In the Enemy's Arms

by Marilyn Pappano

  Wallace’s laugh sent a chill through her, forcing her to lean against the fender to stay upright.

  “Maybe I was wrong earlier. You weren’t playing stupid. You really are. Do you have any idea how many little girls there are in the world that nobody wants? I could replace these twenty-two with two hundred twenty-two in no time, and I’d have buyers clamoring for every one.” He gestured again, and the men with guns came closer. Two more exited the plane.

  When were Rick and Evan going to step in? It seemed the moment the plane’s door had opened would have been a good time, or any second since then. Right now Cate would be happy to see the crabby FBI agent or even an airport security guard—anyone with a gun. “What are you waiting for?” she whispered.

  She startled when Evan answered. “He just admitted to selling the kids. Anytime now.”

  Of course. A rich man like Joseph Wallace could buy the best defense ever. The more evidence, the stronger the case. Rick’s team had set up cameras and were filming the exchange. What juror could watch Wallace talk so callously about selling and killing little girls and not convict him?

  “My property, please,” Wallace said, and Justin finally moved, walking forward to set the flash drive on top of a wooden crate halfway between them.

  “And the girl.”

  “Since you sold her to the Suttons, isn’t she technically their property?”

  “Technically, I suppose. But if they can’t control an eight-year-old, I’ll find a buyer who can.” Impatience shimmered in his next words. “Quit talking and get her out here. I’ve got a meeting in the morning regarding the children’s home we’re opening in El Salvador next month. I predict we’ll be able to make a large number of placements with clients—er, parents—eager to bring grateful children into their lives.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t want to miss that,” Justin grumbled as he started toward the SUV.

  “Okay,” Evan murmured from inside the truck, and a soft thud sounded as he tossed a set of hearing protection ear muffs into the passenger seat.

  Cate picked them up, her gaze darting from Justin, looking grim but relieved, to Evan, hastily putting an oversize pair of protectors onto Luisa. As Justin opened the door, he gave her a wink and a lazy grin, with a subtle backward nod.

  She stepped a few feet to the right, the movement enough to catch Trent’s attention, and fitted the thick padded cups over her ears. He murmured to Susanna, and both of them clamped their hands over their own ears as Justin lifted Luisa out of the backseat and turned, holding her head tightly to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

  Even with protection, the explosion from the flashbang grenade Evan tossed through the open door was deafening. The blinding light jagged across Cate’s eyelids as the noise reverberated from one wall to the other and back again. She sank to her knees, vaguely aware of shouts, movement, but all she could see for the time it took her eyes to readjust was brilliant light; all she could hear were echoes.

  When hands touched her, her eyes popped open and she ripped off the ear cups. Justin pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, and kissed her hard and fast. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  He grimaced. “I can’t hear you.” It had been impossible for him to use hearing protection; even earplugs could have alerted Wallace and his men. His ears were going to be ringing for a while.

  She cupped her hands to his face and stared intently into his beautiful brown eyes. “It’s over, we’re alive and I love you.”

  The grin that curved his mouth came slowly but was full of every bit of smug confidence she’d ever seen in him. “I know.” Then he grew serious. “I love you, too.”

  “I know.” She might not have acknowledged it, might have tried to give him every out in the book, but deep inside she knew. Some things weren’t logical or predictable. Some things couldn’t be thought through. Some things she just had to accept. Like getting shot at. Fleeing a foreign country. Rescuing friends from bad guys. Saving the world—at least for a few people.

  And falling in love with the last guy in the world she would have picked for herself.

  The only one she would trust with her happily-ever-after.

  Snuggling deeper into his embrace, she gave him a sly look. “About that vacation you mentioned…”

  * * *

  It took a few days in Atlanta to tie things up, then Justin and Cate left for that vacation. He’d borrowed Alex’s plane again, and they’d flown back to Cozumel, catching a cab at the airport.

  “Where are we going?”

  He cocked his head to gaze at her. On the surface, they looked like opposites. He sprawled in the seat, too lazy to bother straightening his spine. She sat primly, spine erect, incredible legs crossed. His khaki shorts and Hawaiian shirt were rumpled from being stuffed in the first available space in the bag, and while he had shaved, he wasn’t sure he’d remembered to comb his hair. Her shorts and shirt were neatly pressed, her hair braided without a strand out of place.

  Delicate and sweeter than sugar most of the time—that had been Trent’s description of her. Justin wondered how his buddy could have been so wrong about the woman he’d married. She wasn’t delicate; she was strong, tough, resilient. And while she had her moments of sweetness, there was plenty of temper and stubbornness to offset it. She had a lot of buttons to push.

  And he truly enjoyed pushing them.

  “Someplace special,” he said at last.

  “Your house?”

  He shook his head.

  “La Casa?”

  “Nope.”

  “A pier at which we’ll find a luxurious yacht waiting to sail us away?”

  “Nope.” Actually, he did have that yacht waiting. He’d arranged a crew to handle the boat, but no chef or anyone else. He would take care of the cooking—the leasing agent was stocking the galley today—and cleaning up after themselves was a small price to pay for privacy.

  The cabdriver turned onto a narrow street, a horn blaring from the car he’d narrowly avoided, but Cate held Justin’s gaze. Slowly she smiled. “You know, I wouldn’t let just anyone make plans for me, then not tell me.”

  “I know. But you trust me.” He grinned his most obnoxious grin. “You said so, and I’ve got witnesses.”

  She twined her fingers with his. “The fact that I’m here proves I trust you. I don’t care where we go, as long as we go together.”

  “Aw, doc, that’s the sappiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He forced the words out around the sudden tightness in his chest. He didn’t have a clue how Trent had failed to appreciate what he’d had in Cate, but he was damned grateful for it. He was going to be grateful every day that she loved him, and he was going to make her grateful that he loved her.

  Except, of course, for the times she wanted to claw his face off.

  After a few blocks, she sighed. “I’m glad it’s over.”

  “Me, too.” Over being relative. Joseph Wallace and the men who’d accompanied him Friday night were in jail, facing a boatload of charges including child trafficking and kidnapping. All twenty-two girls had been removed from their homes and placed in temporary foster care; eighteen sets of adoptive parents were taken into custody; warrants had been issued for the remaining four pairs; and the feds were hacking away at the computer files. Justin was pretty sure Garcia would decrypt them first.

  Mexican authorities had been busy, too, arresting some of the Wallace Foundation staff members, everyone associated with the adoption agency and some local thugs on the Wallace payroll. The only major player who’d avoided jail so far was Lucas Wallace. While Joseph had gone to Atlanta to face Justin—and the cops—Lucas had boarded his own private jet for parts unknown. It appeared he’d taken twenty or thirty million dollars with him. Not a bad bankroll for a man on the run.

  But the kids were okay, at least on the surface, and love could heal any resulting problems. Thanks to intervention by Trent’s father, Luisa had been placed in the temporary cus
tody of the woman in Idaho whose attempts to adopt her had put this whole ordeal in motion. Trent and Susanna were okay, too, spending a few days with her family before heading to Georgia to visit his family. All of them, including Justin and Cate, would have to testify at the upcoming trials, but he wasn’t going to worry about that. With the delays Wallace’s attorney would request, he and Cate would be celebrating at least their fifth anniversary before they had to set foot in a courtroom.

  “I’m glad you and I weren’t arrested for kidnapping Luisa.”

  Justin grinned at her. “Rescuing, doc. Keep the terminology straight. We saved Luisa’s life.” Again his chest grew uncomfortably tight, and his voice sounded rough. “I know you save lives all the time, but this was a first for me.”

  Her fingers tightened on his even as her smile gentled. “That’s not true. You save lives with your time and your money. You help feed and shelter these girls. You give the kids at the community center opportunities they’ve never had. You give them hope. No one can live without hope.” Leaning across the seat, she whispered, “You give me hope,” then kissed him.

  As usual, his body turned hot in the space of a breath, all the laziness he’d been experiencing earlier evaporating in a puff of smoke. Dimly he was aware of the cab slowing, turning, creeping so that the movement was barely perceptible. A scrape of metal was underscored by a mutter from the driver, but he didn’t care. As long as they got some privacy in the next few minutes before he evaporated in a puff of smoke.

  Finally, the car stopped and the driver cleared his throat. Cate broke the kiss, pulling back, giving him an intimate smile, before she primly turned her attention to picking up her purse, undoing the seat belt, opening the door.

  “Oh.” Her voice was soft and pleasantly surprised as she recognized their location. She gave him another intimate, bold, promise-of-pleasure smile as she got out of the car.

  Justin paid the cabdriver, adding a generous tip for the scrapes, then hefted the duffel over his shoulder as the door to Room 11 opened.

  “Tio Pablo!” Cate hugged the old man as if he were family, then breezed into the room where she and Justin had spent their first night together. “It’s so good to be back.”

  Tio Pablo gave her a grin and Justin a wink. “It’s good to have you back.” He gestured toward a tray on the dresser. “Water, my best tequila, limes, a little Mayan avocado. What else do you need, besides time alone?”

  Cate set her purse down, then slid her arm around Justin’s waist before she answered. “Not a thing.”

  And he was in complete agreement. Drink, food and time with the most incredible woman he’d ever known. He didn’t need a damn thing more.

  * * * * *

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  Chapter 1

  The Wyoming woods atop the tall mountains that cradled the town of Cold Plains were just beginning to take on a fall cast of color. This worked perfectly with the camouflage long-sleeved T-shirt and pants that Micah Grayson wore as he made his way through the thick brush and trees.

  Although a gun holster rode his shoulder, he held his gun tight in his hand. Despite the fact that he had only been hiding out in the mountainous woods for two days and nights, he’d quickly learned that danger could come in the blink of an eye, a danger that might require the quick tic of his index finger on the trigger.

  Twilight had long ago fallen but a near-full moon overhead worked as an additional enemy when it came to using the shield of darkness for cover.

  As an ex-mercenary, Micah knew how to learn the terrain and use the weather to his advantage. He knew how to keep the reflection of the moonlight off his skin so as not to alert anyone to his presence. He could move through a bed of dry leaves and not make a sound. He could be wearing a black suit in a snowstorm and still figure out a way to become invisible.

  The first twenty-four hours that he’d been in the woods he’d learned natural landmarks, studied pitfalls and figured out places he thought would make good hidey-holes if needed. He’d also come face-to-face with a moose, heard the distant call of a wolf and seen several elk and deer.

  He now moved with the stealth of a big cat toward the rocky cliff he’d discovered the night before. As he crept low and light on his feet, he kept alert, his ears open for any alien sound that might not belong to the forest.

  Despite the relative coolness of the night, a trickle of sweat trekked down the center of his back. During his thirty-eight years of life, Micah had faced a thousand life-threatening situations, the latest of which had been a bullet to his head that had sent him into a coma for months.

  When he finally reached the rocky bluff he looked down at the lights dotting the little valley, the lights of the small town of Cold Plains, Wyoming. His brother Samuel’s town. Micah reached up and touched the scar, now barely discernible through his thick dark hair on the left side of his head, the place where Samuel’s henchman, Dax Roberts, had shot him while Micah had sat in his car. Dax had left him for dead.

  Fortunately for Micah he hadn’t died, but had come out of a three-month coma with the fierce, driving need for revenge against the fraternal twin he’d always somehow known was a dangerous, narcissistic sociopath.

  Unfortunately, Samuel was also charming and slick and powerful, making him a natural leader that people wanted to follow.

  Five months ago Micah had been sitting in a small-town Kansas coffee shop where he’d landed after his last mission for a little downtime when he’d seen a face almost identical to his own flash across the television mounted to the wall.

  Stunned, he’d watched a news story unfold that told him his brother Samuel was being questioned by the FBI and local police in connection with the murders of five women found all across Wyoming. All the women had one thing in common: Cold Plains, the town where his wealthy, motivational-speaker brother wielded unbelievable influence and power.

  Micah had immediately contacted the FBI and been put in touch with an agent named Hawk Bledsoe. The two had made arrangements to meet the next day but, before Micah could make that meeting, he’d caught the bullet to his head.

  He’d been in the coma for ninety-three long days and it had taken him another two months to feel up to the task he knew he had to do—take out Samuel before he could destroy any more people and lives.

  Which was why he’d spent these last two days and nights in the woods adjacent to Cold Plains.

  Minutes before he’d made his way to the bluff, he’d met with his FBI contact, Hawk. Hawk had grown up in Cold Plains and after years of being away from his hometown had returned to discover that the rough-around-the-edges place where he’d grown up as son of the town drunk had transformed into something eerily perfect. A town run by a group of people who others referred to under their breaths as the Devotees and their leader, the movie-star handsome, but frightening and dangerous Samuel Grayson.

  For the past two nights Micah and Hawk had met at dusk in the woods so Hawk could keep Micah apprised of what was going on in town and how the FBI investigation into Samuel’s misdeeds was progressing.

  As he thought about everything Hawk had shared with him over the last two days, a dull throb began at the scar in the side of his head. He drew in several deep, long breaths, attempting to will away one of the killer migraines that
the bullet had left behind.

  He turned and started off the bluff, deciding to make his way down the mountain, closer to town. The only time he dared to do a little reconnaissance of the layout of the town was at night. He knew that if anyone caught sight of him it would be reported back to Samuel, and the last thing Micah wanted Samuel to know was that he was not only still alive but he was also here and working with the FBI to bring him down.

  As always, he moved silently, knowing that the woods held many secrets. Just the night before, he’d stumbled upon two women amid the brush and trees. Darcy Craven had fainted at the sight of him, assuming he was his brother, but the woman with her, June Farrow, had recognized that he wasn’t Samuel and had taken him to the safe house located in an area called Hidden Valley.

  The safe house and surrounding land, only accessible by hiking or helicopter, had become an important haven for those trying to escape Samuel and his minions. The woods weren’t just filled with those trying to escape the small town, but also dangerous hunters tracking them down.

  Samuel had to be stopped. The words had reverberated in his head the moment he’d awakened from his coma and that thought was the driving force that got him up each morning, his final thought before falling asleep at night.

  He froze as he thought he heard a sound someplace to his left. It sounded like a baby’s cry; there for just a moment and then gone as if stolen from the gentle night breeze. He remained still, his index finger ready to fire the gun gripped tight in his hand if necessary.

  Micah wasn’t given to flights of fantasy. He knew he’d heard something. It was possible that it had been some sort of animal, but there was no way he intended to leave this area until he found the source of the sound.

  There were hunters in the woods, but Micah was one, too, and if he managed to get to one of the men who worked for Samuel, he’d turn them over to the FBI to help them build a case against the man, hopefully a case that would avenge the deaths of the five women Micah knew in his heart his brother was responsible for killing.