by Elle James
The sheriff turned back to Aubrey. “Did you hear all that?”
Her heart lodged firmly in the pit of her belly, Aubrey nodded. “Enough. I think I get the gist.”
“The woman was Rosa Martinez. Her brother paid a coyote to get his sister and her family out of a town overrun with a drug cartel after her husband was murdered in the streets. The coyote was to bring them to Hico, where they would hire an immigration attorney and attempt to get her citizenship.”
Her heart ached for the mother and the little girls who would never know her. “She didn’t make it.”
An arm slipped around her shoulders. “No, but her baby will,” Matt reminded her. “Because of you.”
“And her little girl,” Aubrey reminded him. “We have to find Isabella.”
“And Isabella.”
For another hour, the volunteers searched the field, the woods and the field on the other side of the stand of trees.
Halfway through the search, they found a child’s small jacket and the knobby tire tracks of a four-wheeler. The sheriff had the deputy snap photos of the tracks and the jacket as it was found.
The SAR dog was brought to the location to sniff the jacket. Once again, the dog lost the scent immediately.
“They took her on one of the four-wheelers. My Ruger would have found her if she’d been on her own two feet,” the dog handler said.
Just in case the abductors had dumped the child farther away from where they’d snatched her, the sheriff had the volunteers continue to comb the fields and woods. By then, it was well past midnight.
“We’ll come back out in the morning to see if we can follow the tracks to where they met up with transport out of here,” the sheriff said. The volunteers dispersed, leaving the sheriff, the deputy, Matt, Aubrey, Trace, Lily and Irish.
“You might as well go home and get some rest,” Sheriff Richards said. “We’ll reconvene our search when we have daylight to work in.” He frowned when he looked toward Aubrey. “You might want to stay somewhere else tonight. If the kidnappers were after both children, they might take it personally that you cost them the money they could have gotten for the baby. Coyotes don’t take the loss of money lightly.”
“Have you had many coyotes working in this area?” Matt asked. “I never hear of them except around Laredo or Juárez.”
“Because they stay so far beneath the radar, you don’t know they’re out there,” the sheriff said. “Most of them just get their paying customers across the border. Then the immigrants are on their own to make it to safety.”
“Why Whiskey Gulch?” Matt asked. “It’s not even that close to the border.”
“People coming across try to keep moving inland from the border,” Deputy Jones said. “They’re probably passing through Whiskey Gulch to Dallas or farther north. We’ve had several cases over the past year of ranchers finding people passed out on their property from dehydration or hunger. The people are desperate, but not desperate enough to ask for help. They’re afraid they’ll be turned over to the CBP and returned to their country, where they have nothing.”
“But they have nothing here,” Aubrey argued.
“Yes, but, for the most part, they aren’t being used for target practice here.”
“Until Rosa and her daughters?”
The sheriff’s lips thinned into a grim line. “Actually, we found another body recently in a ditch a couple miles south of here. A female, also shot in the back. She had a backpack filled with clothing for herself and a child. We found no other bodies nearby. We assumed she was alone.”
Aubrey drew in a sharp breath. “Those men could have killed her and taken her child, as well.”
“In her case, she seemed to be heading for the town of Whiskey Gulch. Whether she was passing through or planned on stopping, we don’t know,” the sheriff said.
“We found a folded sheet of paper in her clenched fist with something written in Spanish on it,” the deputy said. “Translated it was house of the angels.”
A chill rippled through Aubrey even though the Texas night was still warm. She looked from the sheriff to the deputy. “Casa de los ángeles?”
The deputy nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”
For a moment, Aubrey forgot how to breathe. It was as if the ghost of Rosa Martinez was whispering in her ear.
Matt tightened his arm around her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up into his piercing dark eyes, wanting to brush back the strand of dark hair that had fallen down over his forehead. She blinked twice to regain focus. “When Rosa was banging on my door, she was yelling something.” Drawing in a deep breath, she repeated the woman’s entreaty, “Es esta la casa de los ángeles?”
Matt frowned. “She asked you if the cottage was the house of angels?”
Aubrey nodded. “Yes. I understood the words, but they didn’t make sense to me at the time.” She sighed. “They still don’t. What did she mean by asking me if the cottage on Maple Street was the house of angels?”
“That she asked and the dead woman from a couple weeks ago had the same words on a note is too much of a coincidence,” the sheriff said.
Matt shook his head. His gut was telling him it wasn’t a twist of fate. “I don’t believe in coincidence. The two murders are obviously related. Two women were murdered, and their children taken. These men are stealing children. The question is where are they taking them?”
“And who they’re selling them to,” Deputy Jones said.
“Do you think they’re taking them to the house of angels?” Aubrey asked.
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “You say Rosa Martinez asked you if your cottage was the house of angels?”
Aubrey nodded. “That’s what it sounded like. I could have remembered it wrong. Everything happened so fast, and she was crying.”
The sheriff shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ll put out some feelers to some of my local Hispanic contacts and see if they know something we’re missing.” He sighed. “In the meantime, I need to catch a few hours of sleep and get back out here at sunup when the volunteers are due to arrive.”
“We’ll be here,” Trace said. Irish and Lily nodded.
Matt didn’t respond. He’d be where Aubrey was, and he guessed it wouldn’t be looking through a field for a missing girl. She was convinced the girl was long gone. He tended to agree with her. However, the search effort would be worth it, if they found a clue as to who had taken the girl.
“Had enough wind in your ears?” Trace asked Aubrey. “Wanna ride back to the ranch in the truck?”
Aubrey looked to Matt. “I’d prefer to ride with Mr. Hennessey, if he doesn’t mind.”
He shrugged. “Not a problem. And you can call me Matt.” Secretly, he was glad she’d agreed to ride with him. After rescuing her from the bad guys, he felt responsible for her well-being. They walked back through the woods and across the fields to the cottage, where Trace, Lily and Irish loaded into the truck and left for the ranch.
Aubrey stood next to Matt’s motorcycle with her arms wrapped around her middle as if she was cold.
When Matt held out her helmet, she shook her head.
She backed a step. “You don’t have to take me back to your ranch. I’ll stay at the cottage.”
What the hell was she thinking? Now Matt shook his head. “You can’t stay here by yourself. If those guys figure out who you are, they might be back to get revenge for having interfered with their human trafficking operation.”
“In that case, I don’t want them to follow me to the ranch where the baby is.”
“By now, the baby will have been taken by Child Protective Services,” Matt reasoned. “I heard the sheriff talking with dispatch. Even if they haven’t collected the baby, there are enough people at the ranch to protect her and you.”
“I don’t need protecting. I can take care of
myself.”
Matt smiled. “You did last time. They won’t be surprised this time. Three to one is not the best odds.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you even own a gun?”
She bit her bottom lip. “No.”
“How will you defend yourself?”
“I’ll lock the doors and windows,” she said.
“They can break those down.”
She lifted her chin. “I have a can of wasp spray that will shoot a stream up to ten feet.”
“That would be great if all you were up against was an angry wasp.” Matt shook his head again. “These guys killed a woman. Don’t be their second victim for tonight. You have to stay alive long enough to help me find Isabella.”
“How are we going to find her?” Aubrey asked. “We don’t know who took her, and the only person who might have identified them is dead.”
“Those guys had to have taken the girl to a place close by. With the sheriff having put up blockades on all the roads leading into and out of Whiskey Gulch, they have to eventually go through.”
“How do you know he didn’t already go through while we were scouring an empty field looking for a child that wasn’t there?” Aubrey asked.
Matt held up his hands. The woman was stubborn. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I can’t leave you here alone. Either you come with me to the ranch and be surrounded by men trained in combat who can and will protect you...or I’ll be forced to stay here with you.”
Her brow wrinkled. “You won’t be forced to stay anywhere. I’m not asking you to stay. You can go back to the ranch and leave me here.”
He shook his head firmly. “Sorry. I can’t do that.”
“But I didn’t ask you to stay,” she said. “I didn’t invite you into my home.”
“If you don’t let me in, I’ll camp out on the deck.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his shoulders back, his feet spread wide, ready for battle. “Either way, I’m not leaving you alone.”
Aubrey opened her mouth as if to tell him where he could go. She must have thought better of it because she closed it again. “Okay. Fine. You can sleep in the spare bedroom. For the record, I don’t have a habit of inviting strangers into my home.”
“For the record—” Matt closed the distance between them and tilted her chin up with the tip of his finger “—I don’t make a habit of sleeping with strangers.” His lips twitched. “Not that I’ll be sleeping with you.”
“Damn right you won’t be sleeping with me,” she said, her voice a little breathy.
“I’m glad you agree. It would have been awkward if you showed up to my room later in the evening.” He grinned.
She snorted and stepped away. “Not happening.”
“Didn’t expect it.” He winked. “Come on. Don’t get all defensive. I’m giving you a hard time. That’s all. You know...sarcasm?” He laid her helmet on the bike’s seat. “By the way, you’re cute in the helmet. All you need are some leathers and you’ll look like a regular biker babe. And no... I’m not flirting. Just making a statement.”
She frowned. “I’m not interested in becoming a biker babe. I’d never been on one until you found me and Marianna on the highway.”
“For someone who’d never been on a motorcycle, you did good leaning into the curves.” He tilted his chin toward the house. “Wanna show me to the room I’ll be sleeping in?”
Her brow knit. “I guess. Though I still think it’s overkill for you to stay.”
“Rather overkill than roadkill.” He grinned. “I crack myself up.”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “You’re a regular comedian. You can park your bike in the shed behind the house in case it rains. That’s where I usually park my Jeep. Come on. I need to move it into the shed anyway.”
Matt pushed the bike around to the structure in the back of the house.
Aubrey ran into the house, grabbed her keys and drove her Jeep out to the shed. The door was unlocked. She parked her vehicle to one side, allowing room for his motorcycle. Other than a couple of shovels and a rake, there wasn’t much anyone would want to steal.
Matt waited at the door. “I called to let the others know we wouldn’t be coming to the ranch tonight.”
“Thank you,” she said and stepped outside. “There’s enough room in here for your bike.”
Matt pushed the bike in beside the Jeep and set it up on its kickstand. As he left the building, he closed the door behind him.
Aubrey led the way to the front door of the cottage Matt knew like the back of his hand. He’d sworn when he left Whiskey Gulch, he’d never come back to stay. Ironic how his life had turned out. Had he not been injured and medically retired from the Marines, he might have kept his promise to himself. Something about his mother’s death had brought him back to stay in the town he’d never wanted to see again.
When Aubrey started to reach for the door handle, Matt brushed aside her fingers, feeling a spark of electricity that gave him pause. What the hell? She was just a woman who’d jumped out in front of him on a deserted highway. Nothing more. He’d do well to keep his head and heart in the game. A child was missing. He’d work with Ms. Blanchard to find the child. Then he’d go back to his auto repair business and the ranch. He had enough to do without adding a female to the mix. In his books, they were all drama and hard work for little return.
But, if he was in the market for a woman, Aubrey Blanchard wouldn’t be a bad choice. She was strong, having carried a baby on the run. She was courageous. Hell, she’d taken on three killers on ATVs without worrying about her own safety. All to save a stranger and her children.
Her slender figure, auburn hair and green eyes were a bonus. And when she’d wrapped her arms around his waist, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to have feminine hands on him. Maybe it was time to get back into the dating scene. He’d avoided it when he returned to Whiskey Gulch, not wanting to relive the drama he’d experienced in high school. Living in a small town, everyone knew everyone else. Gossip was the only entertainment.
Matt hadn’t been interested in rekindling any of his old flames. He’d been out in the world, seen things he could never forget and had only wanted to keep a low profile and blend into the woodwork.
The women who’d stayed in Whiskey Gulch after high school didn’t attract him in the least. They still considered him the bad boy he’d been in school. And that was only because of the way he’d dressed. Matt hadn’t committed any crimes. He’d only looked like he could. His mannerisms and reputation got him in trouble on more than one occasion with the cops and with protective fathers. It had even gotten him sideways with his half brother, though he hadn’t known how sideways until recently. Thankfully, he and Trace had smoothed out their differences and were establishing some semblance of a working relationship in order to keep from selling the ranch.
Matt pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold into his past with a hard kick to the gut.
Chapter Four
Aubrey almost ran into Matt’s back.
The man stopped and froze in place as soon as he stepped inside the cottage.
“What?” she asked, trying to look around him to determine why he’d made a complete halt. “Is it safe?”
The cottage was small with an open concept living area leading to the kitchen. A breakfast bar and stools provided the delineation between the two rooms.
Matt rolled his shoulders back and stood a little taller. “Sorry. It’s just that nothing has changed in this room since the last time I—”
“You’ve been in this house before?” Aubrey asked, her curiosity peaking. The fact he’d been here didn’t bother her; it made her feel a little closer to this man. “What was the former owner like? I mean, all the furniture was here when I rented it. Thankfully. I had nothing.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, his gaze going to every corner of the livi
ng room, pausing with the paintings on the wall. Finally, he said, “She was good.”
Aubrey slipped around him. “That’s what I get from those who knew her. Lynn Hennessey.” Aubrey frowned. “Wait. I heard you tell the sheriff’s deputy your name was Matt Hennessey.” She tilted her head. “Are you and Lynn related? Was she your wife?” Her heart fluttered.
Matt shook his head.
Aubrey’s heartbeat returned to normal.
“She was my mother,” Matt said.
Her gut clenched. “Oh, Matt. I’m so sorry.” She looked around the living room, as if seeing what he saw. “Staying here must be very hard for you.” She stepped toward the door. “Look, I’ll go with you to the ranch. We can stay out there.”
“No,” he said, his jaw tight. “We’re here now. We might as well call it a night, or what’s left of it.”
Aubrey could feel the man’s pain all the way to her bones. “I’m being selfish. It would be better if we stayed at the ranch,” she insisted.
Matt turned to her. “My mother has been gone for four years. I’m okay.” He didn’t look okay. His lips were pressed in a thin line and his hands were clenched into fists.
A thought made her stomach knot even harder. “Was this your home, too?” she whispered.
He nodded. “My mother brought me here when I was young. This town was her home. Even when she lived away, she always wanted to come back.”
Aubrey waved a hand toward the furnishings. She hadn’t changed much, other than adding a couple of accent pillows and lap blankets. “And these were her things?”
Again Matt nodded. “They were.” He walked deeper into the cottage, pausing to stare at the painting of a water jug full of cut pink tulips on the wall. “She loved this painting.” He huffed out a soft breath. “She said it gave her joy to look at it. I think it looks like a bunch of dead flowers that will shrivel and die. But it made my mother happy.”
Aubrey hadn’t given the painting much thought, only that it did make her smile when she passed it in the hallway. “It’s like it welcomes me home after a hard day’s work.”
