Safe at Hawk's Landing
Page 1
She’s sworn to protect her students—he’s sworn to protect her
Charlotte Reacher found her calling teaching art therapy to teens. But when her attempt to stop a kidnapping leaves her wounded and unable to see anything beyond trauma and fear, she’s hesitant to trust the stranger who promises to keep her safe.
FBI agent Lucas Hawk knows Charlotte’s the only witness to the human-trafficking abduction that shook his Texas hometown. Determined to find the victims, he must convince her to work with him—even while resisting his growing desire for her. Every hour is critical for the kidnapped girls. And every breath Charlotte takes could be her last.
Badge of Justice
Lucas stiffened. Something was wrong.
Charlotte gasped for a breath, her fingernails digging into his palm. “Help…”
He cradled her hand between both of his, soothing her. “You’re safe now, Charlotte. You’re in the hospital and you’re safe.” But those four teenagers weren’t.
She pushed at the sheets and grabbed the bed rail with her free hand. “I…can’t see,” she whispered between choked breaths. “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”
Lucas’s pulse clamored. “You mean you can’t see the shooter? You were in the studio, weren’t you? Or did you and the girls hide?”
“No…I was there,” she cried, her chest heaving. “They stormed in and took them. I tried to save them, but the big one shot me and hit me in the head.”
He leaned over the bed and stroked her arm. “Charlotte, it’s okay, I know it was terrifying and you wanted to save your students. Just tell me what you saw and we can still save them.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t see. Anything.”
SAFE AT HAWK’S
LANDING
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Rita Herron
USA TODAY bestselling author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. Rita lives in Georgia with her family. She loves to hear from readers, so please visit her website, ritaherron.com.
Books by Rita Herron
Harlequin Intrigue
Badge of Justice
Redemption at Hawk’s Landing
Safe at Hawk’s Landing
The Heroes of Horseshoe Creek
Lock, Stock and McCullen
McCullen’s Secret Son
Roping Ray McCullen
Warrior Son
The Missing McCullen
The Last McCullen
Bucking Bronc Lodge
Certified Cowboy
Cowboy in the Extreme
Cowboy to the Max
Cowboy Cop
Native Cowboy
Ultimate Cowboy
Cold Case at Camden Crossing
Cold Case at Carlton’s Canyon
Cold Case at Cobra Creek
Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
Special Agent Lucas Hawk—He will do anything to stop the human-trafficking ring targeting Texas—and to protect Charlotte Reacher, the only surviving witness to the men’s crimes.
Charlotte Reacher—Blinded by the men who kidnapped four students in her therapeutic art class, she must accept Lucas’s help and his protection in order to save the girls. But can she resist the sizzling attraction she feels for Lucas?
Evie Cranton—She shot one of her foster fathers when he tried to molest her. Could he have sold her out to the trafficking ring to get revenge?
Herman Stanley—This banker has made a fortune off swindling people out of their property—has he also been selling and buying girls into sex slavery?
Stefan Ludwig—Is he the head of the trafficking ring?
Earl Ramus—Lucas killed him to protect Charlotte. But dead men can’t talk—can they?
Geoffrey Williams—Could this city councilman be involved in the human-trafficking ring?
Louise Summerton—Her parents thought she ran away with a boy she met online. Was the meeting a setup to lure her into the hands of the trafficking ring?
To my beautiful daughter Elizabeth—who works tirelessly to help victims of domestic violence and prevent human trafficking.
So proud of you!
Love you always, Mom
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Excerpt from Into the Night by Cynthia Eden
Chapter One
Charlotte Reacher knew what it was like to be alone. Without a home or family.
Unwanted. Unloved.
That loneliness had inspired her to start her art program for teenage girls in Tumbleweed, Texas. This particular group of four were all foster kids and needed reassurance and love.
She strolled through the studio smiling at the girls perched behind canvases that had once been blank slates, but now were being transformed. When they’d first organized the group six weeks ago, most of them had painted drab, colorless pictures, all grays and blacks, depicting the despair in their lives.
Not every girl had a bikini body, liked makeup and glamour magazines or cheerleading.
And not every girl had parents with the money to fix her flaws.
The confident ones knew how to socialize, make friends and express themselves, while others wilted on the inside, withdrew and suffered from low self-esteem. Cruel classmates complicated the situation with teasing and bullying, and caused the girls to die a little with every mean word said.
It had been the same for her, growing up in the system. Her port-wine birthmark had drawn cruel remarks and stares, killing her own confidence.
She brushed her fingers over her cheek. Thanks to a gifted and generous plastic surgeon, who’d offered her services to needy kids when Charlotte was eleven, the skin was smooth now, the birthmark gone.
Still, the internal scars remained. These girls had scars, too. Both physical and emotional.
But here—in her studio, Expressions—everyone was free to paint or draw whatever they wanted with no judgment.
She just hoped the small town of Tumbleweed embraced the teens. So far, the locals had been nice to her. She’d made friends with Honey Granger Hawk, the developer who’d built the small house she lived in. Honey appreciated her cause and had thrown in the studio renovation for next to nothing.
Now Charlotte had a home, a friend and a business. And hopefully a family in this town and her students...
She adjusted the volume of the music playing in the background. Early on, she’d discovered that music relaxed her and the students. Now she allowed the girls to select the CDs they wanted to listen to during their sessions. Today Evie had chosen an upbeat country song.
“Ms. Charlotte, what do you think?” Fifteen-year-old Mae Lynn looked up at her with a mixture of apprehension and hope. She was shy and the most fragile of all of them, but she’d begun to warm up.
“I like the way you’ve used the colors,” Charlotte said. It was obvious the sea of blues and grays represented her changing mood swings. Who could blame her, though? The poor kid had been in and out of more than ten homes in five years.
Two girls who were horse lovers, sixteen-year-old Agnes and her fourteen-year-old sister, Adrian, chatted softly about their portrayals of a big ranch where they hoped to live one day, while thirteen-year-old Evie splashed pinks and blues and purples in a whimsical pattern. Despite the fact that she’d ended up in a group home, Evie had a perpetually positive attitude.
Hopefully, her attitude would rub off on the others.
Suddenly, the front door to the studio opened, and Charlotte glanced up, hoping to see Sally, another foster child she’d invited to the class, but instead four tall masked men dressed in black stormed in, guns raised and aimed at the girls.
Charlotte froze, mentally assessing the situation. She had to protect her students no matter what. Pulse hammering, she stepped forward, placing herself between the men and girls.
The biggest man turned the gun on her. “Don’t move.”
She stared at the snake tattoo, then noticed a bolt of lightning tattooed on his neck.
Behind her, the girls screamed. Charlotte raised her hands in a submissive gesture. “Please don’t hurt them,” she said in a choked voice. “I don’t keep much money here, but you can take it all.”
“We don’t want your money,” the shortest guy shouted. “Get on the ground.”
A sob echoed behind her, then another scream.
“I said get down!” the one who seemed to be in charge barked.
Charlotte dropped to the floor, her gaze scanning the room for something to use as a weapon, but her art supplies and brushes wouldn’t do any good against these guns. Semiautomatics. They weren’t playing around.
Her phone was inside her purse in her office, too. She didn’t have a weapon or an alarm.
Boots clicked on the wood floor as the heaviest man strode to her. With one quick grunt, he slammed the butt of the gun against her head. Stars swam in front of her eyes as the world spun. More screams rent the air, shrill and piercing.
Panic shot through Charlotte. She had to do something. If the men didn’t want money, what did they want?
“Leave us alone!” Adrian cried.
“Don’t shoot!” Agnes said shakily.
A bullet pinged off the ceiling, silencing them all.
Evie ducked behind an easel while the sisters hunched together beneath a table. Mae Lynn pushed her easel over, paint splattering, and ran for the door, but one of the men grabbed her as if she weighed nothing.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Mae Lynn cried.
Charlotte pushed to her hands and knees, desperate. “Let her go. Take me if you want, but leave these kids alone.”
A bark of sarcastic laughter, sickening in its sound, filled the air as the brute slammed the gun against her head again, then jerked her arm and flung her against the wall. Pain ricocheted through her head and shoulder and, for a second, she thought she might pass out.
Then everything happened at once.
The men charged the girls. Agnes and Adrian kicked and fought. Mae Lynn was sobbing, trying to wrestle free, while Evie scrambled toward the back room to escape, throwing chairs and paintbrushes, whatever she could grasp hold of.
The man chasing Evie tossed the table aside, then snatched her up, laughing as she flailed and fought.
One of them muttered something, but she couldn’t understand the words.
Then the men dragged the girls toward the door to the outside. Charlotte couldn’t let them get away.
Ignoring the pain in her skull, she grabbed the wall and pulled herself up, then staggered forward.
A second later, a gunshot erupted, then pain seared her shoulder where the bullet had struck. Another bullet zinged by her head and skimmed her temple, and her legs gave way.
She collapsed on the floor, blood gushing from her shoulder. “Let them go!” She crawled after them, but another bullet pinged the floor in front of her, then the intruders dragged the girls through the door.
The biggest brute stood guard, his gun releasing more ammunition across the room to keep her at bay. Bullets pierced the walls and ripped at the canvases, sending paint tubes and containers spilling to the floor.
Her blood mingled with the paint, and the two blended together, the vibrant colors fading to a dull brown. The huge man strode to her and slammed the gun against her head one more time.
A sharp pain splintered her skull, then the world turned black as he disappeared out the door.
* * *
SPECIAL AGENT LUCAS HAWK studied the photographs of the missing girls from Waco and Abilene on the white board in the task-force meeting room.
Two kidnappings, two different cities in Texas. Both by a group of masked men who’d abducted teenagers. Female teenagers.
The men’s motive hadn’t been confirmed, but Lucas suspected what they were doing, and it made him sick to his stomach.
He’d lost his own sister when she was just a kid and he’d been fifteen, and understood the agony these families must be suffering.
“There are eleven victims in Texas so far,” Special Agent Tradd Hoover stated.
So far? Implying he believed there would be more.
“At this point, none of the victims have been found. We have no real lead as to where the men are holding the girls, either.” Agent Hoover paused, his expression grim. “Or for how long.”
The sheriff from Waco raised his hand. “You don’t think they’re killing them?”
Agent Hoover shook his head. “If they were, we would have found bodies. We believe this is a highly organized human-trafficking ring. They’re bold, aggressive, and the fact that they’re abducting groups of teens implies they have orders to fill.”
“Any witnesses?” Lucas asked.
“None that have survived,” Agent Hoover said. “The kidnappers come armed and dangerous, and have taken out anyone in their path.”
The door opened, and Deputy Director Henry Fredericks stepped into the room, rubbing a hand over his bald head. “Just got a call. Another group kidnapping. Four victims.” He flicked his pointer finger toward Lucas. “Your hometown, Hawk. Your brother called it in. He wants us there. Yesterday.”
A coldness swept over Lucas. The trafficking ring had struck Tumbleweed.
For God’s sake, they’d just finally closed the book on his sister’s disappearance and death.
With four teenagers from Tumbleweed missing, the town would be in an uproar.
“You hear me, Special Agent Hawk?” the deputy director said.
Lucas jerked himself to attention and stood. “Yes, sir, I’m on my way.”
The deputy director cleared his throat. “There’s something else. This time there’s a witness. She’s been shot and needs surgery. But if she makes it, we may have caught a break and she can tell us more about these sons of bitches.”
Lucas nodded. If she knew anything, he’d find out. Then hopefully they could stop this crew before they got too far away with the teens.
The wind whistled as he stepped outside. He jogged to his car and sped from the parking lot. The deputy director had said
if the witness survived. He couldn’t waste time.
He pressed Harrison’s number as he drove, tension knotting his shoulders. His brother answered on the third ring.
“I’m on my way, Harrison. The deputy director said you have a witness.”
“Hopefully,” Harrison said. “She’s unconscious now. The medics are transporting her to the hospital.”
“How seriously is she hurt?”
“Took a bullet to the shoulder, lost a lot of blood. Looks like one of the jerks beat her in the head with the butt of a semi. Could be serious.” Harrison’s voice sounded gruff. “Her name’s Charlotte Reacher, Lucas. She’s a friend of Honey’s.”
Damn. “Where did it happen?”
“In town. Charlotte’s art studio, Expressions. She does art therapy with troubled kids and adolescents.”
The injustice of the situation made his blood boil. She sounded like a good woman. She sure as hell hadn’t deserved this.
“All four of the teens were foster kids.”
Lucas’s gut clenched. Most crews slipped in quietly and worked under the radar. These bastards were practically shoving their crimes in the faces of the residents and the law.
They probably thought a small-town sheriff couldn’t handle the challenge.
Big mistake. They didn’t know his brother.
“We have to find them, Lucas,” Harrison said. “This town is having a hard time with the recent arrest of one of our own. A violent attack like this is gonna hit hard.”
His brother was right. Lucas tightened his hands around the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator.
Every second the girls were missing gave the kidnappers more time to get away.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Lucas parked in front of Expressions. Crime-scene tape had already been erected in front of the building and along the sidewalk outside, looking ominous against the soothing pale blue of the studio’s exterior.
Harrison’s deputy, Mitchell Bronson, was working to keep the growing crowd from crossing the line, but hushed whispers and worried, shocked looks floated through the group.
“I’m going to canvass the neighboring businesses and locals,” Deputy Bronson said. “Sheriff said for you to go on in.”