by Rita Herron
Rhoda was a single mother with a ten-year-old son at home, so she didn’t mind an opportunity to take off early.
Mila felt the gunman’s eyes piercing her as she watched Rhoda quickly clear the waiting room, then shut down the computer at the nurses’ desk.
“Anything else I can do?” Rhoda called from the front.
“No, thanks for handling that. Have a good night with Trey.”
Rhoda yelled good-night, then left through the front door.
The gunman motioned for her to lock up, and Mila rushed forward, locked the doors and closed all the blinds. Noises sounded from the back, and she walked toward the exam rooms on shaky legs.
“Why me? Why here?” Mila asked.
The gunman jabbed the gun into her back. “We know you helped some of our girls escape.”
A cold chill washed over Mila. Some of their girls?
She had referred a few lost teens at the clinic to the women’s shelter. And then there was Izzy’s mother...
The back door burst open, and four more armed men strode in, their big bodies shielding another man in a suit who she assumed was the boss.
The guards scanned the interior, their posture braced to shoot. As they parted to search the clinic to make sure they were alone, she got her first real look at the man they called their leader.
Thick black hair framed an angular face that might be handsome if not for the scar running down the side of his cheek and the evil in his black eyes.
Eyes that looked familiar.
Pure panic robbed her breath.
She knew who he was. Arman DiSanti—the man who’d bought and used Izzy’s mother as a sex slave.
Did he know that her daughter, Izzy, the little girl they’d taken hostage, was his birth child?
* * *
BRAYDEN TRIED TO keep everyone calm as they waited on Lucas to answer the phone call. When Lucas returned, he looked antsy.
“We have a lead on the ringleader of the Shetland operation. We think he’s undergoing cosmetic surgery to change his identity.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I have to go.”
Harrison leaned over to give Honey a kiss. “I’m going with him.”
As sheriff of Tumbleweed, Harrison had no jurisdiction outside their small town, but he’d caught the case when Charlotte had been shot during the abductions of four students from her art studio. Lucas had been called in then. At this point, the entire family and the girls were all invested in making sure the trafficking ring was shut down for good.
“Need backup?” Dexter asked.
Dex’s PI skills had come in handy when they’d been tracking down the missing girls.
Lucas shook his head no. “This is an FBI operation, but thanks.”
Charlotte stood and touched her husband’s arm. “Where are you going?”
“A clinic outside Austin. Some plastic surgeon named Dr. Manchester is giving the bastard a new face.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Dr. Manchester?”
Lucas nodded. “Mila Manchester. For all we know, she’s on Shetland’s payroll. Her volunteer work could be a cover to give her opportunities to do jobs like this.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, Lucas. Mila can’t be involved.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes at his wife. “You know Dr. Manchester?”
She nodded. “Her mother is the doctor who removed my port-wine birthmark when I was younger. I met Mila when I was at the clinic. And I’ve read about her volunteer work. She’s a good person.”
Lucas glanced at the table, where everyone was watching. Fear darkened the teens’ faces while worry knitted his mother’s brow.
“Maybe you think you know her,” Lucas said. “But, Charlotte, these men could be paying her big money to help them.”
Charlotte shook her head in denial again. “No, not Mila. She’s kind and loving and giving just like her mother was.”
Lucas looked torn but dropped a kiss on Charlotte’s cheek. “I really have to go. We don’t want this guy to get away.”
“Be careful,” Charlotte said, her voice strained. “And promise me you won’t hurt Mila.”
Lucas hugged her tightly. “Everything will be okay.”
Brayden pushed back from the table and followed Lucas and Harrison to the door. Dexter was right behind him.
Lucas stepped outside. “I’ll call you when we have him in custody.”
Brayden nodded. “Just get the bastard.”
Chapter Two
Mila typically took weeks to plan a facial reconstruction surgery. She had several consultations with the patient, conducted an analysis of problematic features needing correction, created computer sketches simulating what the finished product would look like and, if needed, arranged counseling with a professional. She’d also run blood work and tests to verify the patient was healthy enough for surgery.
Sometimes skin grafts were necessary. And sometimes multiple surgeries.
She had no time for any of that today.
DiSanti had shoved a photograph into her hands and told her exactly what he’d wanted. The changes would literally make him unrecognizable.
She’d been working for hours now. Her hand trembled as she finished the last of the sutures around his forehead. Perspiration trickled down the side of her face. Exhaustion bled through every cell in her body, adding to the tension thrumming through her. Her feet ached, her head throbbed and her eyes were blurring.
Twice his blood pressure had risen, and she’d thought she might lose him. That would be a blessing.
But the guards had warned her that if she made a mistake or if he died, she’d pay for it.
“How much longer?” the shortest of the guards asked.
“I’m almost finished. But he’s going to need recovery time.” She wanted to tell them they were fools to put him through so many alterations in one day. “I told you that I usually perform these procedures in steps.”
“We don’t have time for that,” the bigger brute barked. “Just finish.”
Images of Izzy and Roberta, terrified for their lives, taunted her with every minute she worked on the man. So far, she’d reshaped his nose, lifted his eyelids and added fillers to his cheeks and lips. His scar was history, as well.
He looked ten years younger and almost handsome.
But nothing could change the monster beneath that face.
The goons guarding the surgical room remained rigid, guns pointing at her.
Her finger slipped, and she bit her tongue as she dropped the instrument. The guard took a step forward, his glare a warning. If she lost DiSanti, she’d be dead in seconds.
She forced a breath to calm her nerves, then completed the row of stitches, dabbing away blood as she went.
Relieved to finally finish, she gestured toward her patient. “He’s going to need rest, ice packs, pain medication. I’ll send you with everything you need to take care of him.”
A snide grin slid onto the brute’s face. “We’re not going to take care of him, Doc. You are.”
Mila’s pulse pounded. “Listen, I did everything you asked. Now let me go home to my little girl.”
He shook his head. “Not happening yet. Not until he’s healing and we know you didn’t pull something on us.”
The shorter man’s phone buzzed. He stepped aside to answer, then spoke in a low hushed voice. Anger slashed his eyes as he hung up. “We have to move him now. The feds are on their way.”
Mila gripped the steel counter where her instruments were spread out. If the feds were coming, maybe they’d save Izzy.
The men jumped into motion. Keeping the IV attached, they rolled the patient through the hallway and loaded him into the back of their van. The bigger guy jerked her arm. “Come on, Doc. Get whatever supplies you need to take care of him and let’s go.”
She dug her heels in. “Please let me go home to my daughter. I’ll gather the supplies and you can take them with you.”
He jammed the gun at her temple. “I said move it.”
A siren wailed outside. One of the guards rushed in. “We have to go now. The damn feds are here!”
The man dragged her into the hall. She pulled back, desperate to escape. If they took her with them, they’d probably kill her and she’d never see Izzy again.
But the barrel of the gun pressed into her temple. “Fight and I’ll kill you right here.”
The siren wailed closer. No time to get supplies.
Mila fought a sob as the man dragged her out the back door.
Tires screeched. An SUV careened into the parking lot, a police car following. Blue lights twirled and flickered against the night sky.
Car doors opened, and a man shouted, “Stop, FBI!”
Two of the guards at the back of the van opened fire and men ducked for cover.
The man holding her arm lost his grip and fired back, then motioned for the two guards to get in the van. They jumped inside, while another one rushed into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, then shouts and bullets flew.
The big guy shoved her toward the van, but she kicked him in the knee. He cursed and pushed her again, but she dived to the side and hit the concrete. Another round of bullets pinged around her, then the big guy jumped inside the vehicle.
Mila covered her head with her hands as the FBI fired at the van. Through the back window the guards unleashed another round.
She screamed as a bullet pinged onto the concrete by her face.
Tires peeled rubber as the van screeched away. Footsteps and shouts followed. The officers were leaving. She raised her head to look around, but a tall, dark-haired man stood over her, his gun aimed at her.
“Dr. Manchester?”
She nodded, her body trembling.
He hauled her to her feet. “You are under arrest.”
She opened her mouth to protest. But he spun her around, yanked her arms behind her and snapped handcuffs around her wrists.
* * *
KEEPING THE HAWK women calm was an impossible job.
Brayden and Dexter tried everything from encouraging the girls to talk about riding to feigning interest in the plans for Honey’s nursery.
The fact that Honey didn’t want to talk about the baby’s room was not a good sign.
Charlotte paced in front of the fireplace in the den, where they’d gathered to have coffee and the blueberry cobbler his mother had baked. But no one was hungry and everyone wanted drinks instead of coffee. Except for Honey, of course.
“I wish they’d call,” Charlotte said as she made the turn at the corner of the fireplace for the dozenth time.
“Harrison has to come back okay.” Honey rubbed her growing belly. “This little boy needs his daddy.”
An awkward silence followed as her comment hit too close to home. He and his brothers had needed their father, but he’d left and never contacted them again.
“I’m sorry,” Honey said. “That was insensitive.”
“It’s the truth.” Their mother patted Honey’s shoulder. “We are not keeping secrets or mincing words. Your baby needs Harrison, and he’s coming back to you both.”
Brayden’s phone buzzed, and everyone startled.
“Is it Lucas?” Charlotte asked at the same time Honey asked if it was Harrison.
He checked the number. “Harrison.” He quickly connected, then listened.
“I don’t have much time. Arman DiSanti was at the clinic in Austin, but he escaped. Two FBI agents chased after him but lost him on the outskirts of Austin. We have an APB out for the van and have alerted all authorities.”
The women were boring holes into him with their anxious expressions. “Are you and Lucas all right?” Brayden asked.
“Yeah,” Harrison said. “Lucas arrested Dr. Manchester. We’re transporting her to the field office here in Austin for questioning. Tell Honey to go home and get some rest. I’ll be home later.”
Brayden frowned. “I will.”
As soon as he hung up, Charlotte and Honey pounced on him. “What happened? Are they okay?”
“Lucas and Harrison are safe. Unfortunately, DiSanti escaped.” Brayden glanced at Honey. “Harrison said for you to go home and rest.”
Honey released a sigh of relief. “I know he loves what he does, but I can’t help but worry.”
Charlotte put her arm around Honey. “Me, too. Every time Lucas leaves the house, I say a prayer that he’ll come back in one piece.”
Mrs. Hawk clapped her hands. “Well, now that we know our men are safe, how about that pie?”
Honey rubbed her stomach again. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
Dexter went for it, but Charlotte declined, then cornered him by the fireplace. “What happened with Mila?”
Brayden reached for the bottle of scotch to pour another drink. He’d held off while they waited, deciding he needed to remain sober in case there was an emergency. He’d only served on the police force a year before deciding on law school, but he knew how dangerous the streets were.
“Brayden, tell me,” Charlotte said, an urgency to her voice that made him step away from the bar.
“Lucas arrested her. They’re taking her to the field office in Austin for questioning.”
Charlotte’s face crumpled. “I’m going. I have to see her.”
She rushed toward the coat rack in the foyer and retrieved her purse. Brayden hurried after her.
“Wait, Charlotte, I’m sure Lucas will call you.”
“He arrested her,” Charlotte said. “That’s not right. I know Mila wouldn’t help those men.”
“Apparently, she did,” Brayden said. “They were at her clinic.”
Charlotte shook her head vigorously. “No. There’s more to the story. And she’s going to need a lawyer.”
Brayden threw up his hands. He didn’t want to get in the middle of an argument between Charlotte and his brother.
“Please,” Charlotte said. “Go with me and listen to what she has to say.”
Her pleading tone sucker punched him. He didn’t know Mila Manchester. But he did know Charlotte, and his brother’s wife was one of the most honest, caring women he’d ever met.
He tugged his keys from his pocket. “All right, I’ll drive you. But I’m not promising anything.”
He explained the situation to the family and agreed to keep them posted, then escorted Charlotte to his SUV. Her shaky breathing rattled in the SUV as he drove from the ranch onto the road through town, then to the highway leading to Austin.
“Tell me about this Dr. Manchester,” he said as he sped around traffic.
She retrieved a photo of the doctor on her phone. His gut pinched.
Mila Manchester was a plastic surgeon—but she could have passed for a model. Well, maybe not a model. She wasn’t rail thin or gaunt-looking or covered in layers of makeup.
Instead she was naturally beautiful. Huge dark eyes stood out against ivory skin and pale pink lips. Her hair was a fiery dark color with streaks of red.
There was also a softness about her that made her look wholesome.
He jerked his eyes back to the road. He couldn’t get distracted by her good looks. Sometimes the lookers were shallow beneath.
Charlotte twisted her hands together. “I was born with a port-wine birthmark,” Charlotte said. “No one wanted to adopt me because of it. Dr. Manchester, Mila’s mother, did volunteer work and removed it for me at no cost.” She paused, her voice warbling. “I met Mila the day before the surgery. She was about my age but wasn’t turned off by the way I looked. I guess she’d seen worse at her mother’s practice.”
“Her mother sounds like a saint.”
“She was,” Charlotte said. “I owe so much to her. And Mila. She visited me every day at the clinic while I healed. She told me she wanted to be like her mother.”
Her story was getting to Brayden. “And you think she is?”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ve read about her work. She’s generous and caring and volunteers with Doctors Without Borders... There’s no way she’d help the Shetland operation hurt innocent girls.”
Brayden hoped she was right. Lucas’s wife had been through enough without learning that her friend was a criminal.
They lapsed into silence until they reached Austin and the field office. As they parked and walked in, Charlotte grew more jittery.
Lucas was probably going to kill him for bringing her.
But her description of the doctor had piqued his curiosity.
Harrison met them at the front door.
“Lucas is about to question her,” Harrison said.
“I’d like to observe,” Brayden said.
Harrison frowned but glanced at Charlotte and seemed to realize Brayden was trying to appease Lucas’s wife. He ushered them through security, then to a room with a viewing screen to watch the interrogation.
Brayden’s gut tightened as Lucas appeared, his hand on Dr. Manchester’s arm.
Damn. Even with her long dark hair tangled and escaping a haphazard ponytail, her clothes disheveled, and her face pale and exhausted-looking, she was stunning.
She heaved a weary breath and looked up at the camera in the corner as if she knew it was there. But she didn’t make a move to fix her hair or put on pretenses.
Instead her big brown eyes were haunted and filled with fear.
Fear that made him want to find out the truth about what had happened today. Was she helping the Shetland operation?
Chapter Three
Mila fought tears, but they streamed down her face as Special Agent Lucas Hawk escorted her into an interrogation room.
He’d been careful to explain where they were and that she was in federal custody.
She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know if Izzy and Roberta were dead or alive.
