“You have a lot of nerve coming back after twelve years and trying to pick up like nothing ever happened after you left.”

Alicia closed her eyes, inhaled deeply. “I get it. You’re a naval officer who probably has a gal in every port. Well, Lieutenant Sloan, my little part of the world doesn’t have a dock. It’s centered around a four-year-old child. I’m her whole world. And I don’t take risks with it.”

“I get it.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I have responsibilities to Lauren and have no intention of jeopardizing that by dating. Let alone having sex in a dried-up field with a man I haven’t seen or heard from in over a decade.”

“Don’t worry about Lauren. We’ll get her back.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Never.” He’d never hate her. He’d also never stop wanting her with every part of his being. Never.

Navy SEAL

Surrender

Angi Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANGI MORGAN writes Mills & Boon® Intrigue novels “where honor and danger collide with love.” She combines actual Texas settings with characters who are in realistic and dangerous situations. Angi has been a finalist for the Booksellers’ Best Award, RT Book Reviews Best First Series, Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and the Daphne du Maurier Award.

Angi and her husband live in North Texas, with only the four-legged “kids” left in the house to interrupt her writing. They recently began volunteering for a local Labrador foster program. Visit her website, www.angimorgan.com, or hang out with her on Facebook.

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Many moons ago, I graduated high school with a small group of kids. Brian & Johnny are fictional characters but named after two men who won’t be returning at our next reunion. Several of the names in the Sloane brothers’ stories are familiar to my friends, but do not reflect any of their true personalities. All the characters are fictional, but not my friendship with my classmates.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Extract

Chapter One

Join the navy. See the world.

“I don’t think they meant the sandboxes I’ve been playing in.” John Sloane had met and helped a lot of great people around the world. He’d been to several cool cities, nice ports and seen a lot of water. But he never wanted to see most of the places his unit had been deployed again—even in the news.

Back in Texas. Right back where he’d started wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he was eighteen. But right now he didn’t care about choices or destinations. He just wanted information on his dad.

He’d returned from a training exercise and was told that his father had suffered a major stroke. When he couldn’t reach the house or his dad, he’d called the police station with no luck. They’d refused to help.

From the message, he knew that his father was alive and at the ranch. He’d arranged extended leave and a ticket back to his hometown. Taking as much time off as he wanted wasn’t a problem. He had a lot stored up. He wanted to be here as long as needed to get his father back on his feet. The only objective so far was to get home.

Two hours in triple-digit heat with the rental’s AC whacked-out had added to his building frustration. He was sailing blind with no information, since his brother hadn’t returned his calls and the home phone seemed to be out of order.

If John was being honest—no sense lying to himself—he hadn’t been the most dependable brother. Or the most communicative. Since they’d learned to open their mouths, Brian had been the twin to tell the world what they needed. Brian had been the responsible one keeping him out of trouble, right up to his last words to him, “Leave and never look back.”

That was exactly what he’d done.

John had followed through on his promise, joined the navy, left the ranch and had never come back.

In the navy, he wasn’t Brian’s twin or Johnny Junior or the baby. He’d quickly risen to chief petty officer and was the man you went to with a problem. He was the guy who got things done. Action, not words.

Then things changed. Promotions after online classes and a college degree. Instead of solving the problems, he followed orders. Now a lieutenant, he was the man responsible if someone got shot. A man who’d been doing too much thinking recently.

Texas? California? Navy? Private sector? Which road should just simple John choose? Too much thinking.... Right now he would help his dad, work the horses and maybe—just maybe—reconnect with his brother. That was the mission.

Deciding his future could wait.

His hometown was just ahead, and suddenly he didn’t feel so confident. Since that short good riddance right after graduation, he hadn’t seen or spoken to Brian. John hadn’t seen his father in almost three years. How would the town see him now? Who would he be after twelve years? The man he’d become, or the kid the town remembered?

Aubrey looked like a busy small town instead of the bus-stop intersection with one red light he’d left. Lots of changes, and yet the most familiar thing in the world to him. He knew what stool old man Searcy would be sitting on for his lunch at the café, and he knew who would be serving him his blue-plate special. His stomach growled, emphasizing his lack of lunch. Another ten minutes and he’d be home.

Home.

The word felt good. He’d stay, help his dad around the ranch, work with his back instead of a weapon. He’d welcome every minute of mind-numbing grunt labor. And somehow he’d figure out what to do with the rest of his life.

He raised a finger off the steering wheel, acknowledging those driving past. A friendly custom in north Texas, like tipping your hat. Or at least it used to be. People stared at him and quickly looked away when he caught their eye. He drove through his little town, now full of fast-food restaurants and an outdoor mini shopping mall. He turned off the main road, took the familiar turns and passed the mailbox—faded with one of the letters missing from his father’s name.

Parked on the side of the driveway was a cherry-red Camaro. A car he knew inside and out. The car had always hummed perfection. Mark Miller had won many drag races with that engine. When Mark had left for the army, John had tried to buy it from Mr. Miller many times. He slowed as the driver—obviously waiting on him—opened the door of the car he’d wanted throughout his teenage years. His tires crunched on the gravel as he pulled to a stop.

“Wow.” The word slipped from his brain to his mouth.

“You still haven’t gotten over this car?” the woman said, caressing the hood with long strokes.

Thankfully, she thought he was gawking at the muscle car. The vehicle was a nice backdrop to the curvy medium-height babe with long wavy dark brown hair and eyes hidden behind aviator shades. Dressed in old worn jeans that hugged her hips and a tank top that hugged everything else, he couldn’t focus on the car if he wanted to.

And he really didn’t want to. If he had air-conditioning, he would have cranked it to high. Instead, the sweat beaded on his forehead. He grabbed the button-up shirt he’d tossed on the seat next to him to wipe his face.

“Driving with the windows down? Braving the Texas heat, Johnny? You forget how hot it gets here in July?” the babe asked, crossing the road in worn boots. She slid her glasses to the top of her head, tucking her hair back in the process. Bright smiling eyes laughed at him.

“Alicia?” He recognized her voice, but none of the curves she currently sported.

“Welcome home.” She leaned on the open window, giving him a great view straight between her breasts. A much better view than he’d ever seen in high school.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I was already at the house. Wanda thought she saw Brian in a new car and sent a text asking if he’d come into some cash.” She shrugged her bare, tanned shoulders. “I knew Brian was in the barn. So I assumed and waited.” She stepped back, pulling the door open. “Get out here so I can give you a proper welcome home. It’s been a while.”

Alicia Miller, now Adams. Or had she gone back to Miller after her husband had died? Either way, he barely recognized his high school sweetheart. She’d definitely filled out in all the right places. He popped the seat-belt release and stood, towering over her in a white undershirt that probably smelled as bad as the horse stalls. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. He hugged her back.

Home.

They separated, and the pearly-white smile he expected was gone. He missed her hand swinging upward, until it connected with his cheek. Connected hard. He rubbed it, not ashamed to let her know the slap had stung. Caught off guard by a girl. Or maybe he deserved it. Time enough to contemplate later.

A fitting welcome home.

“Before you ask, that was for your dad. J.W. will never say or do anything to make you feel ashamed, but you deserve that and more for just leaving. It broke his heart.”

The little fireball choked on the last word. But she was right. And he was grown enough now to admit he’d made a mistake by not calling more often. “You’ve seen him? Is he okay?”

“He gets stronger every day. I’m his nurse and help him with physical therapy. That’s what I do, at-home nursing.”

“Just for the record, that’s the one and only time you’ll slap me and get away with it.” He leaned against the rear door, crossing his arms to keep them in check. He didn’t know if he wanted to drive away or reach out and pull her back to fill the emptiness he suddenly experienced.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not even sure why I did that. I never do that. And now I’m just babbling.”

“Really?” Had it been too long to tease her? She’d been a junior in college the last time he’d heard anything. Their lives had changed when he hadn’t chosen that route. Really changed when Brian had taken the blame for the accident. They hadn’t spoken since his twin had accused him of being irresponsible and leaving a campfire burning.

After boot camp, his dad said Brian had decided not to attend college. Brian’s taking public blame for the fire meant John could achieve his dream of entering the navy. It wouldn’t have happened otherwise, and he owed his brother his entire career.

Join the navy. See the world.

It had been his dream, and his brother had pushed him toward it, sacrificing everything to let him keep it. That was the problem. The closest people to him had believed the accusation.

“I should be...” She gestured toward her car. “Your father’s waiting.”

“You said Brian was in the barn?”

“He was earlier.” Alicia stuck her hands into her front pockets, creating a shrug whether she wanted one or not. “Sorry I slapped you, Johnny.”

“I’m sorry you needed to.” He rubbed his cheek again, scraping the three days of growth.

Alicia took a step toward him, awkwardly pulled him down for what he thought was another hug. He didn’t reach for her. Instead, supersoft fingers caressed him from the bottom of his ears down both lines of his jaws. The sting disappeared faster than a radar blip.

Before he could react, she’d kissed his lips, lingering just a second too long for it to be just a friendly welcome home. Then she waved and returned to her car.

“See you around.”

The dust from the road stuck to his arms and face as he stood there like an idiot while she drove away.

“Wow.”

The Double Bar had been around for over a hundred years, supplying its fair share of cutting horses and rodeo stock. Oak trees had towered over the winding gravel driveway, since just after the Civil War. They’d formed a canopy and should have been a sight for his weary eyes. It was normally one of the coolest places on the ranch. The trees stretching above his head looked gnarly. Had anyone trimmed them since he’d left? He had to slow to avoid the potholes. The pasture looked more like West Texas desert than grazing potential for a herd.

“What the hell’s happened?”

Granddad’s old Dodge truck was loaded with feed and supplies. No doubt his work would start this afternoon, no waiting around. The ranch never let you take a vacation. John parked the rental, dropped the tailgate of the truck and slapped a bag.

Wham. Slammed to the ground, he spit dirt from his mouth. A punch to his kidney caused him to tighten his gut and pull his arms tight against his sides. The attacker shuffled off and away. John scrambled to his knees and popped up to both feet.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up now!”

“Brian? What the...” He wiped the dirt from his face just in time to block a punch. His hands automatically formed fists. He resisted throwing his right at the last minute, but his shoulder momentum took him a step closer to his brother. “Cut it out or find yourself on the ground.”

“Yeah, who’s going to put me there? Oh, right, the son who’s been gone twelve years. Think you can take me with all your fancy military training?”

John couldn’t start his return home by teaching Brian a lesson. He relaxed his body enough to appear nonthreatening, but didn’t lose eye contact. Brian would always give his punches away by dropping his gaze to the ground before he swung. Better to avoid being hit than make things worse by hitting back.

“Come on, man, I just got here,” he said. Home for fifteen minutes and already he’d been slapped and eaten a face full of dirt. His lower back didn’t feel all that great, either.

“That’s the point. Dad’s stroke was over a week ago.”

“No excuses. I was on a mission and got here as soon as I could. How is he?”

“Busy saving strangers and can’t be bothered at home.” Brian grabbed a fifty-pound bag of feed, throwing it to his shoulder like a bulky pillow, then stomped toward the shed. “Go see for yourself. Alicia usually leaves him in front of the television.”

Guess it wasn’t the right time to remind his brother he’d called a couple of dozen times in the past two days. John rubbed his side, then his jaw, and dusted some of the dirt from his body. What a welcome.

“Dad?” He pushed the screen door open with the hesitation of entering the unknown. He didn’t know what to expect. Light on his feet, soundlessly moving through the kitchen and sitting room, he was afraid of what he’d find in front of the loud television.

A severe stroke ten days ago when he’d been working horses. That’s all John knew. He’d left messages on his dad’s cell, but no one had called back. His dad kept him up-to-date. Sad, but he didn’t know his brother’s number.

Bad communication skills were nothing new before he’d left for the navy. More bad habits had formed when he’d been in training and not allowed to call. Then long missions with no communication. Different time zones. Easy after that to avoid calling home by just being too busy—or pretending to be. His father had accepted the excuses. His brother had told him never to look back and meant it.

He was a different man. They both were. They had time to fix what was wrong. Later.

Right now it was about his dad—who was asleep in a wheelchair in a room that no longer resembled his mother’s favorite in the house. Full of a hospital bed, pulleys, a portable toilet and other medical stuff, everything familiar had been removed. There was a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall.

He heard the water running in the kitchen behind him and jerked around, surprised Brian had entered without making a sound.

“Dad, wake up.” Brian shoved a shoulder into John as he passed. His angry twin turned a gentle hand to touch their dad’s shoulder and not startle him awake. “John’s home.”

He understood the pain. His brother had a right to be upset, from the serious look of things. He’d been here taking care of the ranch and their dad. Alone.

The last time they’d been face-to-face, they were skinny kids eating their dad out of a ton of groceries. Identical twins who could have passed for each other—and had fooled more than a teacher or two. Not to mention the girls. There were differences now. The most obvious was their hair. His was the navy regulation, high and tight over his ears. Brian’s was longish, touching his collar.

John knew the tense jaw-clenching muscle all too well. Strange seeing what it looked like to others. Their bodies were toned from different types of exercises—his PT and Brian’s ranch work. Weird that they still looked so much alike.

“I got here as soon as I could. I had no idea,” John apologized. He would not complain about the lack of information provided by his brother. It would just upset his dad.

“That’s an understatement,” Brian mumbled.

His dad shook his head. Upset. Brian patted his shoulder. “I know, Dad. I told you I’d explain things when he got here.”

He kept his mouth shut, stunned at the fright he saw in his father’s eyes. The stroke had left him paralyzed. He couldn’t talk. Brian lifted a straw to the left side of his dad’s mouth and patiently waited, that angry gleam still in his eyes when he connected with John.

“Dad had a stroke and was lucky to survive. Recovery’s going to take a while, but he’s doing great.” He put the mug on the table. “Looks like Alicia wore you out as usual, old man. Time for a nap, right?”

Brian moved swiftly. John moved in to help but was waved off. In two shakes, J. W. Sloane was back in bed. Brian maneuvered him quickly and with the same calm ease he handled troubled animals.

“I got this. Go get cleaned up and I’ll get him settled. I’m sure you have things to explain.”

Things hadn’t changed; his brother issued orders for him to follow. And just like every day of his life, he followed orders well. Stowing his gear back in a room that hadn’t changed except for the layers of dust, he wondered if the day would ever come where he’d be deciding his own fate.

Chapter Two

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Mommy! Mommy! Look, I’m a princess.”

Alicia Ann Adams watched her four-year-old daughter run across the playroom, dodging toys and playmates. Her yellow sunflower dress had a purple stain on the front—most likely grape jam from a snack. She lifted her over the gate guard in her day-care room to squeeze her close. “What did you do today?”

“We painted and dressed up. I was a princess and gots to wear the crown all the time.”

“Well, that was appropriate for my very own Princess Lauren. Did you put your toys away?”

“The other girls are still playing with everything, Alicia. Don’t worry about it this time.”

She put Lauren down, dreading the next part of the conversation. “Go pick up a bit, sweetie. I need to talk with Miss Mary.”

“Is something wrong?” asked the woman responsible for her daughter’s daily care.

Mary Fitz had owned and run the day care forever. Alicia had stayed here before starting kindergarten, and had worked here in high school. There was nowhere else she wanted her daughter to stay. Which made not being able to pay Mary all the more difficult.

“I’m afraid tomorrow’s our last day. It isn’t fair to ask you to let Lauren stay when I can’t pay you, Mary.” What was she going to do? She couldn’t take Lauren with her to her clients’ homes, and she had to work.

“Nonsense. I’ve told you before just pay me when you can. I trust you. I know what you’re going through. Working on your own to spend more time with your daughter is admirable, dear. Starting this place wasn’t easy, either. Everyone thought I was a crazy widow. So don’t fret. She’s safe here.” Mary turned back to the children. “Lauren, time to go, sweetheart.”

Alicia was going to cry. She hadn’t been able to think of Dwayne without all the problems he’d left when he’d died four years ago. Leaving her with a newborn and without a will had created chaos in a once-happy life. Those thoughts seemed utterly ridiculous compared to his death. Nevertheless, they were true.

The tears were building, so she pressed the palms of her hands to her closed eyes, attempting to stop the waterworks. Mary had saved her life. Again.

“It won’t be too long. I have to drive a bit farther, but there are two more patients in Sanger.”

“It’s really not a problem, Alicia. I’m glad to help.” She lifted Lauren over the doorway gate. “She had so much fun playing princess today. Such an imagination. Keep the crown, sweetie.”

“Say bye-bye to Miss Mary.” They both waved to one of the nicest people left in their lives. “See you tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t branching out on her own willingly like Mary thought. She’d been forced to resign from the Denton hospital.

After years with a spotless record, her patients’ exit questionnaires were suddenly full of mysterious complaints. Complaints that had all begun at the same time Dwayne’s trust fund was frozen and her mother-in-law sought control.

Coincidence?

And then an anonymous caller said they’d witnessed her selling drugs. Anonymous? Not hardly. It has to be Shauna.

She’d never believed anyone could be that cruel. Especially family. She didn’t want to believe Shauna, her mother-in-law, was responsible for the loss of her job at Denton Regional. But if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have known about Alicia’s dismissal and wouldn’t have filed for custody of Lauren the same day.

Ugh. I certainly wish I wasn’t forced to refer to her as my mother-in-law.

Dwayne had never called Shauna Weber his stepmother. She was the same age and had even gone on a couple of dates with him their junior year. She’d married a man two years younger only four months after Dwayne’s father had died.

Think about the extra time you have with Lauren today.

With only a couple of home clients on her Monday schedule, she should be rejoicing about the light load and playing with her daughter. But a light load meant light money. Next on her list was to speak with her landlord. He’d be upset splitting the rent again, but her paychecks just weren’t large enough for her to get a couple of weeks ahead.

A real shame they couldn’t head straight to the park, but it was 107 degrees outside. Almost as hot in the car, even with the AC on high. Store first, then dinner, then a cooler playtime on the swings before her bath.

It was hard to enjoy anything. She was still shaking. Money—or the lack of it—always got her this way. Then throw in what happened with Johnny and she was a nervous wreck.

How in the world had she ever thought she could welcome him home? She could still feel the sting of that slap on her hands. Feel the strength in his arms around her waist. Feel the tingle down her spine from kissing him.

She glanced in the rearview mirror to watch Lauren playing in her car seat.

It had been a major mistake kissing him. Really kissing him. Add a shot of guilt and disloyalty to her deceased husband, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. If Johnny didn’t know how she felt about his return before—he did now. Well, there was always the possibility he might be as thickheaded as when he’d left. Was he the only thing she could think about?

“Great. Just great. I was not supposed to kiss him. Ugh.”

“Like a princess kisses a frog, Mommy?”

“Just like that, sweetie. Mommy did kiss a frog today, but he didn’t turn into a prince. What do you want for dinner?” Think about the park. And ice cream. Real ice cream from the Creamery. That would be nice. Getting cool. Don’t think about the money or Johnny Sloane.

“Chicken nuggets.”

“You want those every night.” She laughed at the nightly conversation.

It was definitely hard not to think about how great her high school boyfriend had looked. And felt. He’d been a solid rock under her hands. Why it seemed he was taller than Brian, she didn’t understand, but it did. Not once, for as long as she’d known the Sloane brothers, had she been attracted to Brian. They’d never been able to fool her like they had so many of their teachers and friends.

Nope, she could always tell them apart.

She liked how John’s hair was short over his ears, but not cropped completely down to the skin like it had been the last time she’d seen him. He looked fantastic. Strong. Sturdy. Like a man. She’d been thinking about him all day and had to stop.

It was Lauren time.

“I like nuggets. McDonald’s nuggets.” Her daughter giggled again.

Probably the dinner menu on those rare visits alone with a babysitter—without her mother-in-law’s supervision. She turned into the store parking lot.

“How ’bout chicken nuggets from scratch? We have lots of time today, but first a stop at the store.”

It didn’t take long to get down the street to the grocery. She parked by the far basket return, always protecting her father’s Camaro from dings and scratches. “Looks like you’ll get to ride in your favorite play shopping cart. There aren’t too many people here.”

“Can we get real chocolate milk?”

“We have the stuff at home to mix it up.”

“But Grandpa Weber’s gots real chocolate milk straight from the cows,” her daughter whined, sounding just like Shauna. How was that possible at the age of four? And she wasn’t even blood related.

“Honey, it doesn’t come that way.” She was forever correcting the things Shauna’s husband, Patrick, assured Lauren were true.

Alicia went to the passenger side to get Lauren. Cool-looking cars were absolutely not family cars. She pulled down the front seat and removed the shoulder restraints from Lauren, who waved to someone passing by.

“Hi,” Lauren said.

Shoved just as she’d lifted Lauren, they both fell into the car. Her feet were kicked from under her. She couldn’t stand.

“Somebody help!”

Thick material was yanked over her head, smelling like a burlap feed sack. She couldn’t see. The pressure in her back grew sharp, like a knee. It moved to her neck. Someone forced her face into the hot leather. Lauren screamed behind her, kicking her side as she was dragged from the car.

They were taking her baby!

“Stop hurting my mommy,” Lauren screamed.

“What do you want?”

Pushing. Shaking. Choking her from behind. She couldn’t move. Dear Lord in heaven, please send someone to help me.

“Mommy!”

“Shh,” a deep voice said.

Lauren continued a muffled scream.

“Please don’t...don’t hurt her. It’ll be okay, baby.”

“Shut up,” a second gravelly voice whispered close to her ear. Her hands were quickly taped behind her.

“Don’t do this. Please,” she pleaded.

Shoved into the back floorboard, her boots removed, her ankles taped. She heard the lock being pushed down. The door slammed. The windows had been up. The keys were in her pocket. It was a scorching triple-digit day outside, but she was not going to die!

They’d kidnapped her little girl.

She felt the adrenaline rush through her body, but still couldn’t tear the tape from her hands. She closed her eyes from the grain dust and shifted closer to the window. Then kicked and kicked some more. But the bastards had pulled off her boots and left her with only socks. Her heels couldn’t touch the glass, just her toes. It was doubtful she could break the glass, but someone would hear the pounding.

Someone would see her. They’d call the police. They could break the window and get her out. Something. Something fast so they’d find Lauren.

Who could do this? She’d never give up until she found her daughter.

Sweat beaded over her face, making it itch. It was hard to breathe without inhaling the feed dust left in the sack. She choked, coughed, gagged. All the while twisting and using the carpet to slowly work the suffocating material from the bottom part of her face.

Kick. Keep kicking.

Don’t stop.

“Don’t. Give. Up. On me. Baby!”

Kick.

“Help! Can anybody hear me?”

Try to sit up. Impossible. She couldn’t twist enough and was hooked to something. “The seat belt.” They’d taped her hands to the front seat-belt strap.

Kick.

“Help.” The dry, hoarse whisper was all she had left.

The tears wanted to come. They started. But it was so hot in the car she could barely catch her breath. No tears.

Kick.

Kick again.

A customer will bring their cart to the return. Someone would hear her. She just had to keep kicking. Someone would wonder why her dad’s car was here. Wouldn’t they?

Kick. God, let me kick.

Lauren....

Chapter Three

“No witnesses. No physical evidence. No ransom demand. The Amber Alert is still active. But it’s been thirty-two hours since the kidnapping, and we’ve got nothing, Alicia.”

County Sheriff Coleman had escorted her home from the hospital after recovering from heat stroke. Thank heavens someone had seen her through the window after she’d passed out. The excessive heat inside the car could have killed her. She’d hated to call the county sheriff to bring her home, but the press had made it impossible for her to leave unescorted, and the Aubrey police had refused to help.

Now he stood in her humble living/dining room like he had a dozen times in the past four years. Same humble sheriff, just a different house than when he’d notified her Dwayne had died at the scene of his car accident.

“I don’t understand. We both know the only person who could be behind this is Shauna. She’s publicly threatened to take Lauren from me.” Her husband’s stepmother had put on a good distraught act for the television cameras, but Alicia knew the truth.

Knew the Webers wanted her little girl’s trust fund. Knew in her heart they were involved with the abduction. The gleam of dollar signs in their eyes proved it to her over and over again.

“Why can’t anyone see past the fake tears she has only when the press is around?” There was something else just behind Shauna’s heavy-lidded eyes. Gloating. The same look she’d had when they’d successfully frozen all of Dwayne’s assets.

“Lauren isn’t at the ranch or the Frisco house, where Shauna lives now. We’ve checked. We’ve followed Weber. We’ve searched every property remotely associated with either of them.” The sheriff shook his head as he had each time he’d told her the same results while she’d been in the hospital.

“What about the FBI? Did you contact the Texas Rangers like you said? Or are you telling me to give up?” She wouldn’t.

“I’m telling you I won’t stop looking, but there’s little I can do. The rangers are on watch and are conducting the investigation. They feel like this is a domestic dispute and haven’t called in the FBI yet.”

“Did Shauna stop them? Does everyone believe her and the lies she’s telling the press? I did not kidnap my daughter for her trust fund.” Vultures.

He hung his head, letting her assume it was true.

“It might be time for a private investigator,” he said.

“I checked into them yesterday from the hospital. They all want a lot more money than I have access to. And they want it up front before they’ll even begin.” She went to the window to see if any cameras were still parked out front. None. “Shauna says she’s hiring her own and swears if they find her, she’ll take her away. Isn’t that grounds for a search warrant or something? You’ve searched here based on the accusations of the press.”

“Now, Alicia, that’s not why the task force looked around and you know it. Shauna invited us to search all the property without a warrant.”

“You know that in the media, I’ve already been found guilty of kidnapping my own daughter, but I’m not sure how I did it. I think of all the times I judged those mothers being crucified by the news stations. You never hear about them being found innocent. But I’ll take the blame, Sheriff. I’ll let them call me whatever they want to get Lauren home safely.”

If she wasn’t so tired, she’d pace the carpet. Sitting and waiting was driving her crazy. Too exhausted to stand any longer, she fell into the chair and couldn’t stop the tears.

Lauren was gone and there was no one to find her. The light pat on her back reminded her that the sheriff was politely waiting.

“Alicia, you know that wasn’t me. I don’t think you’re using Lauren for publicity.”

“I don’t know what to do, Ralph.” She needed to pull herself together one more time so he could leave. “Sorry I had to call you again, but I couldn’t get out of the hospital door with those vultures wanting a statement.”

The press had hounded her, comparing her to a desperate, unstable woman. Implying she’d kidnapped her own little girl for the ransom. The local newspaper had made the first insinuations in their weekly editorial. Reporting that she was broke, unable to pay her bills because she was in the process of suing her sweet mother-in-law for Lauren’s trust fund.

“It’s all so stupid crazy, Ralph. If anyone is hungry for cash, it’s Shauna. Everyone knows she married Dwayne’s dad for the money. Goodness, she was the same age as her stepson. She hated me in high school and especially hated me after I married Dwayne. Even more after Roy left everything in a trust to Lauren.”

Another slow, awkward pat.

Pull it together.

“You should go. I’m fine. Really,” she finally managed.

“Lock the doors, Alicia. I don’t think it’s safe.”

She nodded, but if the kidnappers had wanted to kill her, it would have been much easier when they’d taken her baby. As it was, they were successfully framing her for their actions.

“I mean it, girl. They may be back to finish what they started. You could have died from being locked in that car.”

“I’m fine.” She feared her own neighbors more. That people she’d known all her life might take a mob mentality and throw bricks through her windows. Hadn’t that happened to a mother of another kidnapped little girl?

“As long as you stay inside, you’ll be fine.” He patted her shoulder again, following with a little squeeze before heading to the door. “Lauren will be fine, too. We’ll find her. I promise you that.”

“Without any idea where she’s been taken? Who’s really looking?”

He dipped his head again, raised his hat to his head and stood on the outside of the screen, tapping the doorknob.

Alone. No one to hold on to.

Alicia dropped her face into her hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Find someone without connections to the Webers,” he said through the glass, still waiting and pointing until she locked the door.

The silence was deafening after his car pulled away. How many nights over the past three and a half years had she begged for a moment alone? With no responsibility? Each moment spent away from Lauren, she’d been working doubles at the hospital. And now? Just one sweet giggle asking for another drink of water. That was all she wanted to hear.

She wiped more tears and stood straight. What she needed was money. Shauna had Lauren hidden somewhere. She watched the sheriff drive away and turned the dead bolt. Money would help her find her daughter.

She had to break her promise and sell her dad’s Camaro. There was one person who might want it just as badly as she did.

Johnny.

* * *

“YOU CAN’T AVOID this forever. I’ve already given him his meds. Next round is written on the schedule. He needs his exercises after lunch.” Brian grabbed his gym bag off the back porch and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

“Where are you headed?” John asked, letting the screen slam behind him. He wanted Brian to answer the question instead of ignoring him like he had since he’d returned. Other than instructions about their dad, Brian hadn’t said anything except “pass the butter,” at breakfast. John’s brother worked from sunup till past midnight every day, breaking only for meals and to take care of their dad.

And now he was taking off to go to “work” for four days?

“All you need to know is written down. Since Alicia can’t be here, call Mabel if you need something.”

“Shouldn’t we hire another nurse or a proper physical therapist?” His brother’s announcement last night that it was John’s turn to take care of their dad had thrown him for a loop. He had no training for this sort of duty.

Helping his father—other than in and out of the wheelchair—wasn’t like facing down the enemy. But for some reason making a mistake scared him to death.

“I won’t do that to Alicia. And neither will you.” Brian shook his head, adding to the disgust already plain on his face. “Truth is, we can’t afford it. Dad doesn’t have insurance. Alicia’s been coming by without payment until I get some cash. She insisted. I’ll pay her eventually, but I have to sell one of the mares. I’ve been having problems, since she’s in Dad’s name.”

“I can pay. How much do you need?”

“Keep your money.”

“It’s for Dad,” John said, stopping before he spouted what he really thought about his brother’s pride.

Things were a lot worse than John had imagined, but even then, his brother’s loyalty to Alicia wasn’t a battle he was willing to wage. Stick to Brian’s plan and negotiate peace when the time is right.

“Four days. Then we’ll suffer through a discussion,” Brian grudgingly mumbled.

The ranch and his dad were a different story. Brian couldn’t keep him from looking at the financials while he was gone to “work.”

“I’m not sure of what to do with Dad.”

“There’s a list of exercises on the stand next to his bed. It will give you a chance to talk to him without me around. You can complain all you want.” Brian shoved his hair off his face and pulled an old beat-up straw hat onto his head. “Mabel said she’s glad to help with Dad and is five minutes across the road.”

“I remember where Mrs. Standridge lives. Why are you wearing Dad’s hat?” His brother shot him a look and stuffed the hat harder on his head. “You could drive the rental to wherever you’re headed. I don’t have to return it for another couple of days.”

“Now, why would I want to do that?” He tossed his gym bag into the front of the truck and climbed in. “Don’t call her unless you really need to impose.”

“Don’t impose. Right,” John mumbled to a trail of dust mixed with gas fumes. “Four days without a freaking clue. Is that a reason to impose?”

Talking to his brother was more difficult than facing a terrorist. Brian was right about one thing—speaking to his dad had always been easy. But that was a long time ago, before two-minute conversations or voice-mail tag had become their routine. Long before his dad had such a hard, frustrating time just communicating that he wanted a sip of water. Maybe he could talk about some of his war stories? His dad might enjoy those.

But storytelling would have to wait until he’d checked forty sets of hooves. Made certain the rest of the herd was moved to the front pasture—what was left of it—and had plenty of water. Checked the fence line, which meant saddling an unfamiliar horse and riding for the first time in twelve years. In between the three-page to-do list, he was supposed to check on his father every half hour.

How had Brian kept up with the work four hired men had accomplished while they’d been growing up? And why had he left with only a small bag for four days?

Well, if Brian could do it, he could do it. He wanted to do it. If he could handle hotheaded naval aviators, he could handle some chores he’d done most of his childhood.

Piece of cake.

Chapter Four

He couldn’t do it.

Saddle sore, John wanted to drop in a chair, turn on a mind-numbing rerun of an old television show and drink a beer. If he’d been in San Diego, that was exactly what he would be doing. Or hitting the beach.

Of course, if he’d been at home in front of his TV, he wouldn’t be frustrated at not completing any task on Brian’s list. He’d consistently been aware of each minute slithering by. The stops and starts of checking on his dad had disrupted each job he’d begun. As a result, he hadn’t finished anything.

After a couple of hours he’d admitted he was out of his element. He’d run and trained almost every day since leaving home, but every part of him was sore in a different way. By lunch he’d called Mrs. Standridge. He wasn’t ashamed to ask for help. He was used to teamwork, admitting his shortcomings and working to improve.

As soon as she’d arrived, he’d seen the look in his dad’s eyes change. Brian could have been a little more specific that their father was embarrassed for anyone to see him. Mable had let him know a couple of hours ago she’d fed his dad breakfast for a late lunch, something J.W. could eat almost on his own. J.W. clearly didn’t want her in the house, but there wasn’t a choice. They needed help.

The excruciating one-hundred-plus temperature had climbed along with the sun. By the heat of the afternoon, it had hit 109. Might just make it down to ninety-eight later that night. Finally some relief. Ha! He hadn’t experienced a Texas summer since his teens. He’d like to see Brian survive after being dropped in the middle of a desert, dressed in full gear. He missed the ocean breeze and his run along the beach in California.

Different life. Time to concentrate on this one and see if Brian would allow him to return home more often. Yeah, he was seeking permission from his brother.

Which meant getting inside and tackling more things on the list. But first, he needed to get some of the sweat off him. One bathroom meant no shower until Mabel left. He crossed to the watering trough he’d just filled, pulled his shirt off and stuck his head under. The water cooled him like the shock of jumping in the Pacific.

He shook his head and swiped his hand over his face to sluice the water off before he headed to the house. The distinct hum of his favorite Camaro pulled behind him and stopped.

The last person he’d expected to see was Alicia. When he turned, there she was, one hand gripping the steering wheel, one hand gripping her cell. She didn’t make a move to get out of the car. According to the news he’d just heard, her kid was still missing. Why was she here?

Lost. He’d seen that look before.

The petrified stare of someone who had no options.

“Alicia?” He opened the car door, reached across and turned the engine off then leaned on the roof. “Hey, you okay?”

“No.”

A whisper of desperation. Tears trickling from swollen eyes. She barely resembled the confident woman who’d met him in the driveway.

“They can’t find her and...”

“I want to help, but I’m not certain what I can do.”

He could see her trying to keep control by blowing air through her puffed cheeks. It wasn’t working. Again, out of his element. Should he get her out of the car and take her inside or bring Mabel out here?

“They— I thought— I have to sell the car, but he just called....” She shook her head. Tears streamed from her red-rimmed eyes. “They’ve arrested him.”

“Who? Did they find your daughter?”

“No. It was— Brian just called.”

“Is Brian buying the car? He’s not here.” He should get Mabel. Maybe she could understand and tell him what this was all about.

Alicia turned to him, took a deep breath before she made eye contact. “They arrested Brian for Lauren’s kidnapping.”

* * *

ALICIA LOOKED AROUND the faded yellow kitchen in the Sloane house. She’d spent lots of summer days with the twins’ mother here. Waiting on fresh lemonade or homemade peanut-butter cookies. More recently, she’d spent time cooking simple meals for J.W. and Lauren while Brian handled ranch stuff.

Or at least she’d thought he’d been handling ranch stuff.

Of course he was. Don’t start doubting him. He’s not the kidnapper or a drug dealer like half the town thinks. Shauna’s behind the kidnapping. You just have to prove she’s guilty.

“Here you go, dear. I have dinner for you both whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Mabel. I’m not really hungry.” Alicia took a cool wet cloth and placed it over her eyes. She was so tired of thinking. So tired of trying to decide how or where to start.

“Did you find out anything?” John asked.

“Well, that silly receptionist or whoever they have answering the phones said they won’t let anyone talk to Brian until after he’s been formally charged.” Mabel continued to move around the kitchen as she spoke. “I wanted to send Dave Krueger over for representation, but they told her Brian didn’t want a lawyer and then mentioned your brother was being cheap and stubborn.”

“I can’t believe Brian refused a lawyer or that the situation has spun out of control so rapidly.” Cheap and stubborn. She totally understood those two words. She heard Johnny grunt from the doorway. “Did they arrest him based on an anonymous tip?”

“That’s why they initially pulled him over. Then they found Lauren’s toys behind the seat,” Mabel said, patting her shoulder once and moving away.

Alicia used her palms to keep the cloth in place. Her eyes were swollen and burning from the constant crying. “We told her not to play in the truck. This is all my fault he’s in jail.”

“No, dear, it’s not,” Mabel said. “And tomorrow morning he’ll be charged or free. I’ll make certain he has a good lawyer whether he wants one or not.”

“I’m so glad you’re here for J.W.,” she told Mabel, removing the cool cloth and feeling calmer just sitting at the old dining table. Her insides still shook, but she could talk rationally again. The anxiety wouldn’t leave until Lauren was back safe and sound.

“I am, too.” John’s deep voice rumbled softly through the room. “Thanks for calling the police station. I moved Dad back to bed. I’d like to see Brian ASAP. Can you stay? I hate to ask, but I’ll probably need to be gone tomorrow as well if he’s not released.”

“Not a problem.” Mabel folded the kitchen towel and laid it on the dish drain. “Let me run home and feed the dog. I believe the jail opens at eight in the morning. I’m an early riser but I don’t think you’d want me at five, so I’ll come at seven-thirty. Be right back.”

Alicia replaced the washcloth against her face while Mabel gently shut the door and left. Hot air from outside drifted across the room. She didn’t know how to look at this man. Or how to talk to him. Or how to apologize or explain her behavior. So much had happened since he’d left home, and he seemed to be clueless.

Where did she begin?

By looking at him.

She wiped her face one last time and set the cloth aside. He’d put a shirt on. His hair was still wet, but she’d heard the shower while Mabel had washed dishes.

“You doing okay?” John asked.

She watched by peeking through her fingers as he turned one of the old metal dining chairs away from the table, sat and leaned across the back.

“Brian sits exactly like that. But I’d never think you were him.”

John’s bland expression subtly switched to annoyance as he tapped the table. Easily spotted on a man who didn’t really show much emotion.

“You and Brian a thing now?”

“No. It’s not anything like that.”

“Why don’t you explain just how it is? If you’re up to it.” John didn’t move. He was tall enough that when he sat in a chair he still seemed to tower over her. “You should probably start with why the police booked him for your daughter’s kidnapping and why the first person he told was you.”

“Shauna’s responsible for the anonymous tip. I’m certain she’s trying to frame Brian and me. Sheriff Coleman thinks so, too, even though he can’t say that to anyone else.”

“Did he say it to you?” John remained steady, his arms crossed over the top of the chair. His eyes constantly moved between her and his dad.

“No. But he didn’t disagree when I said it. You need to take care of Brian. I just came to see if you wanted to buy the car.”

“Shauna who? And why do you need money?”

“Shauna Weber was Dwayne’s stepmother and the reason my accounts are frozen.”

“Why would his stepmother freeze your assets?”

“Because she’s a money-hungry bi— Sorry, I can’t talk rationally about her. Look, Johnny, can you buy the car? I need money for a private investigator. It’s the only way I’ll ever find Lauren before Shauna pretends to find her and takes her away from me.”

“That’s quite an assumption, Alicia.”

“I’m not assuming anything.” Shoving the chair backward, it hit the kitchen wall. She was losing it. She forced herself to sit and take cleansing breaths before she babbled again. She couldn’t look at him to see what he thought of her outburst and couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t lecturing her, like anyone else she’d tried to confide in. “It’s the only explanation. Shauna has frozen Dwayne’s assets, including Lauren’s trust fund, and I...I just need the cash for the car. If you still want it, that is. Then I can get out of your hair.”

“You mean the court froze everything,” he corrected.

“Shauna took me to court. As if she has a right to any of that money. It belongs to my daughter. I hate having to use it, but it was our only support while the will was being contested. Now there’s nothing except a few home-care clients who stuck with me.”

Would he remember the same friendship they’d had as kids? Be sympathetic enough to give her more than the car’s estimated value? She gathered her courage to make eye contact with him. But his gaze was toward the living area and his father.

“The house wasn’t built for wheelchair access.” She attempted to draw his attention again. “Brian set J.W.’s bed there so he could work here at the table and still see him.”

“Back to Brian’s arrest,” he said, lowering his voice. “Why my brother? If you’re just friends, what does he have to do with your daughter?”

“Shauna and Patrick Weber have made several accusations that we’re having an affair. That we kidnapped Lauren for ransom.”

“We. Meaning you and Brian. But there hasn’t been a ransom note.”

“One showed up last night at the Weber show barns. They tried to blame me, but didn’t know I had a solid alibi. The sheriff was at my house. So they immediately accused Brian of working with me.”

“That’s ridiculous. He was out with the horses until after dark.”

“The note was left at their stables that back up to your property line.”

“You mean Pat Weber owns old man Adams’s stables? He used to work there.”

“Shauna married him four months after Dwayne’s father died. If that doesn’t prove she just wanted the money, I don’t know what does. Marrying Roy Adams was another way she could get close to Dwayne after high school. With both of them gone, she’s selling off everything.”

“Wait. Are you talking about Shauna Tipton, the cheerleader a couple of years older than us? Didn’t she date Dwayne? This sounds like a damn soap opera.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been living this nightmare for years. Brian’s a good man. Shauna will use anything that can be taken out of context.”

“Right. I still don’t see why the police would arrest my brother. If there’s nothing between you guys, how did they connect Brian to the kidnapping?”

“I’ve always been his friend and I stayed here with J.W. while Brian worked his four-day shift in Fort Worth last week.”

“Shift?”

“He’s a paramedic. Wasn’t that where he was headed this morning when they arrested him?”

“He didn’t mention where he was headed. Just that he’d be gone four days.”

Spoken just like his brother. Same attitude, tone, inflection. If they tried to fool people, not many would be able to tell them apart. But she could. She also recognized the stubbornness that kept them from speaking to each other after Johnny left for the navy.

“I’m not reprising the role of mediator between you two. You can talk to him at the police station.”

He nodded once. Curt, not rude. Just like he accepted her words and there was no need for any more. “That still doesn’t explain why they’d think Brian kidnapped your daughter.”

“Lauren. Her name is Lauren, and I want her home. She needs to be home with me.” Fear blocked the last words, cutting them short.

“Do you know why they’re assuming he took Lauren, tried to kill you and then just hung around the ranch until he was arrested?” He’d raised his voice just a tad and looked toward J.W., who still appeared to be sleeping far enough away not to hear the conversation. “It isn’t a logical plan of attack and would mean that you involved a third person to hide Lauren somewhere. It doesn’t make sense.”

“They don’t need a reason. There are townspeople who have been trying to send him to jail for twelve years.”

John’s brows drew together. He shook his head, compressed his lips and appeared genuinely confused.

“You don’t know? You’re Brian’s twin and you’re telling me you don’t know what happened after you left?”

“Would I be asking if I did?” He sounded very annoyed.

Technically, he hadn’t asked, but she saw the visible tick in his jaw muscle. He was obviously upset. She could barely believe her two best friends had grown so far apart. Identical twins who had shared secrets and pranks all through school.

“Brian admitted to starting the fire that killed Mrs. Cook.”

“I know. He thought I caused the accident and took the blame.”

There was some emotion Johnny couldn’t hide. He stiffened and blinked his eyes a smidgen too long. They’d both changed over twelve years, but some things never would. The man sitting with her was just as hurt as the eighteen-year-old boy had been when his brother had believed the lies spread about the fire.

“They’ve never forgiven him.”

“Who?” He looked genuine asking his question, like he really didn’t have a clue.

“Everybody. Other than the sheriff, Mabel and me, no one talks to him. Ever. No one ever told you why he didn’t go to A&M?”

“I assumed he changed his mind. Neither of us were good in school.”

“But you knew he lost his scholarship, right?”

John’s poker face melted.

“Your dad never said anything?”

“He didn’t talk too much about Brian.” John dropped his gaze to the tabletop.

“In other words, you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to hear.”

“I’m listening now.”

“The town was upset about Mrs. Cook’s death. It didn’t matter that it was an accident. They wanted Brian punished. So there were outcries and editorials demanding consequences. Teachers withdrew their letters of recommendations.”

“They could do that?” he asked in a hurt whisper.

“The university suddenly didn’t have a full scholarship. They reduced it to about a thousand dollars. He couldn’t finance the rest.”

Disbelief, astonishment, anger—a ton of emotion took charge and marched across his face. “You can count on my help. Whatever it takes. We’ll find your daughter and clear Brian.”

“I don’t know what you can do, John. The police and rangers have an Amber Alert. No one saw anything, no clues, no prints, no way to find her. It’s like she just disappeared.”

Alicia saw his fists tighten, ready to do battle to defend his family. It had been a while since she’d felt someone was completely on her side.

“I can help. Trust me.”

The harsh tightness across his face softened. His hand took hers and she saw a glimpse of a friend. It had been a while since she’d depended on anyone. She nodded, realizing that trusting him was second nature. She’d run to the Double Bar because he was home.

Chapter Five

“Tell me what happened after I left and what we’re up against.” John paced the kitchen, keeping his dad’s napping form in his peripheral vision. He didn’t want him upset.

After the first couple of stories, John barely listened to Alicia’s recounting of how the town had treated Brian. He was still stuck on his brother’s arrest. Instead of calling a lawyer, Brian had phoned Alicia.

What was up with that? Was it his way of keeping his family informed without talking to John? Warning Alicia? She thought they were being framed. “Do the police know who Brian called?”

“I’m not sure.” She looked as confused as he felt.

Cute and confused, with that worry line emphasized between her brows. Now wasn’t the time for an attraction, and neither was the future. Alicia claimed there was nothing between her and Brian, and she thought they were only friends. They were clearly closer than either wanted to admit. They always had been.

“What did Brian say, exactly?”

She put her fingertips to her temples, concentrating. “They pulled him over, found Lauren’s bear and crown behind his seat—the one I said she had with her when they...when they took her. The Aubrey police would be coming to the house to talk to me.”

“You sort of buried the lead, Alicia. I think Brian called to warn you not to go home.”

“Do you think they left something at my house?” She shook her head and her long hair fell forward, covering her face. “The media has already taken Shauna’s side and is insinuating that I arranged for Lauren’s kidnapping to get the ransom money. Do you believe they’re going to arrest me? I haven’t done anything.”

He didn’t have time to be sensitive, so blunt would have to work. “If Shauna’s gone to the trouble to frame you for faking a kidnapping, don’t you think they’d plant evidence to implicate you?” He let that info take root. “You’ve got two choices. Turn yourself in and hope it can all be sorted out legally.”

She looked up, eyes wide with fright. “If I’m in jail, no one will be looking for Lauren.”

John didn’t correct her. Everyone had looked for her daughter. To clear Brian, he would do more than just look. He’d find her. “Then hide.”

“How can I hide? I don’t have any money and I can’t go anywhere. Dad’s car is fairly easy to spot.”

“I can help with that.” He stood, glancing to the living room to verify his dad was still asleep. When he turned back, she stood touching distance in front of him. But she didn’t reach out, and neither did he.

“Johnny, I can’t ask you to help more than just buying the car. Your dad needs you.”

“Don’t bother, Alicia. You need my help. More important, the only way to clear Brian is to find your daughter. And I need you to make that happen.”

“Thanks isn’t enough.” She launched herself and hugged him. “What should I do?”

John awkwardly set her away, not trusting himself to hold her close. The next few days were going to be hard enough. “We’ll put your car in the shed, and if they look, I’ll tell them you sold it to me.”

“What’s next?” She removed the key ring from her pocket, clutching it like a lifeline.

“Do you have a smartphone?”

“Yes.”

“Book yourself on the next flight to San Antonio. Don’t browse anything out of state. If the FBI’s not involved yet, we want to keep the search for you in Texas. When you’re done, take the battery out and leave it in Dad’s things. Someplace you’d normally have access when you check on him.”

“You want them to think I’m running. They won’t believe it. They know I wouldn’t go anywhere without Lauren.”

“Did you think you’d be set up for her kidnapping?” He could see she was terrified. Her daughter had been abducted. Even if she was certain of who took her, there was still a deep fear of making a mistake. Doubt that she could be wrong.

It happened to him on every mission. Especially the ones that cost a man’s life. Questioning your decisions would drive you insane. So you couldn’t question. Someone like Alicia needed someone to help make those decisions. As long as he was around to take the blame, she wouldn’t have to question if she did the right thing.

“And what if they release Brian or if asking me questions would help them find where Lauren is?”

“I don’t know if they have enough evidence to hold Brian. They might release him, watch who he contacts, hoping they’re right and that he’ll lead them to the person holding your daughter. But more important, I need you with me to find Lauren.”

“You really think this is the best way? Running?”

“Hiding. Staying under wraps until we gather all the facts and know who’s involved. There are a lot of places to disappear on the ranch tonight. I’ll get you somewhere safer tomorrow.”

“Where?” The word was muffled in defeat as she covered her mouth with slim fingers.

“Adams’s property tonight. Brian and I played there all the time. They won’t think you’re arrogant enough to hide right under their noses.”

“Johnny.” She gently took his arm before he could walk past her. “What happens if they find me?”

He sank into the bluest eyes he could remember. A face that he’d tried his best to let go. She’d never lied to him, always had faith in him. He was the one who’d turned his back on her, not trusting.

“Believe me, they won’t. I know what I’m doing. I’ve hidden in a lot places worse than Aubrey, Texas. No one finds me when I dig in.”

He reached for his cell, dialing the number Mabel had written on the notepad stuck to the fridge. “It’s John. Change of plans—can you pack a bag and come stay with Dad overnight? Thanks.”

“Brian called to warn me. Did he keep you out of the loop on purpose? No one knows you’re here, do they?” Alicia asked once he’d hung up.

“That’s our ace in the hole. They’ll all be watching Brian and they think you’re alone. I won’t lie to you, Alicia. It’s going to get rough, and plenty of people are going to say worse things than the accusations on television.”

He glanced over his shoulder into the living room. His dad looked straight at him, smiling, and gave him a thumbs-up. If there had been doubts about leaving his dad to help Alicia before, there weren’t any longer.

“I want my daughter back and I’m willing to do anything to make that happen. I trust you, Johnny.”

“Good.”

The real question was if he could trust himself.

Chapter Six

“Where’s my mommy?” the kid asked for the hundredth time since she’d been hauled here kicking and screaming.

Tory had been sure they’d be caught before leaving Aubrey. But the dark windows and loud speakers of her ex’s car had covered their escape and the kid’s screaming. Then country back roads had hidden them again.

Lauren had cried until they’d convinced her of the lie. Part of the cover-up. Part of Patrick’s brilliant plan. Part of their attempt to never be caught. Tell the kid her mother was testing her and would “rescue” her after they finished the game. It was no big deal. She could pretend she was on an adventure.

“Can’t you make that kid shut up?” Her ex-boyfriend charged toward the little girl, but Tory stepped between them to calm him down. He turned and threw himself on the tattered cushions of the broken-down couch.

“What do you want me to do? You know if we hurt her we don’t get paid.” She should never have told Patrick that she’d help. And should have never have gone back to her ex to assist her pulling off this stupid plan. The bum always thought he was the boss, and he had the muscles to convince you. “Go back in the bedroom, honey, and play with your new toys.”

“But can’t I have a drink?” the kid asked. “When’s this game going to be over?”

“Later, sweetheart.” Tory scooted her inside the room and flipped the newly installed bolt to keep her there.

She passed too close and her ex’s thick hand wrapped around her wrist. The same one he’d fractured last spring. It still hurt if she twisted it the wrong way and especially hurt when she tried to pull free. The bastard knew that. She’d yelped loud enough the first couple of times he’d grabbed her like this.

“The news thinks that kid’s mother snatched her for the money.”

“It’s working just like I said it would,” she agreed, hoping he’d let go before she cried from his tight grip.

“So I’ve been rethinkin’ our arrangement. We can get more money. That idiot Weber is loaded.”

“I’m not so sure. Seems kinda dicey.” How would she explain this to Patrick?

“What can he do to us if we demand more? It’s not like he can waltz to the police or his wife and tell them everything. This is a sure bet. We’re in charge and he has to do what we say.”

“I don’t know if we should. My way seems like it’s safer. We take the money and the mom takes the blame.” She had to convince him to stay with the original agreement. She wasn’t risking everything for half the pittance he thought they’d agreed to last week. She’d follow the plan, take all the money, leave this blustering jackass hanging and run off with Patrick.

“My way, we get lots more dough. I’ve seen them do this on TV lots of times.”

He wanted to be in charge. How could she make it his plan? Her wrist was aching but she didn’t pull away. She cozied up to the slime bucket, giving him full view of the extra cleavage in the tight shirt Patrick couldn’t resist. “Don’t they always get caught on TV?”

“Only if they leave DNA or somethin’, and we’re in the clear. That stupid Weber left his prints and gave us the bear to plant. We used gloves.”

“But, honey.” She tried to sound sweet in spite of the shooting pain in her arm. “You know I already took the ransom note you worked so hard on.”

“We can make another.”

Patrick had instructed them to let Lauren cut and glue the letters together. It had taken a long time, but only the kid’s prints were on the paper. That one little thing had taken a four-year-old two solid mornings and afternoons to put together. Small pieces of paper needed to be thrown away and it had been her idea to leave them at Alicia’s house. The scissors, magazines and scraps had been left on the kid’s play table in Lauren’s very own bedroom.

“Getting the kid to do it again will take a couple of more days,” she said sweetly.

The lummox heaved her to his sweaty chest. Tory couldn’t deny he had a great body. And wasn’t bad to look at. That was why she’d been with him so long. If he could just control his mean streak and stop stinkin’ like horses, she wouldn’t mind getting together with him while she waited for all this to be over. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked backward. His hot breath landed between her breasts as she landed on his lap.

She knew what would come. She’d told Patrick, practically begged him to let her ask someone else. This was their best option, he’d explained. No one would look too closely if her ex moved back in, but they’d ask lots of questions if it was a stranger. Especially a stranger who moved in at the same time the kid disappeared.

So this way was smarter, and Patrick couldn’t get mad if the inevitable happened. She’d let her ex have his way. Keep him happy and hopefully get him to forget about changing the plan. With any luck, he wouldn’t knock her around too much in the process.

Tory bit her lip and held her breath, preparing herself. Three more days and she’d be flying first-class to Paris with Patrick. Her imagination drifted, picturing another lover, more skilled, gentler. She fell backward, dropping to the floor when suddenly released.

“What did I do?”

“You don’t ever do nothin’.” He shoved off the couch, kicking out with his boot.

Tory saw the red-faced rage burst from her partner and covered her face, prepared for the mean left punch she’d received many, many times. It didn’t come. She timidly stood, uncertain what would happen. She’d never seen him like this. A backhand to the side of her cheek spun her across the arm of the couch.

“Get out of here before I really show you what I think,” he bellowed.

Tory ran to the kid’s door, twisted the bolt and darted inside. She’d been frightened of the jerk before, but never like this. That anger she’d seen ripped into his heart—if he still had one.

The bastard who exploded wasn’t her ex-boyfriend. He was worse. She didn’t know what he’d become or what drugs he was doing now, but he’d turned into an angry striking machine.

She shrank to the floor, leaning against the thin wall, her mind whirling with ways to get out of this mess. She couldn’t go back out there and pretend to like that monster.

Three more days. Could she do this for even one?

For Paris? For Patrick? She could do it for him. She would do it for a million dollars. But now she had to come up with a story about her face. She was certain it would be black-and-blue when she went to work the next day. She needed to pretend everything was normal and not give the police any reason to question her.

A cool little hand soothed her hot cheek. “Are you okay, Tory? Your face is sunburned.”

“Yeah. Just a little scared. I’m going to sleep in here tonight.”

“Are you scared of the big man, too? He yells loud like Grandma Weber.” Her small four-year-old hand covered her mouth. “Oops. She yells more when I call her Grandma.”

Lauren’s embarrassed giggle was sweet, but not enough to make Tory forget who’d just hit her into the next county.

Nothing in the room would slide in front of the door. Nothing to use for protection. Just a mattress on the floor and plastic blocks in the corner. Tory heard determined footsteps heading their direction. She braced herself against the thin door.

Silence.

Click.

The bastard had locked her in with their prisoner, and her cell was in her purse in the kitchen.

“I’ll take care of the money arrangements, Tory. You manage the runt,” he shouted through the wood. “And you ain’t going to work no more. I ain’t no babysitter.”

She allowed Lauren to crawl in her lap, hugging the little girl close. This wasn’t the plan.

Lauren tugged on Tory’s shirtfront to get her attention. “How long is Mommy going to be gone? I don’t like it here.”

“Me neither, sweetie. Me neither.”

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