by Rita Herron
Anger radiated through Brayden. So Corley, or DiSanti, or both, had used Jorge’s status as an immigrant to coerce him into doing their dirty work.
His gaze met Jorge’s. “Just what did you have to do to earn it?”
Chapter Eighteen
Indecision played across the ranch hand’s face. Jorge was definitely scared. Of being deported? Or maybe his family had been threatened as Mila’s had?
The sound of an engine roaring closer made panic streak Jorge’s face. Corley and Lucas returning. Dammit.
“I told you I know nothing,” the cowboy said. “I just do my job.”
“Does that job entail holding innocent girls hostage?”
A muscle ticked in the young man’s jaw as he looked down at his shovel.
“We think that’s what Corley is into,” Brayden said. “Do you really want to live off money made that way? Is your freedom worth the life of a little three-year-old girl?”
Jorge winced.
“Think about it,” Brayden said as Corley approached. “Do you have a sister or friend with a sister? Would you want her sold as a sex slave?”
The man looked up at him as if he was going to say something, but Corley’s truck roared to a stop in front of them, gravel spewing, and Jorge clammed up.
Brayden slipped a business card from his pocket and pushed it into Jorge’s hand. “Call me if you can help. If they take this little girl out of the country, her mother may never see her again.”
The truck door slammed, and Corley climbed out, looking pissed. Lucas followed, his expression indicating he hadn’t found anything helpful.
Brayden’s cell phone buzzed. Mila.
He quickly connected. “Yeah?”
“Did you find her?” Mila asked, her voice quivering.
God, he hated to tell her no. “Not at Corley’s. Hopefully one of the ranch hands or the cook will talk. We’ll see.”
A tense heartbeat passed. “Charlotte and I have been talking to the girls who regained consciousness. They’re frightened, but they said that they were taken from a group home called Happy Trails. It was supposed to be a ranch for girls, but men were brought there for them to entertain. They were also dressed up and photographed.”
“For potential clients,” Brayden guessed.
“I think so.”
“Where is this place?” Brayden asked.
“Neither girl knew the location. I was hoping you could find out.”
“I’ll talk to Lucas. Anything else?”
“A social worker named Valeria took them to the home. She might be in on the Shetland operation.”
Hard to believe another woman would be involved, but it happened.
“A woman named Shanika was also at the ranch,” Mila said. “Izzy could be there, Brayden.”
“Lucas and I will get right on it. Hang in there.”
“I could go with you,” Mila said.
Brayden hesitated. If Happy Trails was a holding ground for the Shetland operation, it would be dangerous.
“I think you’re better off there,” Brayden said. “You and Charlotte did good today. See what else you can learn from the victims.”
Silence stretched between them for a long moment.
“Mila?”
“I’m here,” she said. “Just find her, Brayden. I can’t let her end up like these girls.”
He wouldn’t let that happen either. “I promise, we’ll bring her back to you.”
Damn, even as he made the promise, he knew he shouldn’t, that he might not be able to deliver on it.
Then Mila would hate him.
That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He wanted to be her hero. Save her daughter.
Be the man she could turn to and trust.
Disappointing her would crush him.
* * *
THE AFTERNOON DRAGGED into evening as Mila and Charlotte sat with the girls. They moved Keenan in with Frannie and Anita and encouraged them to rest.
Mila checked her phone a dozen times, but still no word. She paced the waiting room while Charlotte went to check on the other two girls.
Why had DiSanti’s men sent her that message and not followed through?
Her anxiety rose with every passing second. Did they know she’d turned to the Hawks for help? Had they discovered that Lucas and Brayden had rescued these girls?
Would they punish her daughter because they’d foiled DiSanti’s plans?
Charlotte appeared with coffee in hand. “Unfortunately, the other girls couldn’t offer anything more. Except that one of them confirmed that a girl named Jade was with Izzy and that she was taking care of her.”
That was a small relief, but Mila latched onto it as they walked back to say good-night to the girls.
Lucas had arranged for guards to watch the girls’ rooms, and the doctor agreed to keep her updated. Charlotte planned to coordinate with the Department of Family and Protective Services regarding the teens.
Charlotte hugged each of them and promised to visit the next day.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Keenan asked.
Charlotte stroked Keenan’s hand. “We’ll find you a safe place to live, someone who’ll care for you and help you get back on your feet, and back in school. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Mila hugged her, as well. “She’s right, Keenan. Charlotte and I are on your side. You’re not alone now.”
Keenan didn’t look completely convinced, but her eyes were closing, fatigue weighing on her, and she drifted to sleep.
“Come on,” Charlotte said. “Ava has dinner waiting for us.”
“Ava?”
“Lucas’s mother,” Charlotte said. “She’s amazing. Honey and Harrison will be there, too.”
Mila hesitated, willing a message to appear on her phone. But she checked it. Nothing.
“I don’t want to endanger the Hawks,” Mila said.
Charlotte grabbed her hand. “We all have a vested interest in seeing that DiSanti is stopped once and for all. You’ll understand when you meet the girls the Hawks took in.” A twinkle flickered in Charlotte’s eye. “Besides, we have to talk to Ava and see if she has room in her heart for a few more young women in need.”
* * *
IT TOOK A while to locate Happy Trails. Brayden would have thought it would have been well-known, at least on the internet, but it wasn’t.
A sign of what it had been used for and by whom. DiSanti’s group had wanted to keep it under the radar.
Damn him.
Charlotte had faxed sketches of Valeria and Shanika to Lucas to forward to the FBI field office in Austin. Their analyst forwarded them to law enforcement agencies and alerted airports, train and bus stations, and the border patrol to be on the lookout for the women, especially if they were traveling with a little girl.
Izzy had been gone too damn long for comfort. For all they knew, DiSanti’s people could have carried her halfway across the world by now.
Or killed her and dumped her little body someplace where they might never find her.
No. He couldn’t let himself think about the worst case. And he certainly couldn’t divulge those concerns to Mila.
He and his family understood how painful it was to live year after year with no word of where your loved one was, or if they were dead or alive.
First his little sister, Chrissy. Then his father.
Lucas’s phone buzzed, and he hit Connect. “Yeah. Okay. See you there.”
“That was Charlotte,” he said when he hung up. “She’s driving Mila to the ranch. Mom has dinner. I told her we’d meet them there.”
Brayden nodded. His mother would love Mila.
He liked her. A lot. Maybe more than like. He wanted to be with her and rescue her daughter more than he
’d ever wanted anything in his life.
Lucas steered the vehicle down the road leading to Happy Trails. Brayden spotted smoke in the distance.
“Look,” he said, pointing toward the east. “There’s a fire.”
Lucas hit the gas and sped up. “That’s the ranch,” he said through gritted teeth.
Brayden gripped the seat edge as Lucas raced toward the smoke. Gravel spewed from their tires, gears grinding as he maneuvered a pothole and flew over a small hill. The smoke was growing thicker, curling up into the sky.
As soon as they dipped downhill, Brayden spotted flames. They engulfed the main house and two buildings to the side.
“Call the fire department,” Lucas said as he took the curve on two wheels.
Brayden punched 9-1-1 and gripped the seat edge as Lucas swung the vehicle near a cluster of live oaks and careened to a stop. Flames shot into the sky, lighting up the darkness. Suddenly a black pickup darted from behind the burning building and roared past them.
Brayden threw the car door open and jumped out. “Go after him! I’ll see if anyone’s inside!”
Lucas hesitated for a second, but Brayden waved at him to go. If the person in the car knew where Izzy was, he was getting away.
Lucas sped after the vehicle, and Brayden ran toward the burning farmhouse. Flames shot from the roof and back of the house, and smoke billowed upward in a thick fog.
Brayden yanked a bandanna from inside his jacket and tied it around his mouth, then darted through the front door. Smoke seeped through the entry, but the blaze hadn’t yet reached the doorway.
He conducted a quick survey of the house. All one floor. Rooms to the right, a hall to the left that probably led to bedrooms.
“Is anyone here?” he shouted as he glanced down the hall.
Wood crackled and popped in the blaze, but he didn’t hear voices. Still, he shouted again and again as he raced down the hall to the bedrooms. He jumped over wood that had splintered down from the ceiling, dodging flames as the fire crawled along the doorways eating the rotting wood.
Two rooms held a series of single beds that resembled a dorm. He counted a dozen, although fire was spreading quickly. He dodged flames as he checked the closets to make sure no one was hiding or had been left inside.
Flames rippled up the wall, catching the curtains on fire and crawling toward the beds. He raced to the next room, dodging falling debris, and wove between patches of burning embers to check those beds and the closet. Clothes inside the closet were aflame, but no one was inside.
Relieved, he headed back to the front then into the hall toward the kitchen. Already fire blazed a trail along the back wall. He coughed, but had to check the storage closet.
Smoke created a thick fog, but he dived through it, calling out as he went. Surely DiSanti’s goonies wouldn’t have left anyone inside, especially Izzy.
He reached out to touch the doorknob of the pantry, but it was hot, so he searched the kitchen for some cloths, grabbed one, wrapped it around his hand and opened the door.
His gut tightened at the sight of a woman inside the closet. Dammit. Too late. She was dead. A gunshot wound to the front of her head.
He stooped to check for a pulse anyway, but knew she was gone. Judging from the sketch Charlotte had sent, this was Shanika, the woman from Happy Trails.
* * *
THE HOMEY SCENTS of apple pie and beef stew wafted through the Hawks’ main house, stirring memories of Mila’s own family when she was little. Granted, they hadn’t stayed in one place long, but they had shared meals as often as possible.
Mrs. Hawk took her hands and pulled her into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, dear, but my boys will find your daughter. I have faith.”
She wanted to have faith, too, but she was struggling. “Thank you for having me here tonight, Mrs. Hawk.”
“Please call me Ava,” the woman said. “We’re all family.”
Four teenagers were chatting and laughing as they set the table. Charlotte pulled her toward the doorway. “Mila, this is Mae Lynn, Evie, Adrian and Agnes.”
The girls piped up with hellos and how much they loved the ranch.
Mila’s adopted mother would have loved Ava. She’d opened her home to four teenagers in need and treated them like her own children.
The girls helped carry platters of food to the table, then the door opened and Ava greeted her oldest son, Harrison. Amazing how much the men resembled one another, but each was distinct.
“I’m Honey,” a perky, very pregnant blonde said as she gave Ava a hug.
Mila exchanged greetings with the couple, her heart squeezing at the sight of Honey’s blossoming belly. She hadn’t gotten to carry Izzy herself, but she loved that child as if she had.
“My grandson will be here soon,” Ava said with a beaming smile for Honey. “It’ll be pure joy to have a baby around the house again.”
Izzy’s little face taunted Mila. Her arms felt empty, and she ached to hug her daughter. Never again would she take it for granted when she sang Izzy a lullaby or tucked her in bed or read her a good-night story, even if she read the same story a dozen times.
She barely managed to keep her emotions at bay during the meal. Thankfully the girls filled the silence with talk of Christmas shopping and the gifts they were making for the children’s hospital. Ava was teaching them to piece quilts, and they were making blankets for the kids to snuggle with and take home when they were released.
After dessert, the teenagers retreated to the arts and craft room Ava had set up for them to work on the Christmas projects.
Harrison cleared his throat and stood. “Mom, thanks for dinner. I’m going to get Honey home. The baby’s been keeping her up at night.”
“It’s only the beginning,” Ava said with a laugh.
Mila watched as Harrison helped Honey stand. He was sweet and protective and loving just as Lucas was to Charlotte.
“I hope everything goes well during delivery,” Mila said.
Honey gave Mila a sympathetic smile. “Thanks. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’ll say a prayer that Lucas and Brayden find your daughter soon.”
Mila thanked her, then they said good-night. “You have a beautiful family, Ava,” Mila told Brayden’s mother.
“I’m blessed, for sure,” Ava said. “My boys, and now their wives, and now Mae Lynn and Evie and Adrian and Agnes.” She pressed her hand over her chest. “My heart is bursting with love.”
“I’m so proud of those girls,” Charlotte said. “You’ve made such a difference in their lives, Ava. They’re blossoming under your care.”
A broad smile curved Ava Hawk’s face. “They’ve given me just as much as I’ve given them.” She clasped Charlotte’s hand. “Tell me about the ones you rescued today.”
Mila listened quietly while Charlotte filled her in. But worry and fatigue weighed on her, and finally she stood. “If it’s all right, I’m going to the cabin to get some rest.” Maybe if she was alone for a while, DiSanti would finally get back in touch.
Concern darkened Charlotte’s eyes. “I’ll drive you over.”
She didn’t have time to respond. Footsteps sounded from the front. Then Lucas’s and Brayden’s voices.
Mila hurried to meet them, hoping they had good news. But the moment she saw their grim expressions and smelled the smoke on Brayden, her hopes died.
Charlotte and Ava joined them, and Ava gasped when she saw Brayden’s soot-streaked face. “Son, what happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Brayden said. “When we reached the house at Happy Trails, it was on fire. I ran in to make sure no one was inside.”
Lucas relayed how he’d chased the man who’d set the fire. “I tried to catch him, but he crashed into a ravine and died instantly.”
Brayden gave Mila’s arm a
soft squeeze. “Izzy wasn’t in the house or outbuildings, Mila. I searched every nook and corner.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, we found that woman Shanika.”
“Did she tell you anything?” Mila asked.
Brayden’s eyes darkened. “I’m afraid not. She was dead.”
Fear clogged Mila’s throat, despair threatening. DiSanti’s men killed the woman who’d helped them at Happy Trails.
What did that mean for Izzy?
Chapter Nineteen
Brayden sensed despair in Mila’s body language.
She had been taking care of DiSanti’s victims, he reminded himself. That alone would weigh on anyone with a heart. And Mila had plenty of heart.
“Would you like to go back to the cabin?” he asked.
Mila nodded and looked down at the floor. “You’re probably hungry though. Your mother made a delicious dinner.”
“I’ll pack him a plate to go,” Ava said.
“Thanks, Mom, but Lucas and I grabbed something earlier.”
Hugs went all the way around as Lucas gathered Charlotte, and he escorted Mila out to his SUV.
“Did you really eat?” Mila asked as Brayden drove her back to his cabin.
“We grabbed a burger while we were waiting on the location of Happy Trails.”
He parked in front of the cabin and they went inside. “Do you mind if I take a shower?” Mila asked.
A shower was nothing. He wished he could offer her more. “Of course not. It’s been a long day.”
“The longest,” she said in a weary voice.
He swallowed hard as he watched her duck into his guest bedroom, then the shower kicked on, and he decided to clean up himself. He smelled like smoke and soot and sweat.
The hot water felt heavenly, although thoughts of Mila in his other bathroom naked and wet ignited a different kind of tension, one that made his body harden with desire.
Dammit, Brayden. The last thing Mila needs is you coming on to her.
He toweled off, shrugged on clean jeans and a T-shirt and strode into the den. But the sound of Mila crying echoed from the bedroom and tied him in knots.
