Isadora sat on a sofa next to another woman. One more man stood before them, and he wasn’t Tristan. Sajal took heart that he at least had some time. They’d have to wait for Tristan. Or would they? Did Tristan mean to kill him and his daughter? Never in all the years he’d worked for OneDefense would he have dreamed he’d be introduced to this side of the man.
“Daddy!” Isadora sprang up from the sofa and ran to him. Sobbing, she threw her arms around him.
Sajal’s heart roared with love and anger as he took her into his arms. His precious girl. How dare anyone frighten her this way.
“I’m here, Izzie. Everything’s going to be all right now,” he said.
“They’re going to kill us,” she wailed.
“You don’t know that.”
“Tory said so. She said they’re only using us for now.”
And now that he was here, would they kill him and his daughter or wait? He had to figure out a way out of here. Looking around the room, he didn’t see how. There were three guards.
He looked over his daughter’s head to the woman on the sofa. Why hadn’t Tristan killed her? Why was he holding her captive as he was Sajal and Isadora? Perhaps they had more time than Sajal thought. Perhaps Tristan had other plans for them. If only Sajal knew what.
Chapter 13
Sabrina was so tired of sitting in this car. She and Lincoln had been parked outside Tristan’s house for hours. Nothing stirred and it was late. They had taken turns drifting off to sleep. It was close to dawn. Tristan’s wife wasn’t home, and Tristan himself hadn’t spoken to anyone, at least not while he was here. And maybe the baby monitors were turned off. Lincoln’s radio receiver was awfully quiet.
“Do you think he knows we’re listening?” Sabrina asked. Tristan was probably sleeping now, but earlier he had been quiet, too.
“I don’t see how.”
Really. Radio waves were invisible, and unless he actually saw them out here, Tristan wouldn’t know they were using his wife’s baby monitor to listen in on him.
Sabrina was getting impatient. “Maybe we should call it a night. The sun is starting to come up.”
“Yeah.” But Lincoln didn’t move to start the car or drive away. She wasn’t anxious to go back to a place where there’d be beds, either. Bad enough that she had to sit next to him in this car, ever aware of him over there, his muscular thighs, his washboard stomach, his powerful arms. Those blue eyes. His hair. His voice when he spoke. What he liked to do when he wasn’t working or sitting here chasing a gun trafficker. Practically everything about him turned her on.
He was perfection to her heart. At least her head wasn’t steering her wrong. This could only be perfection if he felt the same, and clearly he didn’t. For him it was the opposite—his mind might tell him they’d be great together, but his heart was steering him wrong.
That was a new one. She’d never been involved with anyone who stopped his attraction to her. She’d dated plenty of men she’d liked but hadn’t liked her, but their heart and head worked in tandem, not against each other.
What was Lincoln so afraid of? Falling in love again only to lose it? Failing the one he loved? She looked over at him, fiddling with the receiver.
“Have you ever been to the South Platte River?” he asked.
All this time she’d been lamenting over her feelings for him and he was thinking about a river?
“No.”
“My parents took us on a camping trip to a place along its bank. I was fourteen. That’s when I discovered the glory of fishing.”
“What made you think of that?” Fishing, of all things, at a time like this. Okay, so not everything he liked to do turned her on.
“There are so many other things I’d rather be doing right now.”
Than watching for Tristan? Or being with her?
“You’d rather be fishing?” Maybe for Christmas she’d get him one of those goofy bumper stickers.
“Fishing. Camping. At home with your dog watching a hockey game. Anything but waiting for a lawbreaker to lead us somewhere.”
“I haven’t been camping in a long time.” She and her mother had gone every so often.
“You like to camp?” He sounded surprised.
“Love it. Maddie especially does.”
She saw him grin. “Do you fish?”
“No. I can’t understand why people call fishing a sport. All you do is stand there with a line in water.”
“It requires some physical activity. Hiking. Maybe rowing. Reeling in the big ones.”
She’d concede to that. “I’m not ridiculing the activity. Fishing goes hand in hand with camping. But I don’t like catching the fish.”
“Too slimy for a girl?”
“Yes. I’d rather read.”
“But you haven’t been camping in a while.”
“No.” Now that she thought of it, she missed doing things like that. Camping with her mother and their dogs had made her feel part of a family more than any other. She’d loved that about it.
“What was camping like with your parents?” she asked after a bit.
“In a fifty-foot motor home. Luxurious. Too much food. Not enough nature.”
“You prefer a tent?”
“I have a nice one.”
She smiled. He was so down-to-earth. “What a shame that it’s only gathering dust.”
The only thing left to say was “we should go sometime,” but neither spoke.
Camping with Lincoln would be romantic. So much alone time. Just the two of them in nature, comfy on a camping bed, cozy under the covers. Naked...
As soon as her mind wandered there, she stopped the imaginings.
Damn it. She’d concentrate on exposing Tristan, not her uncontrollable feelings for Lincoln.
As though on cue, Tristan’s garage door opened and his car rolled out. The sun was well on its way to rising.
“Get down,” Lincoln said.
Sabrina sank down on the seat and listened as the car drove by. When it was safe, Lincoln sat up and made a U-turn in the street. Tristan’s taillights disappeared over a hill. When they breached that, Sabrina saw Tristan turn.
Lincoln kept a safe distance behind as they merged onto a freeway.
“You’re good at this,” Sabrina commented. “Tailing people.”
“Lots of practice.”
“Do you always get your man?”
“Always.”
The way he said it confirmed what she’d guessed all along. Every time he captured a bail jumper, he avenged Miranda. How many did he have to capture before it was enough?
“Doesn’t your martial arts studio keep you busy enough?”
He glanced over at her, knowing why she’d asked.
She didn’t need him to answer. His studio would keep him plenty busy. He didn’t need the bounty hunting to supplement it.
Traffic jammed up, and they slowed to twenty miles per hour. Amazing how she could be more interested in him than in the danger of following Tristan.
They both couldn’t cook. They had both stumbled into their professions, his bounty hunting excluded. And they both preferred simple things. Lincoln was rich because of his parents and always would be, but he didn’t need money, and he didn’t allow money to dictate his destiny, although it almost had without his consent with Miranda.
Something inside of her supported her attraction, as though he’d be a good choice in a partner, or worth a chance. But that went against all she believed. She never took a chance on men like him, especially when the threat of them looking for other women reared its ugly head. Lincoln hadn’t actively looked for that woman Rayna had seen him with. Deep down, Sabrina had to acknowledge that it was her, not Lincoln’s actions, that created a barrier. It was her own lack of trust
, her own unwillingness to take chances that created the barrier. Her cardinal rule was never to become too attached to men whose interest could wander. But what if Lincoln’s would not wander?
All the men she’d dated hadn’t liked camping. Chet hadn’t. He preferred fancy hotels and restaurants. He wore suits. She’d never seen him in shorts and a T-shirt. Looking back, she couldn’t see what had attracted her. Other than his passing of her worthiness-test questions. His answers about fidelity.
Was she so obsessed with not ending up with a man like her father that she based her decisions solely on that? If a man looked good enough to her, all he had to do was pass the Trust, Faithfulness, Commitment test?
Chet had been a practiced liar. Sabrina hadn’t been the first woman he’d duped. He enjoyed a steady woman with excitement on the side. He’d actually told her that after she’d caught him. He didn’t want a monogamous relationship.
Thinking of him now, she couldn’t come up with a single thing about his personality that she liked. In fact, she didn’t like anything. He had been selfish and cold. Never held her hand. Their conversations had been all about him. When she’d talked about herself, he’d frequently cut her off and changed the topic back to himself. He’d been nice in some ways, though. His attention had come in the form of flowers and dinners and weekend trips. He’d complimented her on her looks and had been a gentle lover.
Lincoln listened to her. She looked over at his strong hands on the wheel and then ahead at the packed freeway. Tristan’s car was barely visible, but he was stuck in traffic, too.
“What do you look for in a woman?” She had to know.
Lincoln glanced over at her. “Compatibility, mostly.”
“And looks.” She grinned over at him.
“Yeah. But finding someone who wants me for me and who I want the same way is more important. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” She looked out the window at the other cars moving at a snail’s pace.
“Saying your thoughts out loud?”
He’d read between the lines and guessed where her thoughts had been to make her ask that question. What kind of woman would cure him of his commitment problem? Make him forget Miranda and learn how to love again. When the idea of her being the woman who had what it took to win him surfaced, she grew depressed. She didn’t welcome anything that made her feel insecure, and that did. Chances were she would not have what it took. No woman would. Not until he, and he alone, came to grips with Miranda’s death.
She didn’t answer, hoping he’d let it drop.
“What do you look for in a man?”
Drat. “The same thing, plus morals.”
“Ah. That again.”
“No.” She decided not to hold back. What did she have to lose? Nothing she’d ever have, anyway. “I did focus too much on that. Truth is, I don’t know what to look for in a man. I mean, how do you know if you’re compatible?” As she spoke she realized more and more that she was still hurt over Chet. Not because she’d loved him; because he’d lied and she hadn’t seen that about him. Had her mother been as poor a judge of character? Was that why she’d lived alone most her life? And was Sabrina fated for the same destiny because she’d never learned not only what she needed in a man, but how to find him?
She’d put Lincoln to task over needing to get over Miranda when she was in just as dire need to do the same with Chet. And perhaps even more, her father. Maybe she did have abandonment issues.
Traffic began to open up, and she noticed Lincoln hadn’t answered her. A glance at him presented a thoughtful profile, brow marginally low, mouth firm. He couldn’t answer her. He didn’t know.
They both didn’t know what to look for in a partner. They’d thought they had. Until now.
Tristan took the next exit and Lincoln followed. This wasn’t the best area of L.A. Sabrina watched all the old, run-down stores pass by her window.
When Tristan drove into an alley next to a pawn shop, Lincoln drove by and turned a corner to park.
“What’s he doing down here?”
“Good question. Why don’t you wait here while I find out?”
“I’ll go with you.” Waiting here would be just as dangerous as going with him. What if someone recognized her, or one of Tristan’s men noticed her? Besides, sticking together was better than separating.
Lincoln didn’t argue, but as they walked toward the Easy Pawn he took out his gun and kept it at his side, looking around. There were a few people walking the street, and cars drove by, but no one took notice of them. A bum leaned against the front of a vacant store three doors down. When he saw them, he headed down the street as though he knew trouble was on the way.
In front of the shop, Lincoln peered into the window. A closed sign was visible on the door. He removed a tool from its compact case.
“What if there’s an alarm?” Sabrina whispered.
“Then the cops will come,” he said.
“Isn’t that a bad thing?”
“Maybe not. Depends on what is going on in here.”
And whatever that was, they’d be walking in blind.
Compact and light, the blade worked quietly as he sliced a circle in the glass of the door. A suction cup helped remove the hand-size piece from it. Taking out the piece of glass, Lincoln put the tool away and reached his hand in the door to unlock the dead bolt.
Sabrina went inside after him. Pawned items filled shelves and display cases. There was a door leading to the back that was closed, but she could hear voices. Urgent tones, sometimes rising. A girl was crying softly.
Lincoln stopped and faced her. “Please, wait here.”
She nodded.
He leaned down and kissed her mouth, brief and hard. Then he looked into her eyes, passing a sultry message before getting back to action.
She moved to the side of the door, near the checkout counter. With one more look, he opened the door a crack. A man stood with a teenage girl. Sajal. Who was the girl? Sabrina moved just a bit and saw a blonde woman. The door blocked sight of Tristan and whoever else was in there with him. There were at least two other men. Sabrina could hear them moving, and one of them coughed.
“Go outside and keep watch,” Tristan said to someone.
The sound of a door opening and closing followed. At least one man had left the room.
“You’re a fool if you think you can get away with this,” a woman’s voice said, the blonde woman.
“Shut up,” Tristan growled.
“How many people do you think you can kill before you get caught?” the woman persisted.
“I haven’t killed anyone.”
“No, but you pay people to do it for you. Wade found out too much about your new friends, so you killed him. What did Cesar Castillo do?”
“He disagreed with me,” Tristan said.
In other words, he’d refused to go along with whatever Tristan had planned for him and his store.
Sabrina exchanged a look with Lincoln.
“What have these two innocent people done?”
The blonde was trying to save Sajal and his daughter. Who was she?
“Kill them. Leave her here.”
“Daddy,” the young girl pleaded, scared.
“It’s okay, Izzie,” Sajal said, wrapping his arm around her.
They were going to kill a young girl and her father? As Tristan moved into sight, Sabrina jumped back, startled and afraid he’d see her or Lincoln. She tripped, her hand going down onto the checkout counter for balance and bumping a pen holder. It clattered to the floor.
Horrified, she met Lincoln’s equally incredulous eyes. He had moved to the side of the door when Tristan came into view, pistol aimed down toward the floor.
“Go see what that was.” Tristan’s angry voice sent Sabrina’s pulse in
to rapid beats. “Why is that door open? Wasn’t it shut when you came here? I told you to keep it locked.”
“Sorry, sir,” a man said.
Footsteps approached.
Fear paralyzed Sabrina. Lincoln readied himself.
A man opened the door wider and peered into the shop, spotting her.
Before the man could move, Lincoln swung his arm and expertly planted a strike on the man’s face. Then he drove his knee to the man’s sternum and pounded the back of his head with his gun. The man dropped.
Lincoln stepped over him and entered the back room. He shot another man in the leg, and Tristan ran for the side door. At that moment, Sajal pushed the young girl toward the shop doorway. Sabrina grabbed the girl’s wrist and pulled her safely out of the way, tucking her behind her. She was close enough to the door to see the blonde crouching at the end of a sofa. Sajal joined Sabrina and the young girl behind the protection of the wall.
“Get me out of here!” Tristan shouted to what must have been the guard outside the side door.
The guard fired at Lincoln, who fired back three times. The side door slammed shut, and Tristan and the other man got away.
Lincoln ran to the front of the store. Tristan’s car swung out into the street.
In the back room, the woman who’d crouched by the sofa now had the shot man’s gun and aimed it at him as he groaned in agony and held his bleeding knee. The man Lincoln had knocked unconscious remained unmoving.
Sabrina joined Lincoln at the front window as he put his gun away. Sajal and the young girl followed.
Sajal put his hand on Lincoln’s shoulder. “I don’t know who you are, but I owe you my life for saving my daughter.”
Lincoln faced him. “You don’t owe me anything. Tristan Coulter has caused enough trouble for all of us. I’m just sorry he got away.”
“You saved my daughter,” he said. “I cannot repay you enough for that.”
Armed and Famous Page 18
