” he spat out with his teeth semi-clenched. “And they only took ours. They said cooperate or we’d never see our babies again. Our babies,” he emphasized. “So what the devil did you do to bring this down on us? You’re the one who likes to muck around with slime.”

She shook her head, trying to get out the denial. Yes, she was a defense attorney. She’d even successfully defended the man who’d originally been arrested for masterminding the murder of Nate’s wife. But that was resolved. His wife’s killer was now dead, and so was her former client Charles Brennan.

But he hadn’t been her only client.

In the past she had indeed defended people with shady reputations, and in some cases she hadn’t been successful. Maybe one of those less-than-stellar clients was holding a grudge.

Oh, mercy. Nate was right. This could all be her fault.

The tears came. She’d been fighting them from the moment she realized something was wrong in the preschool, but she lost that fight now.

“I need you to keep watch,” Nate growled. “You can’t do that if you’re crying, so dry your eyes and help me look for that van.”

“But this is my fault.” She tried to choke back a sob but failed at that, too.

“Stop thinking like a mother for just a second. They took both children so it’s connected to both of us. Not just me. Not just you. Both.”

Her gaze flew to his, and she met his frosty-metal eyes. The raw emotions of the moment were still there, deep in those shades of gray, but she could also see the cop now. Here was the formidable opponent she’d come up against in the past.

“The man who killed your wife is dead,” she reminded him. “And so is the person who hired him.”

“Wesley Dent isn’t in jail,” Nate provided. He took his attention off her and put it back on the road.

Yes. Wesley Dent was her client. A San Antonio man under investigation for poisoning his wife. Dent had retained her a few days after his wife’s death because he was concerned about the accusatory tone the police were taking with him. She’d accompanied him to several interviews and had successfully argued to put limits on the search warrant that was being issued for his house and vehicles.

And the lead investigator in the case was none other than Nate.

Darcy gave that some thought and shook her head. “I don’t think Wesley Dent would do this. I’m not even sure he’s capable of poisoning anyone.”

“He’s guilty,” Nate said with the complete confidence that only a cop could have.

Darcy was far from convinced of that, but to the best of her knowledge, Dent was the only thing that connected Nate and her. Still, it didn’t matter at this point if Dent was the one responsible. They needed to find the van.

Nate’s cell phone rang, and without picking it up, he jabbed the button to answer the call on speaker.

“It’s Grayson,” the caller said.

The sheriff, and from what she’d heard, a very capable lawman. Darcy held her breath, praying that he had good news.

“Anything?” Nate immediately asked.

“No. But we’re putting everything in place.” He paused just a second. “Dade said you have Ms. Burkhart in the vehicle with you.”

“Yeah. She jumped in as I was driving away.”

The sheriff mumbled something she didn’t catch, but it sounded like profanity. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that if you find this van, you should wait for backup. You two shouldn’t try to do this alone.”

Nate paused, too. “No, we shouldn’t. But if I see that van, nothing is going to stop me. Just make sure you have a noose around the area. I don’t want them getting away.”

“They won’t. Now, tell me about this note you gave Dade.”

“It said, ‘Nate Ryland and Darcy Burkhart, we have them. Cooperate or you’ll never see your babies again.’ And yes, I know what that means.” Nate tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “They won’t harm the children because they want them for leverage. I think this is connected to a man named Wesley Dent. Call my captain and have Dent brought in for questioning. Beat the truth out of him if necessary.”

Darcy knew she should object to that. She believed in the law with her whole heart. But her son’s safety suddenly seemed above the law.

“I don’t suppose it’d do any good to ask you to come back to the station,” Grayson said. “We have plenty of people out looking for the van.”

“I’m not coming back. Not until—” Nate’s eyes widened, and she followed his gaze to what had grabbed his attention.

Oh, mercy. There was a black van on the side street. It was moving but not at a high speed.

Noah could be in there.

“I just spotted the possible escape vehicle on Elmore Road,” Nate relayed to his brother. “It’s on the move, and I’m in pursuit.”

Nate turned his car on what had to be two wheels at most, and with the tires squealing, he maneuvered onto the narrow road. There were houses here, spaced far apart, but thankfully there didn’t seem to be any other traffic. Good thing, too, because Nate floored the accelerator and tore through the normally quiet neighborhood.

So did the driver of the van.

He sped up, which meant he had no doubt seen them. Not that she’d expected them to be able to sneak up on the vehicle, but Darcy had hoped they would be able to get closer so she could look inside the windows.

Nate read off the license-plate number to his brother, who was still on the line, though she could hear the sheriff making other calls. Grayson was assembling backup for Nate. She only prayed they wouldn’t need it, that they could resolve this here and now.

“Can you try to shoot out the tires or something?” she asked.

“Not with the kids inside. Too risky.”

Of course, it was. She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly and wouldn’t until she had her baby safely in her arms. “How will we get it to stop?”

“Grayson will have someone at the other end of this road. Once the guy realizes he can’t escape, he’ll stop.”

Maybe. And maybe that shoot-out would happen, after all. Darcy tried not to give in to the fear, but she got a double dose of it when the van sped over a hill and disappeared out of sight.

“Are there side roads?” she asked. She’d never been on Elmore or in this particular part of Silver Creek.

“Yeah. Side roads and old ranch trails.”

That didn’t help with the fear, and she held her breath until Nate’s car barreled over the hill. There, about a quarter of a mile in front of them, she could see the van. But not for long. The driver went around a deep curve and disappeared again.

It seemed to take hours for Nate to reach that same curve, and he was going so fast that he had to grapple with the steering wheel to remain in control. The tires on her side scraped against the gravel shoulder and sent a spray of rocks pelting into the car’s undercarriage. It sounded like gunshots, and that made her terror worse.

They came out of the curve, only to go right into another one. Nate seemed to realize it was coming because he was already steering in that direction.

Darcy prayed that it wouldn’t be much longer before Grayson or someone else approached from the other side of the road so they could stop this chase. She didn’t want to risk the van crashing into one of the trees that dotted the sides of the road.

She could hear the chatter on Nate’s cell, which was still on speaker. People were responding. Everything was in motion, but the truth was Nate and she were the ones who were closest to the van. They were their children’s best bet for rescue.

“Hold on,” Nate warned as he took another turn. “And put on your seat belt.”

Her hands were shaking, but she managed to get the belt pulled across her. She was still fumbling with the latch when their car came out of yet another curve followed by a hill.

The moment they reached the top of the hill, she saw the van.

And Darcy’s heart went to her knees.

“Stop!” she yelled.

Nate was already trying to do just that. He slammed on the brakes. But they were going too fast. And the van was sideways, right in the middle of the road. The vehicle wasn’t moving, and there was no way for Nate to avoid it.

Darcy screamed.

Just as they crashed head-on into the black van.

Chapter Three

Nate heard the screech of his brakes as the asphalt ripped away at the tires. There was nothing he could do.

Nothing.

Except pray and try to brace himself for the impact.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The car slammed into the van, tossing Darcy and him around like rag dolls. The air bags deployed, slapping into them and sending a cloud of the powdery dust all through the car’s interior.

It was all over in a split second. The whiplashing impact. The sounds of metal colliding with metal.

Nate was aware of the pain in his body from having his muscles wrenched around. The mix of talc and cornstarch powder from the air bag robbed him of what little breath he had. But now that he realized he had survived the crash, he had one goal.

To get to the children.

Nate prayed they hadn’t been hurt.

He lifted his head, trying to listen. He didn’t hear anyone crying or anyone moaning in pain. That could be good.

Or very bad.

Next to him, Darcy began to punch at the air bag that had pinned her to the seat. He glanced at her, just to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured. She had a few nicks on her face from the air bag, and her shoulder-length dark brown hair was now frosted with the talc mixture, but she was fighting as hard as he was to get out of the vehicle. No doubt to check on her son.

“When we get out, stay behind me and let me do the talking,” Nate warned her.

Though he doubted his warning would do any good. If the kidnappers hadn’t been injured or, better yet, incapacitated, then this was going to get ugly fast.

Nate got a better grip on his gun and opened his door. Or rather, that’s what he tried to do. The door was jammed, and he had to throw his weight against it to force it open. He got out, his boots sinking into the soggy shoulder of the road, and got a good look at the damage. The front end of his car was a mangled heap, and it had crumpled the side of the van, creating a deep V in the exterior.

Still no sounds of crying. In fact, there were no sounds at all coming from the van.

“I’m Lieutenant Nate Ryland,” he called out. “Release the hostages now!”

He waited, praying that his demand wouldn’t be answered with a hail of bullets. Anything he did right now was a risk and could make it more dangerous for the children, but he couldn’t just stand there. He had to try something to get Kimmie and Noah away from their kidnappers.

In the distance he could hear a siren from one of the sheriff department’s cruisers. The sound was coming from the opposite direction so that meant Grayson or one of the other deputies would soon be there. But Nate didn’t intend to wait for backup to arrive. His daughter could be hurt inside that van, and he had to check on her.

Darcy finally managed to fight her way out of the wrecked car, and she hit the ground running. Or rather, limping. However, the limping didn’t stop her. She went straight for the van. Nate would have preferred for her to wait until he’d had time to assess things, but he knew there was no stopping her, not with her son inside.

“Noah?” she shouted.

Still no answer.

That didn’t stop Darcy, either, and she would have thrown open the back doors of the van if Nate hadn’t stepped in front of her and muscled her aside. This could be an ambush with the kidnappers waiting inside to gun them down, but these SOBs obviously wanted Darcy and him for something. Maybe that something meant they would keep them alive.

“Kimmie?” Nate called out, and he cautiously opened the van doors while he kept his gun aimed and ready.

It took him a moment to pick through the debris and the caved-in side, but what he saw had him cursing.

No one was there. Not in the seats, not in the back cargo area. Not even behind the wheel.

A sob tore from Darcy’s mouth, and if Nate hadn’t caught her, she likely would have collapsed onto the ground.

“Where are they?” she begged. And she just kept repeating it.

Nate glanced all around them. There were thick woods on one side of the road and an open meadow on the other. The grass didn’t look beaten down on the meadow side so that left the woods. He shoved his hand over Darcy’s mouth so he could hear any sounds. After all, two gunmen and three hostages should be making lots of sounds.

But he heard nothing other than Darcy’s frantic mumbles and the approaching siren.

“They were here,” Nate said more to himself than Darcy, but she stopped and listened. He took the hand from her mouth. “That’s Kimmie’s diaper bag.” It was lying right against the point of impact.

“And that’s Noah’s bear,” Darcy said, reaching for the toy.

Nate pulled her back. Yes, the children had likely been here, but so had the kidnappers. The diaper bag and the toy bear might have to be analyzed. Unless Nate found the children and kidnappers first.

And that’s exactly what he intended to do.

“Wait here,” he told Darcy. “I need to figure out where they went.” He tried not to think of his terrified baby being hauled through the woods by armed kidnappers, but he knew it was possible.

By God when he caught up to these men, they were going to pay, and pay hard.

“Look!” Darcy shouted.

Nate followed the direction of her pointing index finger and spotted the name tag. It was identical to the ones he’d seen Tara and the other woman wearing in the preschool. This one had the name Marlene Lambert, a woman he’d known his whole life. Her father’s ranch was just one property over from his family’s.

“The name tag looks as if it was ripped off her,” Darcy mumbled.

Maybe. It wasn’t just damaged—one of the four crayons had been removed. He glanced around the name tag and spotted the missing yellow crayon. It was right at the base of the rear doors.

“She wrote something.” Darcy pointed to the left door at the same moment Nate’s attention landed on it.

There was a single word, three letters, scrawled on the metal, but Nate couldn’t make out what it said. Later, he would try to figure it out, but for now he raced away from the van and to the edge of the road that fronted the woods.

Nate didn’t see any footprints or any signs of activity so he began to run, looking for anything that would give them a clue where the children had been taken. Darcy soon began to do the same and went in the opposite direction.

He glanced up when Dade’s truck squealed to a stop. His brother had put the portable siren on top of his truck, but thankfully now he turned it off. Unlike Darcy and Nate, Dade was coming from a straight part of the road and had no doubt seen the collision in time. That was why Nate hadn’t bothered to go back to his car and try to retrieve his cell phone so he could alert whoever would be coming from that direction.

“They’re not inside,” Nate relayed to his brother, and he kept looking.

Dade cursed. “There’s a helicopter on the way,” he let Nate know. “And I’ll call the Rangers and get a tracker out here. Mason, too,” Dade added the same moment that Nate said their brother’s name.

Mason was an expert horseman, and he was their best bet at finding the children in these thick woods. First, though, Nate needed to find the point at which they’d left the road. That would get him started in the right direction.

And he finally found it.

Footprints in the soft shoulder of the road.

“Here!” he called out to his brother. But Nate didn’t wait for Dade to reach him. Nor did he follow directly in the footsteps. He hurried to the side in case the prints were needed for evidence, and there were certainly a lot of them if castings were needed.

But something was wrong.

Hell.

“There’s only one set of footprints,” Nate relayed to Dade.

Dade cursed too and fanned out to Nate’s left, probably looking for more prints. There should be at least three sets since the adults would be carrying the babies.

“The person who made this set of prints could be a diversion,” Nate concluded, and he hurried to the other side of the road, hoping to find the real trail there.

Darcy quickly joined him. She was still limping, and blood was trickling down the side of her head. He hoped like the devil she wasn’t in need of immediate medical attention or on the verge of a panic attack. He needed her help, her eyes, because these first few minutes were critical.

“Go that way,” Nate instructed, pointing in the opposite direction where he intended to look.

He ran, checking each section of the pasture for any sign that anyone had been there. He knew the kidnappers weren’t on the road itself because Darcy and he had come from one end and Dade the other. If two kidnappers and three hostages had been anywhere near the road, they would have seen them.

Nate made it about a hundred yards from the collision site when he heard Dade’s cell ring. He didn’t stop looking, but he tried to listen, hoping that his brother was about to get good news. Judging from the profanity Dade used, he hadn’t.

“This van’s a decoy,” Dade shouted.

Nate stopped and whirled around. Darcy did the same and began to run back toward Dade. “What do you mean?”

“I mean two other eyewitnesses spotted black vans identical to this one.”

Darcy made it to Dade, and she latched on to his arm. “But there’s proof the children were inside. Noah’s bear and Kimmie’s diaper bag. Marlene’s name tag is there, too.”

Dade looked at Nate when he answered. “This was probably the van initially used in the kidnapping, but the children and Marlene were transferred to another vehicle. Maybe they were even split up since at least two other vans were seen around town.”

Nate had already come to that conclusion, and it made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t choke back the groan. Nor could he fight back the overwhelming sense of fear.

“If they split up, then there are probably more than two of them,” Nate mumbled.

That meant things had gone from bad to worse. The kidnappers could have an entire team of people helping them, and heaven knows what kind of vehicle they had used to transfer the children.

Nate was betting it wasn’t a black van.

It could have been any kind of vehicle. Darcy and he could have driven right past the damn thing and wouldn’t have even noticed it.

“We have people out on the roads,” Dade reminded them. “More are coming in. And there’s an Amber Alert and an APB out on the van. SAPD and all other law-enforcement officers in the area will stop any van matching the description. We’ll find them, Nate. I swear, we’ll find them.”

Nate checked his watch. About twenty minutes had passed. That was a lifetime in a situation like this. The kidnappers could already have reached the interstate.

“I’ll take you back to the sheriff’s office,” Dade insisted. He glanced down at Darcy. In addition to the nicks on her face, her jacket was torn, and there were signs of a bruise on her knee. “You need to see a medic.”

“No!” she practically shouted. “I need to find my baby.”

But the emotional outburst apparently drained her because the tears came, and Nate hooked his arm around her waist. He didn’t feel much like comforting her, or anyone else, for that matter, but the sad truth was there was only one person who knew exactly how he felt.

And that was Darcy.

She sagged against him and dropped her head on his shoulder. “We have to keep looking,” she begged.

“We will.” Nate looked at his brother. “We need another vehicle. And I need to call the San Antonio crime lab so they can come out and collect this van.” Silver Creek didn’t have the CSI capabilities that SAPD did, and Nate wanted as many people on this as possible.

Nate adjusted Darcy’s position so he could get her moving to Dade’s truck, but he stopped when he took another look at the scrawled letters written in yellow crayon. He eased away from Darcy and walked closer.

“You think Marlene wrote that?” Dade asked.

Nate nodded. “She might have tried to leave us a message.” He studied those three letters. “L-A-R,” he read aloud.

“Lar?” Dade shook his head, obviously trying to figure it out, too.

“Maybe it’s someone’s initials,” Darcy suggested. She moved between Dade and Nate, and leaned in. “Maybe she’s trying to tell us the identity of the person who took her.”

It was possible. Of course, that would mean it wasn’t Wesley Dent, and it would also mean Marlene had known her kidnapper. That possibility tightened the knot in Nate’s stomach. But there was something more here.

Something familiar.

Dade rattled off names of people who might fit those initials. He only managed two—an elderly couple with the last name of Reeves. Nate figured neither was capable of this. But his own surname began with an R.

Did that mean anything?

“A street name, then,” Darcy pressed.

Dade lifted his phone and snapped a picture. “Come on. Let’s go. We’ll try to work it out on the drive back to the sheriff’s office.”

It was a good plan, but Nate couldn’t take his attention off those three letters. They were familiar, something right on the tip of his tongue.

“Let’s go,” Darcy urged. She tugged on Nate’s arm to get him moving.

They only made it a few steps before Nate heard a phone ring. Not Dade’s. The sound was coming from his wrecked car, and it was his phone. He hurried toward it, but it stopped ringing just as he got there. He located his cell in the rubble and saw the missed call.

The number and caller’s identity had been blocked.

Hell. It had probably been the kidnappers. “It could have been the ransom call.”

“Try to call them back,” Darcy insisted. But the words had hardly left her mouth when another phone rang. “That’s my cell.” She frantically tore through the debris to locate her purse. She jerked out the phone and jabbed the button to answer it.

She pressed the phone to her ear, obviously listening, but she didn’t say a word. When the color drained from her face, Nate moved closer.

“But—” That was all she managed to say.

Nate wanted the call on speaker so he could hear, but he couldn’t risk trying to press any buttons on her phone. He darn sure didn’t want to disconnect the call. All he could do was wait.

“I want my son. Give me back my son!” she shouted. The tears welled up in her eyes and quickly began to spill down her cheeks. Several seconds later, Darcy’s hand went limp, the phone dropping away from her ear.

Nate snatched the phone from her, but the call had already ended.

“Who was it and what did they say?” Nate demanded. He caught her by the shoulders and positioned her so that it forced eye contact.

She groaned and shook her head. “The person had a mechanical voice, like he was speaking through some kind of machine, but I think it was a man. He said he had the children and Marlene and that if we wanted them back, he would soon be in touch. Then he hung up.”

“That’s it? That’s all he said?” Nate tried to calm down but couldn’t. “He didn’t say if the kids were safe?”

“No,” she insisted.

Nate took her phone. He tried the return-call function on his cell first. It didn’t go through. Instead he got a recording about the number no longer being in service. The same thing happened when he tried to retrieve the call from Darcy’s phone.

A dead end.

But maybe it was just a temporary one.

Dade gathered both cells. “I’ll see if we can get anything about the caller from these. Darcy, you need to write down everything you can remember from that conversation because each word could be important.”

She nodded and smeared the tears from her cheeks. “Let’s get that other vehicle so we can look for them.”

Nate agreed, but he stopped and stared at the three letters written on the door of the van.

LAR.

“I already have a picture of it,” Dade reminded him. “You can study it later.”

Nate cursed. “I don’t need to study it.” He started to run toward Nate’s truck. “I know what Marlene is trying to tell us. I know where we can find the children.”

Chapter Four

“LAR,” Darcy said under her breath.

Lost Appaloosa Ranch.

Well, maybe that’s what the initials meant. Of course, Nate could be wrong, and it could turn out to be a wild-goose chase. A chase that could cost them critical time because it tied up manpower that could be directed somewhere other than the remote abandoned ranch. According to Nate, the owner had died nearly a year ago, and his mortgage lender was still trying to contact his next of kin.

“Hurry,” Darcy told the medic again. And yes, she glared at him. She’d spent nearly fifteen minutes in the Silver Creek sheriff’s office, and that was fifteen minutes too long.

Darcy didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be out looking for Noah, but instead here she was, sitting at the sheriff’s desk while a medic stitched her up. God knows how she’d gotten the cut right on her hairline, and she didn’t care.

She didn’t care about anything but her son.

“I’m trying to hurry,” the medic assured her.

She knew from his name tag that he was Tommy Watters, and while she hated being rude to him, she couldn’t stop herself. She had to do something. Anything.

Like Nate and his four brothers were doing.

Just a few yards away from her, Nate was on the phone, his tone and motions frantic, while he talked with the helicopter pilot, who was trying to narrow down the search zone.

“No,” Nate instructed. “Don’t do a direct fly over the Lost Appaloosa. I already have someone en route, and if the kidnappers are there, I don’t want to alert them. I want you to focus on the roads that lead to the interstate.”

Nate had a map spread out on the desk, and every line on the desk phone was blinking. Next door, Deputy Melissa Garza was barking out orders to a citizens’ patrol group that was apparently being formed to assist in the hunt for the kidnappers and the babies. The dispatcher was helping her.

Grayson, Dade and Mason were all out searching various parts of Silver Creek, interviewing witnesses and running down leads on the other black vans that had been spotted. The other deputy, Luis Lopez, was at the day care in case the kidnappers returned.

Darcy was the only one not doing anything to save Noah and Kimmie.

“I can’t just sit here.” The panic was starting to whirl around inside her, and despite the AC spilling over her, sweat popped out on her face. She would scream if she couldn’t get out of there and find Noah.

Darcy pushed aside the medic and would have run out of the room if Nate hadn’t caught her shoulder.

He got right in her face, and his glare told her this wasn’t going to be a pep talk. “You have to keep yourself together. Because I don’t have time to babysit you. Got that?”

She flinched. That stung worse than the fresh stitches. But Darcy still shook her head. “Noah is my life.” Which, of course, went without saying. Kimmie was no doubt Nate’s life, too.

Nate nodded, and eased up on the bruising grip he had on her shoulder. The breath he blew out was long and weary. He looked up at the medic as he put Darcy back in the chair. “Finish the stitches now,” he ordered.

Actual fear went through the medic’s eyes, and he clipped off the thread. “It’ll hold for now, but she should see a doctor because she might have a concussion.”

Before the last word left the medic’s mouth, Darcy was out of the chair. “Let’s go,” she insisted.

Thank God, Nate didn’t argue with her. “We’re headed to the Lost Appaloosa, Mel,” he shouted to Deputy Garza, and in the same motion Nate grabbed a set of keys from a hook on the wall.

Finally! They were getting out there and doing something. She hoped it was the right something.

“You have to keep yourself together,” Nate repeated. But this time, there was no razor edge to his tone. No glare. Just speed. He practically ran down the hall. “My brother Kade should arrive at the Lost Appaloosa in about ten minutes, and then we’ll have answers.”

“Answers if the babies are really there,” Darcy corrected.

Nate spared her a glance, threw open the back door and hurried into the parking lot. “Marlene probably risked her life to write those initials. They mean something, and if it turns out to be the Lost Appaloosa, then Kade will know how to approach the situation.”

“Because he’s FBI,” she said more to herself than Nate.

Darcy prayed Nate’s FBI brother truly knew what he was doing. It gave her some comfort to know that Kade would likely be willing to risk his life to save his niece. And maybe Noah, too.

Nate jumped into a dark blue SUV, started the engine and barely waited long enough for Darcy to get inside before he tore out of the parking lot.

“I need to know if you’re okay,” he said, tipping his head to her new stitches.

“Don’t worry about me,” Darcy said. “Focus on the kids.”

“I can’t have you keeling over or anything.” The muscles in his jaw stirred. Maybe because he didn’t like that he had to be concerned about her in any way.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, and even though it was a lie, it was the end of the discussion as far as Darcy was concerned. “How far is the Lost Appaloosa?”

“Thirty miles. It’s within the San Antonio city limits, but there’s not much else out there.” His phone buzzed, and he shoved it between his shoulder and ear when he answered it.

She listened but couldn’t tell anything from Nate’s monosyllabic responses. He certainly wasn’t whooping for joy because the babies had possibly been found.

Darcy leaned over to check the odometer so she would know when they were close to that thirty miles, and her hair accidently brushed against Nate’s arm. He glanced at it, at her, and Darcy quickly pulled away.

“Thirty miles,” she repeated, focusing on the drive and not on the driver. Nate put his attention back on the call.

That was too many miles between her and her baby, and the panic surged through her again. Nate was already going as fast as he could, but at this speed and because of the narrow country roads, it would take them at least twenty, maybe twenty-five, minutes to get there.

An eternity.

Nate cursed, causing her attention to snap back to him. She waited, breath held, until he slapped the phone shut. “Grayson just found another empty black van on a dirt road near the creek. Only one set of footprints was around the vehicle.”

So, not a call from Kade. Just news of another decoy van. Or else the team of kidnappers had split up. Did that mean they’d split up the children and Marlene, as well? Darcy hoped not.

“Shouldn’t you have heard from Kade by now?” she asked.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “My brother will call when he can.”

Nate looked at her again, and his eyes were now a dangerous stormy-gray. “The person behind this has a big motive and a lot of money,” he tossed out there. He was all cop again. Here was the lieutenant she’d butted heads with in the past. And the present.

“You mean Wesley Dent,” she supplied.

Darcy didn’t even try to put on her lawyer face. Her head was pounding. Her breath, ragged. And her heart was beating so hard, she was afraid her ribs might crack. She didn’t have the energy for her usual power-attorney facade.

“Wesley Dent,” Nate verified, making her client’s name sound like profanity. “He’s a gold digger, and I believe he murdered his wife.”

Darcy shook her head and continued to keep watch in case she spotted another black van. She also glanced at the odometer, remembering to keep her hair away from Nate’s arm. Twenty-five miles to go.

“I won’t deny the gold-digging part,” she admitted, “but I’m not sure he killed his wife.”

Though it did look bad for Dent.

A starving artist, Dent had married Sandra Frasier, who wasn’t just a multimillionaire heiress but was twenty-five years his senior. And apparently she often resorted to public humiliation when it came to her boy-toy husband, who was still two years shy of his thirtieth birthday. Just days before what would have been their first wedding anniversary, Sandra had humiliated Dent in public at Dent’s art show.

A day after that, she had received a lethal dose of insulin.

“Sandra was diabetic,” Darcy continued, though she really didn’t want to have this conversation. Twenty-four miles to go. “So, it’s possible this was a suicide. Her husband even said she wrote about suicide in her diary.” But her death certainly hadn’t been accidental because the amount of insulin was quadruple what she would have normally taken.

“There was no suicide note,” Nate challenged. “No sign of this so-called diary, either.”

But that didn’t mean the diary didn’t exist. Dent had told her that his wife kept it under lock and key, so maybe she’d moved it so that no one would be able to read her intimate thoughts.

“The husband is often guilty in situations like this,” Nate went on. He had such a hard grip on the steering wheel that his knuckles were white. “And I think Dent could have orchestrated this kidnapping to force me to stop the investigation. I’m within days of arresting his sorry butt for murder.”

Darcy wished the pain in her head would ease up a little so she could think straighter. “There are other suspects,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, the dead woman’s ex-husband and her son, but neither has as strong a motive as Dent.”

“Maybe,” Darcy conceded. Another glance at the odometer. Twenty-three miles between the ranch and them. “But if Dent masterminded this kidnapping to stop the investigation, then why take Noah? I’m his lawyer, the one person who could possibly prevent him from being arrested.”

Nate shook his head, cursed again. “Maybe he thinks if he has your son that you’ll put pressure on me to cooperate.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but that kind of fight just wasn’t in her. Besides, there was a chance that Nate could be right.

In some ways it would be better if he was.

After all, if Dent took the children, then he would keep them safe because he would use them to make a deal. Darcy was good at deals. And she would bargain with the devil himself if it meant getting her son back.

Nate didn’t tack anything else on to his speculations about Dent, and the silence closed in around them. Except it wasn’t just an ordinary silence. It was the calm before the storm because Darcy knew what was coming next.

“Charles Brennan,” she tossed out there since she knew Nate had already thought of the man. Over a year ago Brennan had hired the triggerman who’d murdered Nate’s wife.

“Yeah,” Nate mumbled. “Any chance he’s behind this?”

Well, Brennan was dead, but she didn’t have to remind Nate of that. Because Nate had been the one to kill Brennan in a shoot-out after the man had taken a deputy hostage.

“Brennan made me executor of his estate,” Darcy volunteered. “I’ve gone through his files and financials, and there is no proof he left any postmortem instructions that had anything to do with you. Or me, for that matter.”

“You’re sure?” Nate pressed.

“Yes.” As sure as she could be, anyway, when it came to a monster like Brennan.

Nate made a sharp sound that clipped from his throat. It was the sound of pure disapproval. “Brennan was a cold-blooded killer, and you defended him.”

She had. And two months ago she would have argued that it was her duty to provide representation, but that was before her client had nearly killed a deputy sheriff, Nate and heaven knows how many others.

Darcy kept watch out the window. She didn’t want to look at Nate because she didn’t want him to see the hurt that was in her eyes. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me feel worse than I already do,” she let him know.

Silence again from Nate, and Darcy risked touching him so she could lean in and see the mileage. Just under twenty miles to go. Still an eternity.

Nate’s cell buzzed. “It’s Kade,” he said and flipped open the phone.

Just like that, both the dread and the hope grabbed her by the throat. She moved closer, until she was shoulder to shoulder with Nate. Darcy no longer cared about the touching risk. She had to know what Kade was saying.

“I’m on the side of the hill with a good binocular view of the Lost Appaloosa,” Kade explained. “And I have good news and bad.”

Oh, mercy. She wasn’t sure she could handle it if something had happened to the children. Nate’s deep breath let her know he felt the same.

“The good news—there’s a black van parked on the side of the main house,” Kade continued. “Something tells me this one isn’t a decoy.”

“How do you know?” Darcy asked before Nate could. She wanted to believe that was good news, but she wasn’t sure. “Do you see the children?”

“No sign of the children,” Kade told them. His voice was practically a whisper, but even the low volume couldn’t conceal his concern.

Kade paused. “Nate, call Grayson and the others and tell them to get out here right away. Because the bad news is—there are at least a half-dozen armed guards surrounding the place.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.