by LENA DIAZ,
He’d showered recently. His short, nearly black hair was still damp. And he was wearing fresh clothes—jeans, boots and a blue pullover shirt that made his eyes look an even darker blue than usual.
Not that any of that mattered.
She shouldn’t care how gorgeous he looked, or how incredibly wonderful his warm skin felt against hers. But he’d never focused the full force of his attention on her before, not like this, as if the only thing that mattered in the world was her.
“Donna? Help me out here. I have no idea what that sharp mind of yours is thinking right now. Are you about to forgive me, or should I run for my truck before you pull out your gun?” His mouth quirked up in a half grin that had her toes curling against the floor.
Good grief, what was wrong with her? She was obviously more tired than she’d thought. And the day’s events had made her emotions raw. Blake the police officer she could handle. Blake the sexy, nice, attentive man sitting across from her—holding her hand—was draining her IQ points by the second. If she didn’t do something fast, she’d start stuttering and batting her eyelashes at him. Or worse, lunge across the couch and find out once and for all if he was the excellent kisser that she’d always fantasized that he would be.
His brows crinkled with concern. “Donna? Are you okay? You look flushed.” He reached toward her face as if to check her for a fever.
She jerked back and yanked her hand free. Popping up from the couch, she said the first thing that flashed into her mind. “I have to pee.”
His eyes widened.
She groaned and sprinted from the room.
* * *
WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED? Blake stared at the empty spot on the couch beside him where Donna had been sitting just seconds earlier. Obviously he’d upset her, or she wouldn’t have run out of the room like that. But other than an apology, he couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to make things worse.
He blew out a frustrated breath and stood. He was too agitated to keep sitting on the couch, so he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Now that he’d delivered his pathetic apology, with disastrous results, he wasn’t even sure whether he should hang around to tell her the other reason that he was here. After all, there were dozens of explanations for his concerns—all of which seemed valid and far more likely than the insane scenario that kept running through his head. Maybe he should have started with the scenario and skipped the apology part. But he’d been worried that she’d be too angry to listen if he didn’t smooth things over first.
A lot of good that had done.
He checked his watch. Thirty minutes to midnight on a Saturday. This was silly. He should just go home and try to sleep off the aftereffects of a very nasty hangover that was already making his head pound in spite of the aspirin he’d taken. Everything was bound to look different in the morning. His concerns would be proven false, and everyone would go about their lives like normal.
Except for him.
Nothing had been normal in his life for a very long time.
“Blake.”
He turned to see Donna standing by the recliner, her brow lined with worry. He cleared his throat and stepped over to her. “Whatever I did, if my apology somehow offended you, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“What? No, no. You did nothing wrong. It was just...” She shook her head. “Forget it. It was something stupid. Nothing to worry about. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Then we’re good? You’re not upset with me?”
“I’m upset that you got yourself fired. And I’ll be really upset if you don’t try to talk to Dillon to get your job back. Maybe if you just apologize to him, explain your side—”
“That’s why I’m here. I mean, other than trying to fix things between you and me. I came here because I did try to contact Dillon. I wanted to meet with him, just the two of us, and talk this thing out.”
“Oh, well, that’s great. We’re supposed to go back to Hawkins Ridge for another exercise in the morning, around nine. Maybe you could go up there and talk to him then, while the rest of us are getting everything set up.” She frowned. “Why are you giving me a funny look? What’s wrong?”
“It could be nothing.”
“Tell me.”
Lightning flashed off in the distance, illuminating the front windows. A distant boom of thunder followed. And still, he couldn’t seem to force the words out. The longer he stood there, the more he felt like he’d jumped the gun. The whiskey and his hangover were dulling his brain, not to mention the lateness of the hour.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Forget it. It’s stupid. I’ll do what you said, try to catch Dillon in the morning before your training session. Sorry I bothered you so late.” He circled around her and headed for the door. He’d just flipped the dead bolt and was reaching for the doorknob when she grabbed it instead. He looked at her in question.
“You’re not leaving yet. Something bothered you enough to come over here close to midnight to talk to me. It wasn’t just to tell me you were sorry. What’s going on? Talk to me.”
He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Forget it. I’m sure it’s just the storm interfering with signals. Or maybe they’re all too ticked at me to answer. I ignored dozens of texts and calls from you, and it didn’t mean I needed help.”
“Blake, if you don’t start making sense, I swear I’m going to shoot you.”
By the irritated look on her face, he didn’t doubt that she would. He let out a deep breath and prepared himself for her laughter. “Dillon’s missing.”
She blinked. Then blinked again.
“See?” he said. “Told you it was stupid. It’s nonsense. I went off half-cocked and still half-drunk and imagined all sorts of crazy things. I’m sure he’s fine.” He reached for the doorknob, motioning for her to move her hand.
She suddenly stood on her tiptoes, leaned in close and sniffed.
He jerked back. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing if I can smell whiskey on your breath.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not drunk. I haven’t touched a drop since you left me at the bar.”
“And yet you said that Dillon’s missing. What does that mean?”
The smile hovering on her lips had him feeling even more ridiculous. “I wanted to talk to him, like I said. So as soon as I sobered up, I called, both cell phone and radio. He didn’t answer.”
She shrugged. “Why would he? He fired you. I doubt he ever wants to talk to you again. Which is why you need to go see him in person—”
“I did. I went to his horse ranch. He wasn’t there. Neither was his wife and daughter. The guy who oversees the operations—”
“Griffin.”
He nodded. “Griffin. He said Mrs. Gray and her daughter had gone off on some cruise. But he didn’t know where Dillon was. He figured he was still in the woods, conducting training exercises.”
“What time was this?”
“Close to nine, I imagine.”
She glanced past him, probably to the wall clock that he’d noticed over the TV earlier. “It’s way too late to try calling him again. I’m sure he’s okay, though. Dillon’s one of the most capable men I know. He—”
“I called Randy, too.”
“Okay. What did he say about Dillon?”
“Nothing. Randy didn’t answer his phone either.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s not like him. Even if he was upset, which is a rare thing for him, he wouldn’t have ignored your call.”
“That was my thought, too. So I called Max. Then Chris. I even tried the chief, on his home phone. No one answered any of my calls. I would have at least expected the chief’s wife to answer.”
She shook her head. “She’s on the cruise with Ashley. All the team’s wives went—Dillon’s wife, Ashley, and their baby, the chief
’s wife, Claire, Max’s wife, Bex, and Chris’s wife, Julie. It’s a law-enforcement family cruise some charity put together, a getaway for the families who do so much to support their law-enforcement loved ones. That’s how it was advertised, anyway. That’s why Dillon scheduled the training this weekend. I could have sworn you knew all this. Scenic Cruises? Out of Miami? It was organized by some charity group out of Knoxville. I’m sure Dillon mentioned it.”
“I’m sure he mentions lots of things to you. He and I rarely speak unless he’s ordering me around or telling me I screwed up.” He waved his hand in the air. “Forget it. That’s not the point. I tried calling all of them tonight. No one answered. It’s highly likely that they’re ignoring me because of what happened today, and I overreacted. But I couldn’t ignore it without letting you know. Just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
He fisted his hands at his sides, feeling like an idiot. But he’d gone this far. He might as well go all in. “In case the entire SWAT team was abducted. Minus you and me, of course.”
She blinked again. Then she started laughing.
He endured her laughter for a full minute. He couldn’t take more than that. He brushed her hand off the doorknob and yanked open the door.
“Blake, wait. I’m sorry. Please don’t go. I shouldn’t have laughed at you. But you know cell service around here is awful. Your calls probably didn’t even go through.”
Since her voice was still laced with laughter, he didn’t bother to reply. He strode out of the house and took the porch steps two at a time.
“Blake?”
He hopped into his truck and took off down the road, punching the gas to give free rein to his sour mood and temper. That was when he hit the first huge pothole. The front right tire slammed into the hole, and the entire truck lurched at a sickening angle before the tire popped out again. He cursed and was forced to slow to a near crawl. It took him a good ten minutes just to reach the end of the street-from-hell.
A flash of white zoomed at him from the left. He jerked around to see Donna’s white Ford Escape barreling onto the road from an overgrown field. He swore and slammed his brakes, skidding and coming to a bouncing halt just a few feet from her driver’s side door.
She stopped too, her face looking pale and drawn as she stared at him through her driver’s side window, illuminated by his headlights. Before he could even unbuckle his seat belt, she was out of her SUV and running to his passenger door. He pushed the button to roll down the window.
“What the hell was that for?” he demanded. “You almost made me run right into you.”
“I called them,” she said. “The whole team. No one answered. I sent a group text. Nothing.” She swallowed, looking visibly shaken. “I even tried the radio. All I got was static. It’s not raining anymore. We can’t blame the storm now. I can see them not answering your calls. But they wouldn’t worry me like this. My God, Blake. What’s going on?”
He popped open the passenger door. “Get in.”
Chapter Five
Blake slowed his truck to turn down a gravel road that would lead them to the wooded area where they’d conducted the paintball exercise that morning. Beside him, Donna clutched a flashlight in her hands, anxiously staring through the windshield.
“What happened after I left Hawkins Ridge?” he asked. “Did Dillon take the team to another training site, maybe in one of those communication dead zones? Since you didn’t have a partner at that point, I would guess he sent you home early. Maybe they decided to stay late, or came back for round two long after you were gone.” He steered around a rut in the road.
“No. I mean, yes. Both.” She swiped at her bangs, something she rarely did unless she was upset. “After Dillon...ordered you to leave, I...uh...went home early. Like you said. You know, because I didn’t have a partner.”
“Okay. He continued the training without you, then. Like I said, the communications might not be working. Or maybe the storm caught them by surprise, and they had to wait it out. A rain-swollen creek could have prevented them crossing, and they’re sitting it out until it goes down.”
“No. That’s not it. He did send me home early. But training was over for the day. All that was left was for the team to clean the equipment and stow it in their trunks for next time. You know what a stickler Dillon is about maintaining equipment, even fake guns. Cleaning them and prepping the gear for the trip back would have taken a good half hour, maybe forty-five minutes. But he wouldn’t have kept anyone longer than that. He kept up with the weather reports, knew a storm was moving in. No way would he risk anyone’s safety by having them out in the middle of it. I’m telling you, they’re not training.”
The gravel ended, and the remaining fifty yards of road was dirt. The truck bounced around the last curve, and the clearing was revealed up ahead. But it wasn’t empty. Five trucks sat parked side by side, exactly as they’d been that morning. Blake gave Donna a puzzled glance as he parked beside them. He killed the engine and looked over at the obviously empty vehicles.
“Why would they still be up here?” he asked. “It doesn’t look like the vehicles have moved at all. I thought you said Dillon wanted everyone home, safe, with the storm coming in.”
“He did.” Her voice was quiet and strained, her face pale with worry for her friends. She opened her door.
“Wait. Did you call the station when you were making all those calls earlier?”
“Yes. The chief and the team hadn’t checked in. But I was careful not to alarm the skeleton night staff. I was blasé in how I asked the question.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s see if there’s a reasonable explanation, or whether we need to raise the alarm after all.”
He left the engine running with the headlights on to help them see better. But even with that, and a bright moon overhead, it was difficult to see much beyond the beams of their flashlights.
They took turns shouting out to the team. But no one answered. After a few minutes of searching, they were back at the parking area, with no clue about where their friends had gone.
Or, rather, where Donna’s friends had gone.
To Blake, they’d always been just coworkers. Now, after he’d been fired, they weren’t even that. But they all bled blue. If something had happened, he was darn well going to do everything he could to help them.
Whether they wanted him to or not.
“Maybe there was a medical emergency,” Blake theorized. “If they stayed up here awhile after you left—maybe to do another training exercise—and they got caught in the storm—”
“Dillon wouldn’t let that happen. He would have gotten them out of here before the storm let loose.”
Her steadfast trust in Dillon was a little irritating. Blake didn’t think the man could walk on water the way Donna did. “He’s not a meteorologist. Let’s assume for a moment that he misjudged the storm, that after you left he decided they should train a little longer, and they got caught out here. They took shelter somewhere, maybe in the old barn, where our fake perpetrator was hiding during the paint ball exercise. They could have holed up inside to wait out the storm. After the lightning stopped, something else happened. Maybe the chief had a heart attack, or one of them got cut or something. So they needed to take him back down the mountain to get him help.”
He pointed to the puddles still in the dirt, the wet spots on the trunks of the trees closest to the clearing. “Judging by the way the slope runs here, this parking lot is probably like a bowl in the rain. It could have been a small lake by the time the storm passed, and they couldn’t get to their vehicles.”
“So they just, what, trekked through the woods and got lost? Even if someone was hurt and they had to hoof it down the mountain, where are they now? They grew up around here. Getting lost isn’t something that would happen.”
“What else could have happened? I don’t see
any tire tracks or footprints. No signs of anyone else coming up here. In spite of my fears earlier, foul play against an entire SWAT team seems hard to believe.”
“A SWAT team with fake guns,” she said, her voice quiet. “Dillon was all about safety. He made us lock up our real guns and ammo while we did the exercises. He didn’t want to risk an accidental shooting.”
He studied her. “What are you saying? That instead of accepting that they could be lost in the woods, you think someone came up here and...what? What did he do with them?”
“No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m just throwing out the facts as we know them. The team drove up but didn’t drive back down. They aren’t answering their phones, radios or us yelling at the top of our lungs. Something bad must have happened.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper the next time she spoke. “I think we may be in over our heads. We should call the station, get some volunteers out here to help us conduct a more thorough search. Even if they’re not lost, they could be stranded somewhere, maybe in a cell phone and radio dead zone. Obviously something happened to them or their vehicles wouldn’t still be here.”
“Agreed. We need to get some help out here.”
He raised his flashlight beam, training it straight ahead, slicing a path of light through the darkness of trees and bushes about twenty feet away. “While you make that call, I’m going to go deeper in to check that barn and the clearing in front of it. There have to be some footprints there, maybe a piece of torn fabric caught on a branch. I’d like to find some tangible proof that might show us where the team was last. The trackers will want to start from the last known position.”
She shoved her cell phone back into her pocket. “We’re not splitting up. I’m your partner. We’ll check it out together. Then I’ll call this in.”
