Safe at Hawk's Landing

by Rita Herron

  Fear pushed her forward, and she felt along the wall for the attic door. Hands shaking, she fumbled with the lock.

  Another noise. This time out back. Someone was trying to get in.

  She bit back a scream, then threw open the door and felt for the wall and steps. Adrenaline kicked in, and she closed the door behind her and locked it from the inside, then crawled up the stairs to hide.

  * * *

  LUCAS SEARCHED THE banker’s office while Harrison strode to the man’s bedroom. He combed through desk drawers, looking at files Stanley had brought home. Dozens of business files, portfolios, stock and investment information and personal records.

  He flipped through one file and noted several large cash deposits. Stock investments and dividends didn’t pay out in cash.

  Where had the money come from?

  The man’s laptop was missing. He probably had it with him. But he had a desktop. Password-protected.

  Dammit. He texted Keenan to get a tech analyst to come out, open it and search the man’s browser history and files. If he had pictures of girls/conquests on the computer, they could nail him.

  Hoping he had hard copies, something that would confirm they were on the right track, he dug into the file cabinet and combed through dozens of folders.

  Dammit, no incriminating pictures.

  That didn’t mean he didn’t have some. The man hadn’t made his fortune because he was stupid. He obviously knew how to hide what he was doing.

  Determined not to leave without searching every corner, he opened the closet and scrounged through file boxes. He found information on the property Honey had bought back after Stanley had foreclosed on it. Just as he’d suspected, Stanley hadn’t given the families any leniency. He’d forced them into taking out second mortgages and upped the interest rates so high that the owners couldn’t possibly make their payments.

  Harrison strode down the steps, boots clicking. “Did you find anything?”

  “Just a boatload of financial material. You?”

  “So far nothing that links him to the trafficking ring.”

  “I called the Bureau to send someone out to get into his computer. We’ll have to find him and confiscate his laptop as well.” He checked his watch, suddenly uneasy. “Let me call Bronson and check on Charlotte.”

  He punched Bronson’s number, and let it ring but it rolled to voice mail. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Something was wrong.

  He called Charlotte’s number, but she didn’t answer.

  Panic stabbed at him, and he tried Bronson again.

  “Something wrong?” Harrison asked.

  “No one’s answering. I have to go.”

  “I’ll wait here on the tech team.”

  Lucas nodded and hurried toward the door. The maid was hovering over the glass figurines in the curio in the foyer, dusting them, her eyes flickering with nerves.

  He didn’t bother to stop and talk to her. He jogged to his car, jumped in and sped toward Charlotte’s.

  Fear threatened to consume him as he barreled down the drive and onto the road leading back to town. He needed a damn siren, but the ranch SUV didn’t have one.

  He blew his horn and flashed his lights at traffic, waving the drivers to move aside as he careened around them and flew through town. By the time he reached Charlotte’s home, terror choked him.

  He slowed as he approached her house, scanning the property. No cars in sight. Maybe someone had parked in the woods down the road.

  He swerved into the driveway, his headlights illuminating the front bushes and porch. A shadow caught his eye. Movement.

  To the right.

  Someone was out there. Bronson?

  No, this guy was wearing all black and he was skulking along the side of the house.

  Rage and fear seized him. He pulled his weapon, threw the SUV into Park and jumped out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Where the hell was Bronson?

  Lucas glanced in the deputy’s car, but Bronson wasn’t inside. He scanned left and right, then spotted him lying face down near the porch, his body half-hidden by the bushes.

  He stooped down and eased toward him, then felt for a pulse.

  Low but thready.

  He quickly checked for injuries—a nasty gash on the back of his head. He turned over his body. No bullet wounds.

  The bushes rustled to the right, and he spotted the shadow again. Men were going through the back door.

  He punched 911, then gave them the address and shoved his phone in his pocket. Slowly he inched around the side of the house, careful not to make noise. If he could catch these guys alive, he could force them to tell him where the girls were.

  Inside the house, a light glowed in the kitchen, but no other lights were on. Did Charlotte know there were men outside? Was she in the kitchen?

  He inched closer to the kitchen window, but Rebecca had closed the shutters and it was difficult to see inside. Charlotte could already be in bed.

  He mentally recalled the layout of the house. The master bedroom was on the opposite side of the house from the kitchen.

  A noise made him quicken his pace. One of the men was inside.

  Dammit.

  He closed the distance to the back deck. The door to the inside was ajar. The dead bolt hadn’t stopped the bastard or even slowed him down.

  He eased toward the steps, but leaves rustled behind him and the barrel of a gun dug into his back. “You’re not going to stop us,” a man growled.

  Lucas froze. Dead, he couldn’t save Charlotte. But he sure as hell didn’t intend to let this bastard stop him.

  “Leave her alone. She can’t identify you.”

  “Orders. We never leave witnesses behind.”

  Lucas didn’t hesitate. He spun around, jerked the gun into the air and slammed his fist into the man’s stomach. Rock-hard. Muscular.

  He might be ex-military.

  The gun went off, the bullet hitting the porch rail. The man fought back, threw his leg up and kicked Lucas in the knees. Pain knifed through him, and he dropped to the porch floor, struggling for air.

  Dammit, he didn’t have time to waste. His assailant lowered the gun again and aimed it at Lucas. He quickly rolled to the side to dodge the bullet then raised his own weapon and fired.

  The bullet caught the man in the chest. His eyes widened as he realized he’d been hit, then he charged toward Lucas with a rage-filled roar.

  Lucas fired again, then again. A bullet pierced the man dead center in his heart. Blood gushed and the man collapsed on the porch then tumbled down the steps and landed in the bushes.

  Lucas kept his eyes trained on the bastard as he grabbed the man’s weapon and tucked it in his jeans.

  There was still one man inside. He couldn’t let him hurt Charlotte.

  Gritting his teeth at the throbbing in his left knee, he grabbed the railing and dragged himself up then staggered through the door. Footsteps echoed from the back room. Charlotte’s bedroom.

  A wave of cold fear washed over Lucas.

  He swallowed back a growl and crept down the hall toward the intruder.

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE BURROWED BENEATH the quilts in the trunk she’d stored in the attic, fear nearly paralyzing her. The sound of gunshots reverberated in her ears.

  Had the intruder shot the deputy?

  Footsteps pounded below. Then someone was trying to open the attic door.

  She held her breath and clenched the quilt edge, digging her fingers into the soft material. More footsteps. A hard slamming sound—someone kicking in the door?

  She pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle a cry. Where was the deputy? Was he alive?

  Another noise. In the kitchen, not the attic stairs. Were there two of them?

  Her lungs squeezed
for air. God help her.

  She didn’t want to die.

  Footsteps, the stairs squeaked. Then a voice.

  “Stop right there.”

  Her pulse jumped. Lucas. He was here to save her.

  A gunshot sounded. She jumped, choking on a sob, then forced herself to lie still. A bang, then a grunt. Then a body hit the floor.

  Lucas shouted something, then she heard banging and grunting as if the men were scuffling. Tumbling down the stairs.

  She closed her eyes and prayed Lucas won the fight.

  * * *

  LUCAS SLAMMED HIS fist into the man’s jaw, then his stomach. This brute was bigger than the other one. Muscular, too, with a thick neck like a linebacker. Although his face was covered with a black mask.

  He wanted to see his face.

  But the brute knocked Lucas backward. Lucas lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs. His gun hit the floor a few feet away. The man pulled his weapon, but Lucas lurched to his feet and ducked sideways. He reached for this gun, but the man came after him. Lucas caught him around the knees and knocked him back onto the steps. The man grunted and raised his gun, but Lucas slammed his wrist and sent the gun flying onto the steps.

  They traded blows, rolling across the floor and fighting to retrieve Lucas’s gun. The intruder kicked Lucas in the stomach with his boot, but Lucas rolled toward his weapon and snatched it. He spun around and aimed, but the man had disappeared.

  Footsteps pounded, then the back door slammed. Lucas lurched to his feet and gave chase. He ran through the hall to the kitchen, then outside, but the sound of a motorcycle engine came from the woods behind the house.

  He raced down the porch steps, aimed his gun and fired at the motorcycle as it ripped across the backyard toward the street. Panting, he chased it, firing again and again.

  But the man was too fast, and the motorcycle sped onto the road and disappeared.

  He wanted to go after it. But Charlotte was inside somewhere. At least he didn’t think the men had gotten to her.

  Heart hammering, he glanced over at the dead man then raced inside. “Charlotte, it’s me, Lucas. He’s gone!”

  He combed through the downstairs, searched her bedroom and closet and her studio, then made his way back to the attic.

  Fear crowded his chest as he entered the stairwell again. “Charlotte, it’s Lucas. Are you in the attic?”

  He eased up the steps, praying she was safe, his heart in his throat. She had to be okay.

  Only there had been four men who’d stormed into her studio. And no telling how many more were involved in the trafficking ring.

  What if another one had gotten to her before he’d arrived?

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE TREMBLED AS she cowered inside the trunk, her instincts warning her not to move or make a sound. The world was a blur, the darkness a tunnel that sucked her into its endless vortex.

  She shoved her fist against her mouth again, choking back a sob. A squeak of the stairs. The wind outside banged against the roof. The upstairs door into the attic rattled.

  “Charlotte, I’m here, it’s Lucas! The intruders are gone. Are you in there?”

  Relief whooshed through her, and she heaved a ragged breath. Perspiration trickled down the side of her cheek, as tears she didn’t know she’d shed blended with the moisture.

  “Charlotte, please tell me you’re all right.”

  Lucas. His voice, deep and comforting. Worried.

  She had to pull herself together.

  “I’m here,” she called, although her voice was muffled in the fabric of the quilts. Realizing he couldn’t hear her, she pawed her way through the covers, pushed open the lid of the trunk and gasped for air as she climbed out of it.

  She was dizzy. Disoriented. Which way was the door?

  “Charlotte?”

  “I’m in here,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. “I locked the door. Give me a minute to find it.”

  “I can pick the lock or break the door if you want.”

  She sniffed and wiped her sweating palms on the legs of her pajamas. “No, I’m coming. Just talk to me so I can find the door.”

  She forced herself to stand still and listen, not to run blindly through the space. An antique dresser she’d planned to refinish stood on the wall near the dormer window, a few boxes of art supplies stacked beside it. The trunk...she’d left it on the opposite side of the dormer window facing the door.

  Feeling along the edge of the trunk for the lock, she swung her hands out to feel her way. She’d dropped her cane somewhere on the stairs.

  “Charlotte, I’m right here,” Lucas said, his voice gruff. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m okay,” she said, although that was a lie. She’d been terrified she was going to die and never see him or her students again.

  “You were smart to hide,” he said in a low voice.

  “What about the deputy?” she asked as she found the wall and inched along beside it toward his voice.

  “I called an ambulance. He was unconscious but breathing, a knock on the head but no gunshot.”

  His voice was so reassuring that her breathing began to steady, and she picked up her pace.

  “The ambulance should be here soon, Charlotte. Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she said, grateful her voice didn’t completely falter. She stumbled over an object on the floor and reached for something to steady herself.

  “Charlotte?”

  “I’m fine.” She straightened her spine and bumped the wall, then realized she was at the door. Her breath whooshed out. She felt for the lock and turned it, then pulled at the knob.

  “I’ve got it,” Lucas said. “Step back.”

  Still trembling from the ordeal, she inched to the side. A second later, the door opened and Lucas’s masculine scent filled the air. Her head swam with relief, and she reached out to touch him.

  He instantly drew her into his arms, her breathing erratic. She fell against his chest and drank in his warmth and strength as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  * * *

  LUCAS RAKED HIS hands over Charlotte’s back, desperate to know that she was unharmed. “Did they hurt you?” he said against her hair.

  She shook her head, one hand flat on his chest as if she needed to hold on to him to stand up. She was trembling, her breathing erratic, her fear bleeding into his.

  “I heard a scuffle outside and called the deputy, but he didn’t answer so I decided to hide.”

  “I’m glad you did,” he murmured, hugging her closer, so close he felt her breasts rising and falling against his chest. Unable to help himself, he stroked her back, then lifted one hand and threaded his fingers through her hair. Needing to see that she was unharmed, he tilted her head back and studied her face.

  She was terrified, but holding on to her courage. Her eyes were blank as she struggled to see him. His heart ached for her. For him.

  He wanted to look into her eyes and see if she felt the same chemistry he felt. He was drawn to her like he’d never been drawn to another woman.

  His breath whispered out. She murmured his name. “I want to see you,” she said so softly he almost didn’t understand her.

  Then he realized what she was asking.

  He cradled her hands in his then lifted them to touch his face. A smile curved her mouth, and she ran her fingers up the side of his face to touch his hair. He held his breath while she planted her fingers in it, stroking the top, then down the sides.

  “I keep it short for the job,” he said, feeling awkward as hell.

  She nodded, then traced her fingers over his forehead, over his eyes and nose. She inhaled sharply, his own breath quickening as she traced her fingers over his cheek. His breath caught as she touched his lips with one finger.

  She wet her lower
lip with her tongue, stirring every male primal instinct within him, and he couldn’t resist.

  He cupped her face in his hands, lowered his mouth and closed his lips over hers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Charlotte clung to Lucas, savoring the feel of his lips against hers. It had been a long time since she’d been held by a man or kissed like this.

  Maybe she never had.

  Because Lucas’s kiss felt hungry, needy, as if he wanted her. But she felt safe at the same time.

  He was gentle, as if he thought she was a delicate flower whose petals would fall off if he became too aggressive.

  That gentleness made her want more.

  She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, silently telling him with her mouth and her body that she wanted him.

  He stroked her hair with one hand, glided his other hand to her waist and coaxed her into the vee of his thighs. With a whisper of her name, he teased her lips apart, then plunged his tongue into her mouth, stirring erotic sensations to flutter in her stomach.

  Passion ignited inside her, making her feel tingly inside, and she moaned softly. She’d simply wanted to feel his face, know the planes and angles of his bone structure, the contours of his jaw, and...just to be close to him.

  No, she needed this. Wanted this and more.

  She could have died at the hands of those awful men. So could he have. But he’d rushed into danger to protect her.

  Another deep kiss left her breathless, then he trailed kisses along her neck and ear. She wanted more. Wanted to feel his bare chest and his body heavy on top of her. Wanted to feel her legs sliding against his, his thick sex stroking her and giving her pleasure.

  A siren’s wail burst into the night, jarring her from the euphoria of his arms. The deputy was outside, hurt. Her students were still missing, terrified, fighting for their lives.

  She and Lucas didn’t have time to indulge in sating their selfish desires.

  She lowered her hands just as he eased away from her.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte, that shouldn’t have happened.”

  Instantly, she tensed and stepped backward. She wished she could see his face, read his expression, but that was impossible. She had to rely on the tone of his voice and it was laced with guilt.