by Diana Palmer
Still, he couldn’t help but look her over. She was more beautiful than he’d remembered. She was slightly slimmer than before, but her figure was still luscious, her hair the color of wheat, her lips pouty, and her eyes the same golden shade of green.
Those eyes had once mesmerized him, seduced him, made him want to give her everything her heart desired. Made him want to save her from that vicious uncle of hers, and promise her the moon.
But instead of the flirty, vibrant glow they had always emanated, instead of the soft innocence he’d known, they radiated with a cold harshness that nearly took his breath.
Because of what she’d seen on the job—or because of him?
The cruel words he’d tossed at her the last time he’d seen her echoed in his head. God, he’d been a bastard. Eaten up with his own guilt and fear.
And he’d taken it all out on her.
“Brody,” she said, her voice slightly warbling. “Maybe we should go inside to talk.”
The wedding party had left and Brody wasn’t sure he wanted to go inside. He needed the fresh air to stem the nausea rolling through him. “Out here is fine.”
Her fingers tensed around her shoulder bag, then he noticed it was more of a briefcase than a purse. “I have some things to show you, some photographs,” she said indicating the bag. “We really need a place to spread them out.”
His gut tightened. Pictures that would tell a story about what had happened to his little brother…
God help him. Did he really want to know?
“I understand this is difficult,” Julie said. “Please, Brody, let’s go inside and get it over with.”
That tone sucked the hope from him. Was she afraid of his reaction?
Afraid of him?
The need to apologize nagged at him, but he couldn’t make his voice work. She was right. Prolonging whatever news she’d come to deliver was only putting off the inevitable. Better she tell him then she could leave.
And he could deal with it in his own way.
Resigned, he gestured toward the door, then opened it. She paused to study the foyer when she entered, her gaze sweeping across the hardwood floors to the winding staircase that led to his master suite and the guest rooms. The downstairs consisted of his own office with other offices available for his partners, and he’d converted the detached garage into a clinic for medical and counseling purposes.
“I heard about the BBL and the wonderful things you’re doing here,” Julie said. “You should be proud, Brody.”
He gave a clipped nod, well aware they were both making polite conversation to avoid the real topic as he led her to his office.
“Do you want coffee?” he asked, still stalling.
She shook her head. “No, thanks.” Then she opened her bag and removed a file and laid it on the conference table in the middle of the room.
His stomach twisted, and he leaned his hands on the table and faced her as she sat down. “For God’s sake, just tell me, Julie. Is Will dead or is he alive?”
*
JULIE SIGHED, her heart aching at the pain in Brody’s voice. “We think he’s alive.”
The air left his lungs in a rush. “What do you mean, you think he’s alive?”
“Sit down, Brody, and I’ll explain.”
“Sit down?” Brody exploded. “You know how long I’ve waited to find out what happened to him, and you’re dragging it out. Why are you torturing me like this?”
Julie choked back a cry of denial. How could he think she’d be so cruel?
Because he still hates you, still blames you…
She swallowed back her emotions, plastered on her professional mask. She had to pretend like this wasn’t personal, treat it like any other case.
“I’m not trying to do that,” she finally said. “But it’s been seven years, Brody. Children change as they grow up. They…Will won’t look exactly the same as he did the last time you saw him.”
Brody’s face grew pinched. But he sat down in the chair, then raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, tell me what you know. Where is he? What happened to him?”
Julie inhaled a deep breath. “We’ve used facial recognition software, a program that gives us sketches of what Will might look like as he aged, to keep his file updated.”
Brody nodded. “And?”
“We’ve kept that photo in the national databases, and we got a hit.”
“A hit?”
She nodded. “Yes, but we’ll have to run DNA to be certain that this teenager is your brother.”
Brody clenched his jaw. “Go on.”
This was the hard part. “Will showed up in camera feed from a robbery at a convenience store in Amarillo yesterday.”
Brody’s eyes widened. “A robbery? Who was he with? Was he hurt?”
Julie opened the folder and removed the photos they’d pulled from the camera feed. “He was with another teenager,” Julie said. “And no, he wasn’t hurt. Will was the one holding a gun on the cashier.”
*
BRODY’S MIND BLURRED for a moment. Did Julie say his brother had held a gun on a cashier? “That can’t be right,” he said. “Will…wouldn’t…”
“Brody,” Julie said. “Like I said, we can’t be certain it is Will, but it looks like him.” She spread another series of shots on the table. “See for yourself.”
Brody choked back another protest of denial then leaned forward to study the shots. He wanted to insist that his brother would never rob anyone or use a gun to threaten another person, but it had been seven long years since he’d seen him.
Seven years where Will had been off the grid.
No telling what had happened to him in that time.
“I’m sorry, Brody, I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” Julie said. “But the good news is that, if this is Will, he’s alive.”
Her words reverberated in his head. Within a few weeks after Will had gone missing, the police had given up. Since the family hadn’t received a ransom note, the authorities had deemed his brother dead.
So they’d stopped looking.
But he’d sworn on his mother’s grave that he would never give up.
Julie was right—if this boy was Will, at least he was alive. That meant there was hope he might get him back. But what had happened to him in the meantime?
Would Will even remember him?
Julie shifted, and he jerked his gaze to the photos, determined to ignore the pull of attraction he still felt for her. He was ashamed of the way he’d treated her back then and owed her an apology.
But now wasn’t the time. First, he had to find out about his brother.
“What do you think?” Julie asked, all business.
He chewed the inside of his cheek. It was hard to see the teenager’s entire face because of that hoodie. A hoodie he’d worn to hide himself from the cameras, meaning he had planned the robbery.
He envisioned his brother the way he was when he’d last seen him. Blondish-brown hair, freckles, crooked teeth, a cowlick that wouldn’t quit. He’d been a pest at times, always following Brody around on the ranch, wanting him to show him riding tricks, spying on him when he’d tried to be alone with Julie.
That last day Brody had been annoyed with him. He’d driven Will to the rodeo, but he and Julie had wanted to slip away and make out, and he’d decided nothing was going to stop him. His old man had always shuffled Will off on him to watch while he boozed it up, and Brody had had enough.
He’d found Will a seat in the stands, thinking he’d stay put until the show was over, then he and Julie had rushed into one of the empty stalls and begun tearing at each other’s clothes.
It was the best sex he’d ever had.
And the worst day of his life.
When they’d finally dressed and headed back to the stands, Will had been gone. At first he hadn’t panicked. He’d assumed his brother had gone for popcorn or to watch one of the rodeo riders saddle up.
But an hour later total fear had seized him.<
br />
That terror had kept him in knots since.
“Brody, what do you think?” Julie asked.
He pushed the haunting memories away so he wouldn’t break down in front of Julie. “It looks like him,” he said. “But…I can’t imagine Will robbing a store. He was always a good kid.”
A tense heartbeat passed between them. “We have no idea why Will would rob a store,” Julie said. “Or what he’s been through the last few years. Someone could have forced him to commit the robbery.”
His gaze met hers. She was right.
“There’s a gang pulling similar crimes across the state,” Julie continued. “It’s possible that he was picked up years ago and raised by a family. Maybe for some reason he’s gotten in with the wrong crowd and this was some kind of gang initiation.”
She was making excuses for him, trying to put the best-case scenario on the situation. It was possible that some loving woman or couple, desperate for a child, had kidnapped Will and raised him as their own.
But they both knew there were other possibilities. The horror stories of pedophiles and kidnappers who abducted children and used them for their own pleasure, who sold them or traded them to other sickos, filled the news. Sex, abuse…the crimes were horrific.
And here in this photo, the teenager, Will, didn’t look as if he was being forced to rob the store. It appeared to be a premeditated act.
“If this is him and he’s alive, why didn’t he try to contact me over the years?” Brody asked.
Another awkward pause, then Julie raked the pictures back into a stack. “I don’t know. It’s possible he’s suffering from Stockholm syndrome. We’ll find out when we catch him.”
Brody slanted his eyes toward her, his heart pounding. Of course the police were looking for Will. And when they caught him, they would arrest him.
“Do you have any idea where he is?”
“Not yet,” Julie said. “But when we determine a location, we’re going to need your help, Brody.”
“What do you mean?”
Julie’s eyes went cold again. “To bring him in.”
Anger heated his blood. He couldn’t believe what she was asking of him.
Reeling from the very idea, he paced across the room and stared out the window. Outside, a carriage draped in white lace and ribbons carried Mason and his bride to their cabin for the night. They looked so happy and in love. Soon they’d be leaving for their honeymoon and starting their future together.
A future he’d once wanted with this woman.
But she wasn’t the loving, tenderhearted girl he’d known back then. She was a hardened agent who hadn’t come here to offer him comfort. No, dammit, she wanted him to set a trap for his brother.
This ranch, the boys, his home…he’d done it all for Will. All in hopes that he’d find him and bring him home.
But Julie wanted him to help send Will to jail instead.
He didn’t know if he could do it.
“I understand this is a lot to take in,” Julie said, buttoning the navy jacket she wore. Another reminder she was a TBI agent, not here because she cared. “But think about it, Brody.”
“What happens if I don’t help?”
She dropped her gaze to the file. “Then we go after him by ourselves.”
“And if you catch him and he fights back?”
Tension stretched between them for a long second, then she shifted and straightened in the chair. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure he’s not hurt.”
Brody saw red. “Listen here, Julie. My poor little brother has been missing for years, was probably kidnapped, possibly abused and most likely forced to steal, and you cops want to bring him in like he’s some hardened criminal. He was a victim, for God’s sake.”
Julie bit down on her lower lip then stood. “I’m well aware of all that. And like I said, I’ll do everything I can to ensure his safety.”
Brody hated her cool attitude, the fact that she was here now invading his space, getting his hopes up yet tearing them apart again. Smelling so sweet and feminine and reminding him of all he’d lost.
“Dammit, Julie, when did you get so cold? This may be just a job to you, but it’s my brother. If I have to help to make sure he’s not hurt and that he gets a fair shake, then I’ll cooperate. But my brother is going to receive counseling or whatever help he needs. He is not going to jail.”
Julie’s eyes flickered with hurt for a brief second before she shut down. But in that second, Brody knew he’d made a terrible mistake. Once again, his emotions had gotten the better of him and he’d lashed out at her.
She snatched up the photos, jammed them in her bag then swung it over her shoulder. “Fine. You can be a jerk to me, but I’m just doing my job. I’ll be in touch.”
Rage fueled his temper again. She’d be in touch? She sounded like some machine, like there had never been anything personal between them.
Like she’d never let him tear off her clothes and touch her secret, sweet places. Like they’d never made love until both of them were too exhausted to move.
Then she turned and strode out the front door. The sound of it slamming was like a slap to his face.
He needed to apologize.
Thank her for telling him about Will, for not giving up. For personally coming to deliver the news instead of letting some stranger, another agent or cop that he didn’t know, do the job.
But by the time he reached the front porch, her car was racing away, disappearing in a cloud of dust.
He leaned against the porch rail and sucked in the fresh air, willing himself to keep it together. Hell, it didn’t matter if she was mad at him. He’d lost her a long time ago.
All that mattered was that he find his brother, clear his name and bring him back to the BBL where he belonged.
*
JULIE TRIED TO control her emotions until she was off the BBL, but the floodgates opened and the tears rained down by the time she left the drive. She’d known coming today wouldn’t be easy, that feelings would be raw.
Both his and hers.
But some part of her had hoped that Brody might have forgiven her, that he’d welcome her help.
She swiped at her cheeks, gulping back a sob. Heaven help her, how could she still want him so badly?
Even as she’d told Brody he was a jerk, she knew it wasn’t true. He was a good guy. He donated millions to help those troubled kids, had opened up his heart and home to them.
It was just her he hated.
She didn’t blame him.
But it still hurt.
You’ll get through this just like you have before. Then you’ll move onto the next case.
Only Brody had been wrong. Finding Will hadn’t simply been a case to her. His disappearance was the reason she’d joined the TBI. The reason she’d devoted her life to tracking down missing kids and putting the bad guys in jail.
It was also the reason she’d never married, the reason she couldn’t let Jay into her heart. The reason she’d never been with anyone since Brody.
The reason she never would.
*
KYLE LET HIMSELF INSIDE the old house, then dumped the cash he’d gotten on the table for his father. The old man wouldn’t like the fact that he and RJ had almost gotten caught.
His hand shook as he felt the gun in the pocket of his sweatshirt. Perspiration beaded his neck and hands. He was glad he’d taken the bullets out before the hold-up. He hadn’t wanted it to go off and hurt someone.
Even if Father had taught him to kill the enemy, he wasn’t a killer.
Footsteps pounded on the steps below, and he stared at the basement door. Locked.
A scream sounded from below. Crying.
The new boy.
Hank, that was his real name. He’d heard the news story on the radio when he’d gone into that store. Hank’s parents had been begging people to come forward and help them find their son. They’d acted like they really cared.
But that wasn’t what Father
said.
The boy cried out again, and Kyle stepped outside, walking far enough away that he couldn’t hear the kid’s cries. But even as the night sounds of the woods buffeted Hank’s pleas to let him go, they resounded in Kyle’s head.
He’d spent time in that pit himself. Knew what the darkness felt like. How cold and empty the days were. How terrified it was to be locked up in there alone.
Sometimes he’d been so scared he’d clawed his arms till they bled. He’d tried to remember a time before he’d been brought to Father and enrolled in his army.
But the shadows and night sounds and vile smells in the pit had robbed his mind of those.
He’d been hungry, too. So hungry he’d eaten dirt just to fill his belly. Then he’d been sick and craved water, but Father refused to give him water until he repented and learned to be a good soldier.
Father said it was training, that he had to teach him to be a man.
At first, he’d cried and begged and pleaded for him to let him out. But that had brought more punishments because men and soldiers didn’t cry or beg.
Eventually he’d been so worn down, he’d stopped crying. Stopped begging.
Then Father had let him out.
And he’d believed every word Father said.
Even that his other family hadn’t wanted him. That they had sent him to Father to teach him to be strong and to join his army.
But Hank’s?
It sounded like his family loved him, that they wanted him back. That they hadn’t given him up.
But Father would never let him go now.
And one day Hank would stop crying and learn to do what he had to do to fit in.
Just like he and the others had.
CHAPTER THREE
Julie struggled to pull herself together. Notifying any family member regarding the status of a missing loved one was difficult, but seeing Brody and resurrecting the painful memories of their past was even more difficult than she’d imagined.
Especially because it made her long for the love they had lost.
Not that she had ever seen real love in her life. Her parents had died when she was a baby and her aunt and uncle had taken her in. Her aunt was a sweet, mousy, cowardly woman who’d sat back and allowed her husband to run over her.
