by Barb Han
“She couldn’t have known this would happen.” The hope that this could be a mistake drained out of Dylan like water out of a tub. The harsh reality set in that his baby girl was missing.
“We’re going to find her,” Brody reassured him. “No matter what it takes.”
The air thinned as if it had been sucked out of the room. The notion that Dylan might not ever see his Bel again pressed down on his chest with the force of a drill.
“We’ll find her. And we’ll bring her home,” Brody said.
“I’m coming.”
“It’s not safe for you on the highway. Whoever’s after Samantha will be waiting.”
“Yeah? They’re about to get a surprise.” Dylan searched for his duffel. He’d blow up the whole freakin’ town of Austin if it meant getting to Mason Ridge faster.
Samantha sank to the floor. “He took her. He said if anyone helped me they’d regret it.”
All thoughts of his daughter wandering off on her own exploded in an audible crack.
This was a coordinated attack, bringing up the question once again of who would have resources to pull something like this off.
Dylan dropped the phone, turned to face Samantha and then stalked toward her. “What else do you know?”
She gasped. Tears streaming down her cheeks did nothing to soften the steel fury coursing through him, making his veins burn.
“I already told you everything.”
“You better start talking or I’ll walk you outside and dump you on the street myself. We’ll see how long it takes for those men to find you.” He wouldn’t do it, but she didn’t know that and he needed to know exactly what she knew. Rather than allow his violent side to take over, he paced.
She looked up at him. The fear in her eyes didn’t sit well with him, but he didn’t have it in him right now to go easy on her, not while his baby was out there somewhere, God knew where, with people who wanted to use her to get to Samantha.
Her eyes were glossy and wide, fearful. They had an almost animallike quality to them. “He must know you’re involved. That’s why I didn’t want you here in the first place. You should’ve just let me deal with this on my own.”
“I couldn’t leave you alone, Samantha.” She had tried to push him away and get him out of there from the second he’d shown up.
“Thomas Kramer or whoever is behind this didn’t hurt the boys. We have to hold on to the hope that he won’t change that now,” she reasoned.
“We have a small army after us.” Dylan didn’t voice his fear that he’d led them straight to her. Someone must’ve been watching the movements of the group of her friends to see if anyone came to find her. But why? Who else was involved? “My daughter is missing.”
The US Army–trained sniper inside him—the man who could set aside personal feelings and regard for life in order to fire at a target—wanted to force more information out of her. But the man, the father he’d become knew that would just shock her deeper into her shell. He sank down in front of her. Desperation was as unforgiving as the bare wood floor against his knees. “I’ve got nothing here. I need your help.”
* * *
LOOKING INTO DYLAN’S intelligent and intense green eyes stripped away Samantha’s defenses. She saw that same look that had been in her eyes when she’d learned about her mother’s accident. That had been Samantha’s fault, too. Guilt pressed down on her shoulders until her arms grew numb. Her mother had been making a school run during a snowstorm. Samantha had forgotten her math folder. Some of the roads had been icy. Trotter Road had been the fastest route to school but it had that long bridge.
Her mother’s car had broken through the ice. A chill raced down Samantha’s spine at the memory.
And now a little girl’s life was on the line...
Telling anyone about her father might put him in more danger. And yet not doing everything she could to help made her feel as if she was acting right along with the bad guys—an accomplice to the kidnapping. Her father had done something. She’d known instantly when she’d heard his voice on the phone last week. He was far from a perfect man, but he was a good person deep down. And he wouldn’t want an innocent little girl trapped in the middle of this horrific mess.
Forgive me, Daddy.
“I’ll tell you everything I know,” she said, with the caveat that it wasn’t much.
She took a deep breath to fortify herself and then told him every detail she could remember about the attack, the stalker and her father’s words that he’d fix this one more time.
“When was the last time you spoke to your father?” Dylan asked.
“Less than a week ago. Right before I left town. He said he needed time to sort this out and that I should be careful. I wanted to see him but he refused. Said it was too dangerous to say where he was. At first I thought maybe he would go to one of my brothers’ places. I called around the next day but none of them knew where he might be. They asked if they should be worried and I told them no. They have enough on their plates already and I really didn’t know what else to tell them. Plus, I just thought, what could my dad have done? He’s a nice guy. Pays his taxes ahead of schedule. Tends to the shop. He gave up drinking years ago, so it couldn’t be related to that.”
“How’s the business doing? Any chance he owes someone he shouldn’t?”
“It seems to be doing well.”
“Desperate people can be very good at hiding things.”
She knew firsthand the truth in those words. When her father was drinking, he’d come up with all kinds of sneaky ways to cover his tracks. “I got nothing. I mean, the business is good. I’d have to take a closer look at the books to be certain. He didn’t do well when Mom died but we became his life after he stopped drinking.” Samantha’s voice still hitched when she talked about her mother, the pain still raw after all these years.
“What are we missing?” Dylan sat back on his heels and rubbed his temples. “We need to figure out a way to get back to Mason Ridge.”
“Do that and we might be playing right into this guy’s hands.”
“I can’t sit here and do nothing.” The intensity to his voice didn’t ease.
“Yeah, well, go outside and we might make it worse.”
“That’s impossible,” he ground out. “My little girl is missing and I was supposed to be the one volunteering on the field trip. Me. I should’ve been there instead of running off for a case. This is my fault and she’s probably scared to death. She already lost her mother and now she’s alone again.”
“You’re a good father,” she said, trying to soothe him.
“Really? How so? Do most fathers allow their children to be kidnapped?” he snapped.
“You didn’t know this would happen. And you wouldn’t be here if you had. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. This is my fault, not yours.” A heavy weight pressed on her chest. It was because of Samantha that her mother was gone. And now a little girl was in danger. How could that not feel like her fault, too?
Why hadn’t Dylan listened to her before?
He was right, though. This couldn’t possibly be the work of one man.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “We can’t change what has already happened. All we can do is find my father and find out who is really behind this. Together.”
“Like hell you’re coming with me. You’re in enough jeopardy as it is.”
“What do you plan to do alone?” Dylan was already gathering his things and searching for what she figured had to be keys.
“Find my daughter and bring her home safely.”
“How do you figure you’ll accomplish that?”
“By talking to your father.” He located his cell and then thrust it toward her. “Get him on the phone.”
“He won’t pick up.”
“Th
en, leave a message. Tell him to call you back at this number.”
“And what if whoever is responsible for all this is listening?” She waved her arms. “Do you really want them to have your cell? Can’t they track you or something? Watch your movements? That doesn’t seem like the smartest idea.”
“That why you ditched yours?”
“Yes.”
“Smart.” It shouldn’t have mattered that there was a hint of pride in that word. Maybe a hint of forgiveness, too?
“They won’t trace mine,” he said.
“How is yours different?”
“I have a friend who helps me out with technology. He scrambles the number for me when necessary, and he programmed in some kind of advanced encryption to make sure no one can keep an eye on me.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“With my security consulting business, I don’t take chances.” He disappeared into the other room and came back holding a pen and paper in his hand. He scribbled down digits. “Give your father this number.”
Samantha took the offerings. She called her father, praying he would pick up. There’d been complete silence between them since he’d told her to hide, and it raised the hairs on the back of her neck thinking about it. Had they gotten to him? A shiver ran through her.
No, please. He was old. Whatever he’d done in his past couldn’t have been that bad. Sure, he’d gone through a difficult phase after her mother had died. Everyone in the Turner household had, especially Samantha. His drinking had nearly done the family in. Then came that summer when Rebecca and Shane had been kidnapped. And Samantha’s father had sobered up. He’d said it was the wake-up call he’d needed. That he couldn’t stand to lose anyone else. He’d checked himself into rehab while her brothers took over the hardware shop. They’d stepped in to cover at home, too, and all had pitched in with household chores.
Hold on a minute. Samantha had met up with Rebecca recently at a restaurant in town. She’d brought her father along and he’d acted strangely around Rebecca. Samantha had been confused by his actions at first, but now they made sense. Had he been uncomfortable around her friend because he’d held back information about her and her brother’s abduction?
The line rang but her father didn’t answer.
Where was he?
If the person responsible for this craziness had gotten to him, then they most likely wouldn’t still be looking for her. Right?
Why would they be after her at all?
There was only one logical explanation. They must think she knew what had really happened.
As expected, her father’s line rolled into voice mail. She bit back a curse.
“Dad, please, I’m in trouble. I need to talk to you now. Call me back at this number.” She rattled off the digits and ended the call.
Dylan paced as she stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Come on, Daddy. Be okay. Call me back.
She hadn’t realized her hands were shaking until then.
This whole situation sounded all her internal warning bells. She’d known this guy had meant business from the start.
Regret engulfed her.
Dylan shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be involved. His daughter shouldn’t be scared and alone right now because of Samantha.
“Get up,” Dylan said harshly.
“What for?”
“We can’t sit around here all day.”
“What exactly do you plan to do? We no longer have a car, remember?”
“Don’t need one.”
“But—”
“If I had my way, you would stay right here until I could send someone for you. I doubt you’d let me get away with it. So you’re either in or out, and I’m leaving. You have to decide if you’re coming with me. Either way, I’ll walk away with a clean conscience knowing I gave you the choice. Choose wrong and that’s on your head, not mine.”
This was the Dylan she remembered, rough around the edges but real. He wasn’t the type to go behind a person’s back and exact revenge. If Dylan saw someone mistreating a puppy, a senior citizen or a kid, he’d walk straight up to them and tell them what he planned to do right before he punched them in the teeth. He’d even let them know which fist was coming. No cleaning the toilet with an offender’s toothbrush while he was out of the house. Dylan would wash out the guy’s mouth with soap. No apologies.
“Okay. I’m coming with you. At least tell me where we’re going.”
“I’m going to find the bastard who kidnapped my daughter.” Dylan shouldered his duffel, turned and walked out the door.
Chapter Five
“I know what I said before but we should go to the police now.” Samantha followed Dylan out the door and onto the side street. He pulled a hat from his duffel and then tossed it back to her.
“No. I won’t discuss your father with them.” He shook his head as if for emphasis.
His phone had been buzzing the entire time. Word must be spreading. Dylan would deal with that when he got home.
He called the sheriff and gave a statement.
“Call him back,” she pleaded. “I can tell them everything I know and that might help them find her.”
“Absolutely not.” He kept charging forward, setting a pace she could barely keep up with.
She jogged up to him and touched his shoulder. “I think—”
He spun around on her so fast she froze.
“As long as we find them first, I have a chance to get my daughter back unharmed. We make one wrong move and she’s dead. The police have done nothing but make mistakes when it comes to anything connected to the Mason Ridge Abductor. I can’t risk it with Maribel.”
If anything happened to Dylan’s little girl...
Samantha couldn’t allow herself to think about it. She had to be positive.
“Contact whoever took her. Tell them we’ll trade me for your daughter. I’m the one they want. She’s innocent and shouldn’t be involved in any of this.”
“We do that and you’re dead. I won’t exchange one life for another no matter how desperate this situation seems. Besides, we don’t know who’s behind this or where they’re keeping my daughter,” he said.
“There’s one way we might be able to find out. You said you have a friend who can hack into any device?”
Dylan nodded. His lips were so thin they almost disappeared.
“Then, have him do whatever he needs to in order to get into my father’s phone. He isn’t calling me back and that’s not good. There might be a clue in his log.”
“I already thought of that.” He dismissed her suggestion with a wave of his hand as he turned. “It won’t work. My contact already tapped into your line. The caller went to great lengths to hide his identity. He’s not stupid.”
There had to be some way to figure out who was behind this.
Dylan stopped. He surveyed the area, eyeing a motorcycle near the kitchen entrance to a restaurant. The metal-and-mesh screen door no doubt had been left open to let out heat from the ovens.
He motioned for Samantha to stay put, slipped inside and then returned a few minutes later with a helmet in hand. She had no idea how a man of his size could go unnoticed and was pretty certain the ability had been honed in his darker days. The idea of stealing didn’t sit well with her, either.
“Get on.”
She slid the helmet over her head and buckled the strap. It was a little too big for her but she didn’t figure this was the time to argue with Dylan about who should be the one to wear it. Besides, even she knew that her state didn’t require a helmet. Texas figured if a man was dumb enough to ride a motorcycle without one, they’d like to thin the herd.
“Take a stolen motorcycle out on the road and we’ll be in jail before dinner,” she said, tightening the strap.
“I bought it.”
“Someone sold you their motorcycle just like that?”
“I can be very convincing when I need to be.”
She had no doubt.
Dylan slid onto the seat in front of her. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his chest, remembering how frightened she’d been when he’d been shot earlier. Fear that had been all too familiar since this whole ordeal had begun. This past week had been the longest in her life, and the last thing she wanted to do was bring someone else into her problems. And yet having Dylan there brought a sense of calm to all this insanity.
The engine roared to life.
Dylan put his head down, shades on, and then weaved into the always heavy downtown Austin traffic.
Her body finally felt the weight of everything she’d been through in the past week. She didn’t want to remember the last time she’d really slept, or had a decent meal, for that matter. She’d been surviving on power bars and water. The protein was enough to keep her going, and staying hydrated just seemed to make sense, but it was all robotic.
Lack of rest settled over her like a steel blanket, pressing down over already exhausted limbs.
* * *
BY THE TIME Dylan pulled into town, it was dark. Samantha figured no one would expect them to roll in on a motorcycle. The ride had been long but, thankfully, without incident. Kramer, or whoever was behind this, would have expected them to take I-35, but Dylan had taken 190 to I-45 and come up as though from Houston instead of Austin. His plan had proved brilliant even though it had added time they both knew they didn’t have.
She recognized the storage facility on the edge of town where he stashed the Honda 500 as being fairly close to his small ranch.
“We can walk it from here,” Dylan said, which were the first words that had passed between them in more than five hours. If he blamed her for Maribel’s kidnapping, he didn’t let on. His green eyes were sharper now, determined.
Her body ached from lack of sleep and little food. Even though her stomach growled, she couldn’t imagine being able to hold down food. Not with what was at stake. Knowing a little girl’s life—Dylan’s little girl, at that—hung in the balance pretty much ensured Samantha couldn’t have eaten or slept if she’d tried.
