Texas Kidnapping

by Barb Han

  “I don’t have many regrets with your father,” his mother started after he claimed a seat. “We had a beautiful marriage. Not perfect, mind you. But it was better than I ever dreamed possible considering I never saw my parents show affection one time. I think they came from a generation of ‘united front’ mindset.”

  He chuckled. His grandparents had been stiff people. He couldn’t remember a time when his grandmother wasn’t dressed to the nines, wearing her pearls, sipping tea from a delicate cup. “Remember when I poured Nana’s tea into a coffee mug once?”

  Margaret laughed. “I thought she would have a heart attack.”

  “But she was too proper to scold me.”

  “Her back went straighter than a board.” Margaret slapped her hands together. It felt good to make her laugh. Damned if she didn’t deserve to smile again. Grief would be a cloud over her, the ranch, for a while. There was a time for grief and a time to laugh. He’d grab every happy moment he could. “But her face was priceless.”

  “Her lip was stiffer than the queen’s.”

  Now, his mother really laughed and it was a musical sound.

  “What about Ruth Hubert?” Margaret leaned forward and her serious expression returned.

  “Remains to be seen.” He needed to set realistic expectations. “It’ll most likely take time to unravel that tangled mess.”

  “Her files?”

  “They’ll take a while to unpack.” Cash knew exactly what his mother was asking. Could Ms. Hubert possibly be connected to Caroline’s disappearance?

  Time would tell.

  “Abby’s adoption?” she asked.

  “Is legitimate. Colton will be working with the feds on the Hubert adoption ring. We won’t give up until we find out if she had anything to do with Caroline’s case.” He looked at his mother, who was surrounded by her books in the library. He wished he could give her the answers she needed.

  “You got hold of Garrett.” She smiled.

  “He’s coming.” Cash nodded.

  “Your father wouldn’t want me to be sad.” She had that part right.

  “No. He wouldn’t.”

  “He wouldn’t want you to be, either.”

  “It’s hard not to miss him.” Another point there was no argument for. “He left big shoes to fill.”

  Margaret clucked her tongue. “You’ve always been your own person, Cash. Your father wouldn’t want it any other way. He would never expect you to become him in any way and that means working here at the ranch. You can do anything you want, be anything you want.”

  “My place is here. I want to be here and take my place on the ranch. What you guys built here should be carried forward for—”

  She held up her hand to stop him. “You love your job. It’s important to do work that you feel passionate about.”

  “I love this, too.” He nodded in the direction of the backyard. There was one case that he hadn’t solved and it was his reason to go to work every day. “I’m not ready to give up my job just yet. Make no mistake about it, this is my home. This ranch, this land is exactly where I belong. This is ultimately where my heart says I should be. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  Cash looked for a sign of disapproval or acceptance in his mother’s face. She gave no hint of her feelings. When he really thought about it, she’d always been there for him. Never judging him. Always making him feel like he couldn’t go wrong. He thought about Abby and how ready he was to become her father. The fact that he even wanted kids at all was news to him. The little girl held special magic in her smile if it made him want to sign on to parenthood.

  But then, she was special. She deserved parents who gave her the same kind of unconditional love Cash had grown up with.

  “Take your time. A place will always be here waiting for you,” his mother said and he realized she’d been studying him.

  “The only thing I know for certain right now is that I want to make Renee my wife and adopt Abby.”

  His mother beamed. “I like her a lot.” She paused. “She accepted my job offer to work on the ranch.”

  “Seems like a good way to get to know the family business.” In losing his father, Cash realized how very short time actually was in this life. Instead of it making him depressed, he saw it as a call to action.

  “I want to be part of the business again and I don’t want to wait. If we could take it slow for now and work up to me being here full-time one day, that would be ideal.” He would come to his own in the family ranch. He wanted to be part of it. But not yet. He hadn’t solved his biggest case yet.

  But for now, he was focused on Renee and Abby. And that was enough.

  * * *

  Look for the next book in USA TODAY

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  in November 2020!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Line of Duty by Nichole Severn.

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  The Line of Duty

  by Nichole Severn

  Chapter One

  He had a lead.

  The partial fingerprint he’d lifted from the murder scene hadn’t been a partial at all, but evidence of a severe burn on the owner’s index finger that altered the print. He hadn’t been able to get an ID with so few markers to compare before leaving New York City a year ago. But now, Blackhawk Security forensic expert Vincent Kalani finally had a chance to bring down a killer.

  He hauled his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. He had to get back to New York, convince his former commanding officer to reopen the case. His muscles burned under the weight as he ducked beneath the small passenger plane’s wing and climbed inside. Cold Alaskan air drove beneath his heavy coat, but catching sight of the second passenger already aboard chased back the chill.

  “Shea Ramsey.” Long, curly dark hair slid over her shoulder as jade-green eyes widened in surprise. His entire body nearly gave in to the increased sense of gravity pulling at him had it not been for the paralysis working through his muscles. Officer Shea Ramsey had assisted Blackhawk Security with investigations in the past at the insistence of Anchorage’s chief of police, but her formfitting pair of jeans, T-shirt and zip-up hoodie announced she wasn’t here on business. Hell, she was a damn beautiful woman, an even better investigator and apparently headed to New York. Same as him. “Anchorage Police Department’s finest, indeed.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Shea shuffled her small backpack at her feet, crossing her arms over her midsection. The tendons between her shoulders and neck corded with tension as she stared out her side of the plane. No mistaking the bitterness in her voice. “Is Blackhawk following me now?”

  “Should we be?” Blackhawk Security provided top-of-the-line security measures for their exclusive clientele, including cameras, body-heat sensors, motion detectors and more. Whatever their clients needed, Sullivan Bishop and his team delivered. Personal protection, network security, private investigating, logistical support to the US government and personal recovery. They even had their very own profiler on staff to aid the FBI with serial cases. The firm did it all. Vincent mainly headed the forensics division, but he’d take up any case with Shea’s involvement in a heartbeat. His gut tightened. Hard to ignore the quiet strength she’d kept close to the vest when they partnered together on these past few cases. It’d pulled him in, made him want to get to know her more, but she’d only met him—and every member of his team—with resentment. Not all Anchorage PD officers agreed with the partnership between the city and the m
ost prestigious security firm in Alaska. Officer Ramsey led that charge.

  He shoved his duffel into the cargo area as the pilot maneuvered into his seat. The small plane bounced with the movement. The cabin, he couldn’t help but notice, filled with her scent. “I’m not here on Blackhawk business. I’ve got...personal business to take care of in New York. You?”

  “I have a life outside of the department.” She hadn’t turned to look at him, her knuckles white through the taut skin of her hands as she gripped the seat’s arms. The plane’s engine growled at the push of a button, rotors sending vibrations through the sardine can meant to get them halfway to New York in one piece before they switched to another aircraft to make the rest of the trip.

  “You guys ready?” the pilot asked. “Here are your headsets.”

  Hell, Shea was so tense as she took hers, she probably thought the wrong gust of wind could shoot them out of the sky. She closed her eyes, muscles working hard in her throat. The tarmac attendants removed the heavy rubber blocks from around the plane’s wheels, and they slowly rolled forward. Every muscle down her spine seemed to further tighten.

  Something inside him felt for her, forced him to reach out to offer assurance. Vincent positioned the headset over his ears, then slid his hand on top of hers. Smooth skin caught on the calluses in his palms, and suddenly those green eyes were on him. In an instant, her fingers tangled with his. Heat exploded through him, the breath rushing out of his lungs as she gripped on to him as though her life depended on it.

  Pressure built behind his sternum as the small passenger plane raced down the runway, then climbed higher into the sky. His back pressed into the soft leather seats, but his attention focused 100 percent on the woman beside him. On the way her skin remained stretched along her forearm revealing the map of veins below, on the unsteady rising and falling of her shoulders when she breathed. Snow-capped mountains disappeared below the windows, only reappearing as the plane leveled out high above the peaks mere minutes later. The pilot directed them toward the mountains, but the pressure hadn’t released from his rib cage. Not when Shea was still holding on to him so tightly. He raised his voice over the sound of the engine. “I’m going to need that hand back sooner or later.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Shea released her grip, then wiped her palm down her thigh, running the same hand through her curly hair. Her voice barely registered above the noise around them. “You’d think five years on the job would give me a little more backbone when it came to planes.”

  “There’s a difference between facing the bad guys and facing our fears.” His hand was still warm from where their skin had made contact, and he curled his fingers into his palm to hold on to it for as long as he could. “At least there was for me.”

  She slid that beautiful gaze to his, the freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheeks more pronounced than a few minutes ago. “You were with NYPD’s forensics unit for nine years before you came out here, right? Can’t imagine there’s much that scares you anymore.”

  She’d be surprised. Her words slowly sank in over the engine’s mid-frequency drone, and Vincent narrowed his attention. She’d looked into him. There was no way she could’ve known how long he’d worked forensics by simply searching for him on the internet. NYPD records weren’t public information. Which meant she’d used her access through federal databases. Out of curiosity? Or something else? His attention darted to his duffel bag. He’d booked a private passenger plane out of Merrill Field for a reason. The SIG SAUER P226 with twelve deadly rounds of ammo in the magazine was currently nestled in his bag. He’d worked with Officer Ramsey before. The background check the firm had run on her when Blackhawk had need of the department’s assistance on past investigations hadn’t connected her with anyone from his past. But what were the chances that she of all people had ended up on this flight? “Someone’s been doing their homework.”

  “All of you Blackhawk Security types are the same. You take the law into your own hands and don’t care if you jeopardize the department’s cases. You run your own investigations, then expect officers like me to clean up your mess. You’re vigilantes, and you endanger the people in this city every time you step out of your downtown high-rise office. So, yes, I’ve done my homework. I like to know who I’m being forced to work with.” She pinned him to his seat with that green gaze, and the world disappeared around them. “And you...you were a cop. You used to have a conscience.”

  Vincent clenched his back teeth against the fire exploding through him. He leaned into her, ensuring she couldn’t look away this time. “You have no idea—”

  The plane jerked downward, throwing his heart into his throat. The engine choked, then started up again. He locked his attention out through the plane’s windshield. His pulse beat loudly behind his ears. The rotors were slowing, grinding. He shouldn’t have been able to track a single propeller if they were running at the right speed. Gripping one hand around his seat’s arm, he pressed his shoulders into the leather and shouted into his mic. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know.” The pilot shot his hand to the instrument panel. “We’re losing altitude fast, but all of the gauges check out.” Wrapping his hand around the plane’s handheld CB radio, the pilot raised his voice over the protests of the engine. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Merrill Field, this is Captain Reginald, a Robin DR400, Delta-Echo, Lima, Juliet, Golf, with total engine failure attempting forced landing. Last known position seven miles east of Anchorage; 1,500 feet heading ninety degrees.” Static filled their headsets. “Can anybody read me?” The pilot looked back at his passengers. “The controls aren’t responding! I’m going to have to try to put her down manually!”

  Vincent pressed his hand to the window and searched the ridges and valleys below for a safe place they could land. Nothing but pure white snow and miles of mountains. Jagged peaks, trees. There was no way they’d survive a forced landing here. There were no safe places to land.

  “No, no, no. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The panic in Shea’s voice flooded his veins with ice. She grabbed her backpack off the floor from between her feet and clutched it to her chest. Fear showed brightly in her eyes a split second before she was thrown back in her seat. She clutched the window. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  The engine smoked, and the plane jerked again. Vincent slammed into the side door. Pain ricocheted through the side of his head, but he forced it to the back of his mind. They were losing altitude fast, and dizziness gripped him hard. They had to get the engine back up and running, or they were all going to die. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Double-checking his seat belt, Vincent locked on Shea’s terrified features. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The mountain directly outside her window edged closer. “Watch out!”

  Metal met rock in an ear-piercing screech. The mountain cut into the side of the plane, taking the right wing, then caught on the back stabilizer and ripped off the tail end. Cold Alaska air rushed into the cabin as luggage and supplies vanished into the wilderness. The plane rocked to one side, the ground coming up to meet them faster than Vincent expected. He dug his fingers into the leather armrest, every muscle in his body tensed.

  The pilot’s voice echoed through the cabin. “Brace for impact!”

  He reached out for Shea. “Hang on!”

  * * *

  THE SKY WAS on fire.

  Red streaks bled into purple on one side and green on the other as she stared out the small window to her right, stars prickling through the auroras she’d fallen in love with the very first night she’d come to Anchorage. Rocky peaks and trees framed her vision, and every cell in her body flooded with pain in an instant. A groan caught in Shea Ramsey’s throat, the weight on her chest blocking precious oxygen. Her feet were numb. How long had she been unconscious? Her hands shook as she tested the copilot seat weighing on her sternum. Closing her eyes against the agony, she put everyt
hing she had into getting out from under the hunk of metal and leather, but it wouldn’t budge.

  The plane had gone down, Vincent’s shout so loud in her head. And then... Shea pushed at the debris again as panic clawed through her. They’d crashed in the mountains. The pilot hadn’t been able to reach anyone on the radio. Did anyone even know they were out here? She couldn’t breathe. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as the remains of the plane came into focus. Along with the unconscious man in the seat beside her. “Vincent, can you hear me?”

  His long black hair covered the pattern of tattoos inked into his arms and neck as well as his overly attractive face. His Hawaiian heritage and that body of a powerful demigod had tugged at something primal within her every time she was forced to work alongside him in the field, but she’d buried that feeling deep. He shouldn’t have been here. The pilot had told her she’d be the only passenger on this flight. She hadn’t meant for the Blackhawk Security operative to get involved—hadn’t meant anyone to get involved—but she’d been so desperate to get to New York. That same determination tore through her now as the plane jerked a few more inches along the snowbank. Out Vincent’s window it looked like they’d crashed at the base of a steep cliffside, with nothing but sky and snow in every direction. A scream escaped her throat as the cabin shook. One wrong move would send them down the short slope and over the edge.

  “Shea.” A groan reached her ears as Vincent stirred in his seat. Locking soothing brown eyes on her through the trail of blood snaking through his left eyebrow, he pushed his hair back with one hand. “That...did not go as I expected. But we’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”