Texas Takedown (5 page)

Dylan told her the address of the hideout.

“On three, I want you to open that door and run into the alley. Don't look back. No matter what happens, keep going. Got it?”

“What if—?”

“One...”

The thought of splitting up and going in different directions had Samantha bracing for a full-on panic attack. She'd have to trust that Dylan knew what he was doing.

Given what she'd been through in the past few days, the idea of trusting anyone was almost laughable.

“Two...”

He glanced at her as though searching for confirmation.

She nodded and gripped the door handle.

“Three. Go!”

She pushed the door open and burst from the car, jolting toward the alley lined with parked vehicles until her thighs burned. Students were everywhere.

Dodging in and out of the human obstacle course, she ran harder as panic mounted. An icy grip around her rib cage squeezed. Where was Dylan?

She couldn't even think of anything happening to him. His little girl needed him.

The sound of shots fired made her knees wobble and the crowds scatter. She steadied herself and charged ahead, fighting the urge to look back, knowing that losing a precious second of advantage could cost her her life.

Where was he?

The absence of those intense green eyes on her was like being thrust into darkness. She'd do almost anything to see him again, to know he was okay. The only reason she missed him was because she hurt for his little girl, she tried to convince herself. Samantha knew what it was like to lose a parent. It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd become her lifeline in a matter of hours. Everything about his presence was soothing.

He'd risked his life to save her and she hadn't had a chance to thank him yet.

The thought of doing any of this without him brought on deep physical pain. She told herself it was because of his professional skills and not because of his strength or virility.

Except he had Maribel. And what if something happened to him?

Samantha would never forgive herself.

* * *

D
YLAN
 
PARKED
 
THE
 
CAR
and ran. He'd given Samantha a three-minute head start. He ducked, narrowly
avoiding the bullet that lodged into the brick two feet from his head. As far as good days went, barely escaping a head shot didn't rack up as one of them. With so many innocent civilians around, he wouldn't return fire and risk a stray bullet.

Zigzagging in and out of buildings, he cut left.

Samantha had no phone or GPS to guide her. She'd have to rely on the instructions he'd given her. Since she was in an understandably stressed-out state, he couldn't count on that happening.

Risking a glance behind, he caught sight of two men following him. Neither broke off in Samantha's direction. That was a win. Now all he had to do was shake them. Her theory of this being carried out by Thomas Kramer disintegrated. He'd worked alone, and whoever was behind this had resources.

Dylan pushed his legs harder, faster. The guys behind him were already showing signs of fatigue.

Good.

As long as he kept his pace, he could outrun them. Ducking in between houses, he circled back. Samantha should be long gone, but if she was in trouble, he hoped he'd get there in time.

The
whop-whop-whop
of a chopper sounded overhead; no doubt shots being fired had drawn police attention. He slid underneath a Suburban and waited.

After sixty seconds, the chopper noise faded.

Glancing around, he noted that the coast seemed clear of foot traffic, too.

As he slid out from underneath the SUV, a blow to the head came out of nowhere. Dylan stumbled forward, checking his balance by grabbing the SUV. Without turning, he dropped to a squat and, with one leg extended, swept behind him.

The contact was followed by a
clunk
, confirming a direct hit.

Pivoting, Dylan covered the guy who'd hit him with a quick jab and then ran. He needed to locate Samantha. He could only pray that his diversion tactic had worked. He'd promised to protect her. The thought of her being vulnerable was a sucker punch to his gut. He told himself it was because she was counting on him and he didn't want to let her down, and that it had nothing to do with the electricity humming inside him when she was near.

He blocked the image of her lying in the alley somewhere, hurt, out of his mind.

Focusing on their next steps, he decided his first action would be to change their appearances. The hideout would most likely have a much-needed change of clothes. He hoped she'd be there. Dylan covered the few blocks quickly.

The key was with Big Mike, just as Brody had said.

“I let in a lady several minutes ago,” Big Mike said. “Said her name was Samantha. She looked scared of her own shadow.”

After a heartfelt handshake and a thank-you, Dylan headed around back and climbed up the wooden staircase.

He slipped through the back door and waited.

“Samantha,” he whispered. There was no sound of her. With DEFCON silence, he crept through the small apartment. The living room and kitchen were clear. He moved to the bedroom next, careful not to make a noise. If she was there, she wasn't giving away her position. Why did that make his chest swell with pride?

He pushed the thought out of his mind, reminding himself that women were good at hiding things when they wanted to be. All things done in darkness eventually came to light. What else was Samantha keeping from him?

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw movement to his left inside the closet. A curtain acted as a makeshift door.

Caution dictated that he make no assumptions. The person was most likely Samantha, but until he had a visual, he wouldn't take it for granted. There was always the possibility that someone had gotten to her.

Damn.

Dylan took a step back.

The curtain burst open and Samantha sprang toward him. She landed with her body flush with his, and he tried not to think about how long it had been since a woman had been in his arms.

“Dylan. Thank God it's you.” Shock was in her eyes and deeply written across the lines of her forehead. “I was so scared.”

“Of course it is,” he soothed.

She gulped in air and he could see her pulse racing wildly.

“I'm here now. Everything's okay,” he said, holding her.

“They were so close and I heard the shot. Oh, God, I panicked.” She gulped another breath like a fish struggling out of water. “I—I—I didn't know what to do, so I ran here as fast as I could.”

Another swallow of air.

She was about to hyperventilate.

Dylan could either slap her or kiss her to snap her back to reality. Since he'd never once lifted a hand to a woman and had no plans to start now, the choice was clear. He dipped his head low and pressed his lips against hers, half expecting another knee to his groin in return.

Shock registered when her lips moved against his and her fingers tunneled into his hair, deepening the kiss.

She pulled away first, pushing him back a step and glaring at him. “We need to figure this out.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “I was just trying to calm you down. I'm here as your friend.”

It was a kiss he wouldn't forget anytime soon but a line that should never have been crossed, no matter how many times he'd wanted to do that in high school.
Since high school.

“You'd do well to remember that.” Her breathing had steadied, but she was angry. “We need a different plan. I can go to one of my brothers' places. You can't be involved.”

“I'm sorry for what I did just now, but I still want to help.”

Her head was already shaking. “Not a good idea. He was specific. I should've just gone to my brothers in the first place and not tried to figure this out on my own. Then, you wouldn't be here.”

Dylan figured he'd led this guy straight to her. What happened earlier was on him. His ringtone broke through the awkward moment. He immediately answered when he saw Brody's name, noticing that he had a missed call.

“There's no good way to put this,” Brody started, and an ominous feeling rolled through Dylan.

“Just come out with it.” This wasn't going to be good. Waiting never made it better.

A deep sigh came across the line. “I wanted to notify you before the Amber Alert was issued. Maribel is missing.”

Chapter Four

Dylan dropped to his knees. A dozen emotions pinged through his chest, rapid-fire like an AR-15 and with the same devastating effects. Rage battled to the surface, making him want to rip apart the first thing he could get his hands on. Ten years ago—hell, three—and he would've done just that. He was a different man now, and especially since Maribel had come into his life.

The image of his little girl waving to him at the kitchen door wearing the Mickey Mouse backpack that was almost as big as she was assaulted him. His military training kicked in, and that was the only reason he didn't explode in anger. It was the only thing keeping him from putting his fist through the nearest wall.

“Tell me exactly how it happened,” he said through clenched teeth.

“First of all, Mrs. Applebee tried to call. She didn't want to lose time, so she immediately phoned me when she couldn't reach you or Ms. Anderson.” Ms. Anderson was first on the emergency call list. Brody and Rebecca were second.

“Maribel was on the playground at the Dinosaur Park,” Brody continued, “and teachers were stationed at each corner. Mrs. Applebee blew the whistle. Kids lined up. Teachers counted heads. They turned up one short.” Brody's voice was racked with agony.

Dylan knew his friends loved Maribel, too. That wasn't the thought he intended to focus on at the moment, and yet his brain didn't want to accept the reality that she was missing.

This had to be a mistake.

“Any chance she's inside somewhere? Hiding in one of the bathrooms at the ranger station?” he asked.

“The headmaster checked each one personally. She and the staff looked in every possible nook and cranny. Mrs. Applebee called the sheriff to file a report immediately.”

Dylan was four hours away in Austin while his daughter was probably scared half to death wandering around somewhere, lost. He didn't even want to go there with the possibility she could be lost in the woods overnight. What kind of father was he to let this happen?

He pushed to his feet.

“We're all searching for her. We'll get her back. Stay positive, bro,” Brody said. His solemn tone belied his words. “This is not your fault.”

Yes, it is.
Guilt raided Dylan. He was supposed to be on that field trip. If he'd kept his schedule as planned, then Maribel would be safe right now and not out there alone, stranded, scared.

It wasn't like his daughter to wander off.

Maybe Lyndsey had had good reason to be afraid that Dylan would be a lousy parent. She'd never really told him why she'd kept their daughter from him.

Samantha took Dylan's fisted hand, opened it and, palm to palm, wrapped her fingers around his. He squeezed hers and then let go. He walked across the room, turned toward the door and spoke low into his cell. “Have you spoken to the sheriff?”

“Rebecca is trying to get through to him now. She's been getting the runaround.” Brody paused a beat. “She's sick about this. Said it's all her fault for asking you for a favor.”

“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.”

* * *

L
OOKING
 
INTO
D
YLAN
'
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.”

“Then, 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.