A surprise son and a deadly secret...

The heart-stopping conclusion to Callahan Confidential

It’s a shock to private investigator Mike Callahan to see Shayla O’Hare again, and with a child in tow—especially with shots flying her way. Protecting the pair must take priority over their tangled past. Is she being targeted for her family’s crimes—including possibly killing Mike’s father? And what will Mike do when he realizes her son…is actually his son, too?

LAURA SCOTT is a nurse by day and an author by night. She has always loved romance, and read faith-based books by Grace Livingston Hill in her teenage years. She’s thrilled to have published over twelve books for Love Inspired Suspense. She has two adult children and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband of thirty years. Please visit Laura at laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.

Also By Laura Scott

Love Inspired Suspense

Callahan Confidential

Shielding His Christmas Witness

The Only Witness

Christmas Amnesia

Shattered Lullaby

Primary Suspect

Protecting His Secret Son

Military K-9 Unit

Battle Tested

Classified K-9 Unit

Sheriff

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Protecting His Secret Son

Laura Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09488-7

PROTECTING HIS SECRET SON

© 2019 Laura Iding

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“I would have helped with Brodie.” The words shot out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Shayla shifted in her seat to face him. “You accused my father and brother of being criminals, remember?”

Mike couldn’t deny it.

More miles passed before he spoke again. “I want to be a part of Brodie’s life.”

Shayla let out a harsh laugh. “I’m sure you do. However, has it occurred to you that the two people you’re accusing of being criminals are Brodie’s uncle and grandfather?”

A hard lump formed in the back of his throat, making it impossible to speak. She was right—he hadn’t considered that fact, yet he couldn’t let go of what he knew in his heart was true. Duncan and Ian were involved in his father’s murder and needed to be brought to justice.

No matter the consequences? His resolve wavered. He couldn’t lose his son.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Shayla said in a weary tone.

He knew he needed to tread lightly. Alienating Shayla wouldn’t help his goal of being involved in Brodie’s life.

Dear Reader,

Protecting His Secret Son is the sixth and last book in my Callahan Confidential series. I know you have been waiting for Mike’s story and, as you expected, I was thrilled to finally solve Max Callahan’s murder.

I hope you enjoyed Mike and Shayla’s story. Many of you have reached out asking about Hawk’s story, so I’m hoping to write his book very soon. I love hearing from my readers. If you’re interested in contacting me or signing up for my newsletter, please visit my website at www.laurascottbooks.com. I’m also on Facebook at Laura Scott Books Author and on Twitter @laurascottbooks.

Yours in faith,

Laura Scott

Lead me in thy truth, and teach me: for thou art the God of my salvation; on thee do I wait all the day.

—Psalms 25:5

This book is dedicated to my son, Jonathan Iding, who has followed in my footsteps to become a registered nurse. I’m so proud of you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Private investigator Mike Callahan scrunched down in the driver’s seat of his black SUV and watched the front door of Duncan O’Hare’s house through the open driver’s-side window. He was parked in the driveway next door, knowing the young couple was out of town for the weekend. Duncan O’Hare was a Milwaukee cop, but Mike didn’t believe the guy was dedicated to upholding the law.

Quite the opposite.

However, witnessing a meeting between Duncan O’Hare and Lane Walters, believed leader of the Dark Knights, two days ago outside an apartment building owned by Walters, wasn’t enough. He needed proof to back up his suspicions. Mike had tailed Duncan, but the cop had managed to evade him.

On a mission to solve his father Max Callahan’s murder, Mike wasn’t about to let anything stand in his way.

His father had been shot in the back while visiting the crime scene of an officer-involved shooting. Four years later and the crime remained unsolved.

The key was buried deep within the Dark Knights, a civilian vigilante group known for meting out its own brand of justice against alleged criminals. There were several unsolved murders that were believed to be the work of the Dark Knights. As the police chief, his father had vowed to bring the Dark Knights down. Yet Mike knew the group had connections within the police force—possibly to Duncan O’Hare and Duncan’s father, Ian O’Hare, who had conveniently taken Mike’s father’s place as chief of police after his death.

The night of his father’s funeral, Mike had overheard a conversation between Ian and Duncan O’Hare about how much they secretly admired the Dark Knights. Mike’s theory was that his father had learned about their connection to the vigilantes and had been murdered because of it. Mike wanted them arrested and held accountable for the role they’d played in his father’s death. Staking out Duncan’s house tonight had been a recent attempt to confront the cop about his meeting with Walters.

Duncan’s front door unexpectedly opened and a pretty blonde stepped outside, holding the hand of a small boy who, in Mike’s estimation, was around four or five years old. In the balmy May evening, there was plenty of light in the sky to see them clearly. The woman was wearing jeans and a pink hoodie with a white T-shirt underneath. He gasped and abruptly straightened as he recognized her.

Shayla O’Hare. Duncan’s younger sister and Mike’s former fiancée. He hadn’t seen Shayla in four years, since their heated argument and breakup over her family’s complicity in his father’s murder. The child was a surprise. Since she hadn’t had any children while they were together, Mike assumed the boy was a stepson or an adopted son. He ignored the shaft of pain to his heart at the thought of her being married to another man. She paused near the Jeep and leaned over to talk to the boy.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a dark sports car with tinted windows rolling down the street toward the O’Hare house. A tingling sense of danger had him tugging his gun from his shoulder holster.

The low-slung car slowed and he watched in horror as the passenger’s-side window silently slid down, revealing the barrel of a gun. From what he could tell, the weapon was pointed directly at Shayla.

“Get down!” he shouted as he instinctively fired at the car in an attempt to save Shayla and the boy. The gunshot was loud, hitting the frame of the car with a metallic thud. Shayla screamed and he hoped and prayed she hadn’t been hurt. He fired again, then shifted the gun to his left hand so he could push the start button. The SUV’s engine roared to life.

The sports car accelerated and Mike yanked the gearshift into Drive. He stomped on the gas, gunning down the driveway toward the sports car. He attempted to ram his larger SUV into the small vehicle to halt its escape, but only clipped the back fender. The sports car fishtailed for a moment, then sped off.

He considered following it, but knowing that Shayla and a young boy were in danger had him twisting the wheel to pull in behind the Jeep. He hastily shut down the engine and jumped out, pausing for a moment to holster the gun.

“Shay? It’s Mike Callahan. Are you and the boy all right?”

“Mike?” Her voice was faint and he approached cautiously, unwilling to scare them. “What’s going on?”

Shayla and the child were huddled together behind the Jeep, smartly using the bulky frame as cover. The boy was crying, his faced pressed against Shayla.

“Are either of you hurt?” he asked, dropping down on one knee. “He’s not crying because he’s hit, is he?”

“N-no, we’re fine. Just scared.” Her pale, frightened face belied her words. “Brodie, it’s okay. We’re safe now. You don’t have to be afraid.”

The little boy’s sobs faded and he turned his tear-streaked face to look at Mike. “Is he a good guy, Mommy?”

Mike did his best not to flinch at hearing the word mommy. Shayla had broken his heart four years ago; he should be over their breakup by now.

“I—um, yes. He’s a good guy.” Her voice sounded thick as if she were on the verge of tears, as well.

He couldn’t blame her. That had been a seriously close call. He wasn’t surprised someone had come to Duncan O’Hare’s house with a gun, although he didn’t understand why Shayla and her son would be a target. “Come on, we need to get you both out of here before they decide to return.”

“They who?” she asked. “I heard gunfire and caught a glimpse of the sports car driving away, but who was behind the wheel?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at her, amazed at how she was still so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

She dropped her gaze and hugged the boy close. “I have no idea. I’ve only been back in Milwaukee for a couple of days.”

Ignoring the urge to dredge up the past, he glanced at the Jeep. It must have belonged to her because Duncan drove a white pickup. “Let’s go. We’ll take my car.”

“Wait.” Shayla frowned. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“My first priority is to get you and Brodie somewhere safe. We’ll work out the rest later.”

“O-okay.” Shayla still looked a bit rattled but slowly rose to her feet. Brodie clung to her, so she hauled him up and into her arms. The kid was husky, no doubt about it. Smaller than Mike’s seven-year-old niece, Abby, but not by much. “Will you get the child safety seat out of the Jeep?”

“Sure.” He wrenched open the door and, thanks to practice with his abundance of nieces and nephews, expertly unlatched the seat and carried it to his SUV.

Five minutes later they were on the road, putting distance between them and the scene of the crime. If he hadn’t been there, watching and waiting for Duncan to show... He shuddered. It was too easy to imagine the worst.

The attempt to kill Shayla and her son had to be related to Duncan’s illegal activities. Unless there was something going on in Shayla’s life that had placed her in danger.

“What brings you back to Milwaukee?” he asked, breaking the long silence.

Shayla didn’t answer for a moment, glancing surreptitiously over her shoulder at the child tucked into the back seat. “I came to visit my father. He’s in the hospital. In fact, that’s where I was headed just now.”

He inwardly winced. As much as he held her father and brother responsible for his father’s death, he felt bad for what she was going through. “Is he going to be okay?”

She bit her lip and shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “He needs open-heart surgery. And you can stop pretending you care about my father’s health. We both know that’s a lie.”

The bitterness in her tone reminded him of their last, horrible argument a few months after their breakup. Shayla had reached out to him, but he’d shut her down, unwilling to let go of his beliefs about her family’s guilt. She’d accused him of being obsessed, and maybe he was.

He held his tongue, realizing there was no point in antagonizing her.

“Where is your brother? At the hospital? Or back at the house?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. He was supposed to meet me at the house for dinner, but didn’t.”

“Call him,” he suggested.

“I did. Twice. It goes straight to voice mail.”

“What time was he supposed to meet you?”

“We spoke to the doctor about Dad’s surgery at eleven a.m. We both left the hospital then and were supposed to meet up again at three p.m., but Duncan never showed. I thought for sure he’d meet me at the house at five thirty for dinner, as planned. But he didn’t do that, either.”

Had Duncan realized Mike was following him? Mike glanced at the clock on his dashboard, noting it was almost seven o’clock. Seven hours wasn’t a long time to be missing, but considering what he knew about Duncan’s recent activities, he figured the guy may have got himself into trouble. Either that, or he was hiding from Mike.

“Do you know where Duncan likes to hang out?” he asked, hoping for a kernel of information he could use to find the guy.

“How would I know something like that?” Her voice shimmered with exasperation. “I live in Nashville, Tennessee. I’m only here because of Dad’s hospitalization and upcoming surgery.”

“Does your husband know you’re here?” The blunt question popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“I’m not married, and my personal life is none of your business.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a familiar, defensive move. “Where are we going?”

Shocked to hear she wasn’t married, he didn’t answer right away. His thoughts whirled and he wanted to know more about what Shayla had been doing over the past four years.

Mike forced himself to stay on task, keeping his eyes on the highway as he inwardly debated where to take Shayla and her son. No way would she agree to go to his place, and that seemed too personal anyway, so a motel was their best bet.

“I’m going to put you and Brodie up in a motel for the night.” He took the exit ramp that would take him to the American Lodge Motel. The place was owned by a former firefighter and friend of his brother Mitch’s. Their entire law enforcement family had used the motel as a safe haven while on the run from bad guys so often that they’d joked about renaming it the Callahan Lodge.

Now it was his turn to use it as a place to hide Shayla and her son. And he finally understood a little of what his brothers and his sister had gone through when they’d been in danger.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

The fact that she didn’t argue was concerning. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was keeping information from him.

“Shay, I need you to be honest with me. Is there anyone who wants to hurt you or the boy? Are you running from his father?”

“What?” Her eyes widened in horror. “No! Of course not.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” The denial was spit out through clenched teeth.

“Is this related to Duncan?” he pressed. “It’s hard to understand why he wouldn’t have met with you, considering your dad’s upcoming surgery.”

“He’s a cop. I’m sure he had a good reason.”

Her continued support of her brother grated on his nerves. He knew Duncan was up to his eyeballs in the Dark Knights’ illegal activities. And that involvement must have put Shayla in harm’s way.

As much as he wanted to find out the truth about his father’s murder, keeping Shayla and her son safe had to be his top priority.

* * *

Shayla twisted her hands in her lap, hoping Mike wouldn’t notice how badly she was trembling.

Of all the men to come to her and Brodie’s rescue, why did it have to be Michael Callahan?

Seeing him so unexpectedly after four years had sent her into an emotional tailspin. In some ways he looked the same—his dark hair worn long and shaggy, muscular build and brilliant green eyes. Dressed in black from head to toe had made him appear sinister at first, until he’d rushed to her rescue, his fear and worry for her and Brodie clear in his facial expression and tone.

She hadn’t expected to see him again, although after visiting her father, noting his pale face and weakness while lying in his hospital bed, she’d decided to get in touch with Mike while she was in town. In fact, she was surprised he hadn’t asked her a whole bucketful of personal questions.

Especially about Brodie.

Memories of the past, echoes of what might have been, overwhelmed her with sorrow and regret.

The man she’d fallen in love with and had agreed to marry, had changed after his father’s murder. Mike had instantly become obsessed with uncovering the truth and had irrationally chosen to believe her father and brother were involved.

Ridiculous allegations had caused a terrible argument to erupt between them. Their breakup had been razor-sharp and deeply painful.

When she’d tried to call Mike several months later, he’d refused to talk to her unless she admitted her father and brother were guilty. When she’d refused, Mike had rudely told her they had nothing more to discuss.

So she’d let it go.

Yet, as time had worn on, she’d known she couldn’t hide the truth forever. Her family knew and it was time for Mike to know, as well.

Tonight, she inwardly promised. She’d tell him tonight.

Mike drove up to a white two-story building called the American Lodge Motel. “Stay here,” he said curtly. “I’ll be right back.”

Tempted to snap back, she bit her lip, knowing she should be grateful for Mike’s timely rescue and ongoing support. After hearing the sharp report of gunfire and fearing for her life and Brodie’s, the last thing she wanted to do was to spend the night at Duncan’s.

The shooter had come to Duncan’s house. Why? A shot meant for him? Not logical, since her fair hair was the opposite of his dark brown.

And where was Duncan? What was going on?

Her brother was a cop and she knew that often meant being called in to work after hours. But why wasn’t he taking her calls? Why were they going straight to voice mail?

Questions only Duncan could answer.

She also couldn’t figure out why Mike had been on the scene of the shooting so quickly. Was it possible he’d actually bought the house next to her brother’s? No, that seemed highly unlikely. Four years ago, Mike had made his feelings for her brother crystal clear and she had no reason to doubt that anything had changed over time.

But she had seen Mike going down the driveway into the street in an attempt to hit the car speeding away.

She shot a guilty glance back at Brodie, whose brown eyes were drooping sleepily despite the early-evening hour of seven thirty. No doubt, the poor kid was tuckered out between visiting his grandfather in the hospital and the most recent scare.

The driver’s door opened, startling her. She put a hand over her galloping heart for a moment, then went back to twisting her fingers in her lap. “Find a room?”

“Two connecting rooms,” he corrected. He started the car, made a sweep of the small parking lot and pulled up in front of room number nine. “We have nine and ten.”

“We?” She hated the betraying squeak of alarm in her voice. “Why would you stay here, too?”

“Because you and the kid are both in danger, or has that fact not sunk in yet?”

She bit back a terse retort, unwilling to argue with him in front of Brodie. Yes, she knew she was in danger, but she didn’t understand why.

She battled the surge of panic. She and Brodie were safe now, and she could handle Mike. He was just a man she’d once loved, but that was before he’d accused her father and brother of being dirty cops.

Pushing open her door, she slid out and then opened the back door to reach Brodie.

“Mommy?” His chubby fists rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”

“We’re staying overnight in a motel. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” She unbuckled the straps holding him in and lifted him out of the seat with a muffled groan. Her son was big for his age, growing out of his clothes faster than she could buy them.

“Can we go swimming?” Brodie asked.

“I don’t think so. But there’s probably a kid’s channel on the television.” She set him on his feet. He was quick and prone to rushing off, so she firmly grasped his hand and then eyed Mike. “Which room is mine?”

“Number ten.” Mike handed over a plastic keycard. “But I’d like you to keep the connecting door between our rooms open, in case things go south.”

That was the last thing she wanted to do.

Silently, she took the key and slid it into the door, unlocking it. She stepped over the threshold and felt along the wall for a light switch.

A pale yellow glow filled the room, revealing two double-size beds, a small table and two wooden chairs. A waist-high dresser ran the length of the room with a medium-size television sitting on top of it. The space was larger than she’d anticipated and nicer, as if it had been recently updated. She urged Brodie inside, frowning when Mike followed.

“Hey,” she protested when he crossed over to unlock her side of the connecting doors.

“I need to be able to reach you if there’s any trouble,” he repeated without showing signs of impatience. “I promise not to infringe on your privacy.”

Once again, he was probably right, but his tendency to issue orders—as if he were a drill sergeant and she were a lowly soldier—didn’t sit well. She’d forgotten how bossy he could be.

Except four years ago he hadn’t been as prone to barking orders.

He’d been sweet, kind and caring...devastated after the fight with his father over turning down a position with the Milwaukee Police Department after graduating from the academy.

“What else are you not telling me?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Nothing!” She hoped her cheeks weren’t flush with guilt. “I don’t know where Duncan is or where he normally hangs out.” She turned on the television to help keep Brodie occupied. “Why don’t you tell me why you were so Johnny-on-the-spot, parked next to Duncan’s house in the first place?”

There was a brief flash of guilt in his green eyes but his expression remained impassive. “I was waiting for your brother.”

The blunt answer surprised her. “Why?”

“To confront him about his illegal activities.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Same song and dance, Mike? Aren’t you tired of it yet?” She waved a hand and turned away. “Never mind. As you so rudely put it the last time we spoke, there’s nothing more to discuss.”

“Shayla, someone tried to shoot you outside Duncan’s house. Doesn’t that tell you something? Your brother’s in trouble.”

“The shot was aimed at me, not my brother. And did it ever occur to you that Duncan could be working undercover? That he’s in danger because of a case he’s working on? That maybe the attempt on me was a way to seek revenge against him?”

Mike didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Anything is possible.” The way he said it didn’t give her the impression he really believed it. He moved toward the door. “I need to make a few calls, but holler if you need something, okay?”

Ironically, despite her irritation over the connecting doors between their rooms, she suddenly didn’t want him to leave. “Mike?”

“Yeah?” He paused and looked at her over his shoulder.

The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not like this. She needed to wait until her son was asleep before uttering a deep, emotional confession. Her stomach rolled and she forced a smile. “Never mind. Good night.”

He stared at her for a long moment before giving her a nod. “Good night.”

He left, softly closing the door behind him. Her knees were shaky and weak, so she sank onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.

How was it possible he didn’t know, or suspect, that Brodie was his son?

TWO

Mike’s first call was to his buddy Hawk Jacobson. Hawk was another private investigator, and while they both preferred working alone, they also helped each other out on occasion.

“What?” Hawk answered.

“I need help.”

“Again?” Hawk’s tone was dry.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll return the favor.”

“Except that I don’t get into trouble the way your family tends to.”

Difficult to argue that one. Each of his siblings had a career in some kind of law enforcement and had been in danger more times than he could count over the past few years. Hawk’s assistance had been instrumental in proving his brother’s innocence when Mitch had been framed for murder last year.

“I heard Duncan O’Hare hasn’t been seen since noon. It’s too early to file a missing-persons report, but I have reason to believe he’s in trouble. Any chance you can find out more? He has a partner, doesn’t he? A guy named Peter Fresno?”

Mike could hear the sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard. “Yeah,” Hawk agreed. “Peter Fresno is O’Hare’s partner, working out of the fifth district.”

“I need to talk to him.”

Hawk snorted. “Good luck. Getting the address of a cop is nearly impossible. They protect that information closer than Fort Knox protects gold.”

“Not if I can find another cop to provide that info to me.” Mike had two brothers and a brother-in-law who were all Milwaukee cops. He didn’t like asking them to break their code of ethics, but the lives of an innocent woman and her son were on the line. In his opinion, that trumped work ethics. “Anything you can find out would be helpful.”

“Okay.” Hawk disconnected from the line.

Mike sat for a moment, staring at his phone, debating who to call. His brother Miles was a homicide investigator. His brother Matt was a K-9 officer and his sister Maddy’s husband, Noah, had just taken his detective exam, earning himself a gold shield.

May as well start at the top, he thought, scrolling through his contact list to find Miles. His brother answered almost immediately. “What’s up?”

Mike sighed. “I guess it’s my turn to need assistance.”

“Hey, man, don’t take it so hard. It was only a matter of time,” Miles said in a consoling tone.

Mike couldn’t help but chuckle. Hawk was right—the Callahans did have a way of getting into the middle of danger. “It’s not really me, but a friend. A woman and her son.”

“Really?” Miles’s voice rose with interest. “Tell me more.”

Mike rolled his eyes. Now that all the other Callahans were married and having kids, he was the only single guy left. A fact his family never let him forget. “Knock it off. I was keeping an eye on a suspect’s house when I witnessed an attempt to kill a woman and her child. I was able to prevent that from happening and am now keeping her safe.”

“Did you report it?” Miles asked.

“I’m reporting it to you right now. Because I trust you, Miles.” And he didn’t trust all of the cops on the force. “Unfortunately the car involved in the drive-by shooting took off and I didn’t get a plate number. There may be shells or bullet fragments on the scene, so you need to send a few uniforms over to Duncan O’Hare’s house to check it out.”

“O’Hare?” Miles voice rose sharply. “The son of the police chief? That O’Hare?”

“Yeah. And his daughter, Shayla, was the intended victim.”

Miles whistled. “This has to go straight to the top, Mike.”

Exactly what he was trying to avoid. “You do what you need to do. But I’m working the case my way, and there’s a guy I need to talk to. Peter Fresno. He’s an MPD cop working out of the fifth district. I need his contact information, address and phone number.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Mike knew he was asking a lot and if Miles couldn’t, or wouldn’t, help him, he wasn’t so sure Matt or Noah would, either.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Miles finally said. “You think Duncan’s partner is responsible for the shooting?”

“No, I don’t. But he may have information that can help.”

“You’re skating on the edge here, bro. You used to date Shayla, didn’t you? Are you sure you’re not letting your emotions cloud your judgment?”

Maybe, he silently admitted. Shayla and Brodie were the true innocents in this mess. “Look, two days ago I witnessed a meeting between Duncan O’Hare and the alleged leader of the Dark Knights, Lane Walters. I’m telling you, O’Hare has crossed over to the dark side.”

“The chief’s son? A dirty cop? Seriously? You better have hard-core proof to back up an allegation like that.”

“Exactly. Which is why I need your help.” Mike paused and then added, “I’ve never asked you for this kind of favor before, Miles. You know how much I prefer to work alone. This is critical or I wouldn’t ask now.”

Miles let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, okay. I’ll call you back in a few.” Miles clicked off and Mike stared down at his phone once again.

The case was important but his thoughts kept returning to Shayla, the woman he’d once loved, and her son.

For a brief moment he’d thought the boy was his, but the math didn’t add up. Four years ago, the night he’d left the academy and his father had practically disowned him, he’d turned his back on his faith and his family, seeking solace in Shayla’s arms.

They’d been seeing each other for six months by then and, knowing they’d gone too far, Mike hadn’t hesitated in asking her to marry him. He’d been ecstatic when she’d agreed. They’d secretly made plans to go to the courthouse, but a week later his father was murdered. Ian O’Hare had instantly been appointed interim and then permanent chief of police.

From that moment on, especially after he’d heard Duncan and Ian talking about secretly supporting the Dark Knights, Mike had become obsessed with learning the truth.

An obsession that had torn him and Shayla apart.

But there was no sense in rehashing the past. Keeping Shayla safe was his priority. Hearing that she wasn’t running from the boy’s father had been slightly reassuring. But he still thought it was strange that the guy had let her drive from Nashville to Milwaukee alone, especially knowing that her father was sick in the hospital. Shouldn’t he be here, supporting her?

Unless the guy was already out of the picture? Divorce or death... He winced and inwardly shrugged. As Shayla pointed out, her personal life was none of his business.

He rose and crossed the room to listen intently at the connecting door. There was nothing unusual past the muted sounds of the television.

He was about to step over the threshold to question her more about Brodie’s father when his phone buzzed and Hawk’s name popped up on the screen.

“What did you find out?” Mike asked.

“Not much. Apparently, Duncan’s been off work for a couple of days.”

That made sense based on his father’s upcoming surgery. “Anything else?”

“No squawking about illegal activity, if that’s what you mean. But we wouldn’t hear even if there was a hint of scandal. Cops don’t like to advertise when one of their own might be dirty.”

“True, especially not the police chief’s son.” The task he faced suddenly seemed insurmountable. He did his best to shake off the impending sense of doom. “Hawk, would you do something else for me?”

The PI heaved a loud sigh. “Now what?”

“Dig into the background of a woman named Shayla O’Hare and a four-or five-year-old boy named Brodie.”

“The sister? Why?”

“She’s in danger and claims she doesn’t know why. Denies she’s running from the boy’s father, but I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

“Why not?” Hawk once again abruptly disconnected. The guy didn’t like to use words like hello or goodbye, but Mike was used to it.

His phone rang again. This time it was Miles. “That was fast,” Mike said.

“Yeah, well it’s my turn to put Adam to bed so I have to make this quick. I was able to get Pete’s address and a cell number.” Miles rattled off the information as Mike scribbled it down on the motel notepad with a stubby pencil.

“How is Adam? Sleeping through the night?”

“Most of the time, but he’s teething again so it’s a toss-up whether or not he will this week.” Pride was evident in his brother’s tone. Miles and his wife, Paige, had two kids—Abby, who was seven, and Adam, who’d just turned one. Rumor had it that Miles and Paige were trying for baby number three, which was unfathomable.

Just because Mike and his siblings came from a family of six kids didn’t mean they each needed to have the same number of children. But try telling his brothers and sister that. It seemed the Callahans were determined to populate the city.

Except for him. After his relationship with Shayla had disintegrated beyond repair, he’d focused on nothing more than finding the man responsible for his father’s murder.

Besides, he wasn’t interested in opening himself up to being hurt like that again. Not after the way Shayla had shattered his heart.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Miles continued, breaking into his thoughts. “The cops were already out at Duncan’s place, someone reported the sound of gunfire. But they haven’t found much.”

“Not even a bullet fragment? That seems unlikely.”

“It’s early in the investigation,” Miles pointed out. “But you also need to know there’s a report of a black SUV fleeing the scene. I’m sure that was you, right?”

“Yep.”

“No license plate number, but you might want to consider changing your vehicle, just to be safe.”

“Okay, thanks. I appreciate the intel.”

There was a slight pause then, “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this about Dad’s murder?”

He hesitated. “Honestly? I think so, but have no proof.” Yet.

Another pause. “I need you to be careful, okay?” Miles finally said. “And don’t forget we’re here if you need us. After all, our motto is that family sticks together. Don’t shut us out. We all want to find the truth behind Dad’s murder.”

“I know.” Mike was touched by his brother’s offer. His siblings knew he was a bit of a lone wolf, forging his own path in the world. Which was exactly why he and his father had got into that fateful argument a week before his murder. His father had railed at him for being selfish, for not giving back to the community. Mike had tried to explain that he’d changed his mind. That he didn’t want to wait to become a detective—that he’d wanted to do that now. But his father hadn’t listened. And rather than try to talk it through, Mike had walked away, turned his back on his family and his faith.

The last words he’d said to his father had been in anger. After the murder, Mike had been assailed by guilt, desperately wishing he’d taken the opportunity to tell his dad he was sorry. That he loved him.

Something that still bothered him every single day.

Months later, after he’d come back to his family and his faith, he’d prayed that his father knew that he was sorry for the way they’d parted that day.

And hoped his father would forgive him.

“Mike?” Miles’s voice brought his attention back to the present.

“Yeah. Thanks, Miles. I won’t forget.”

“Later, then.” Miles hung up, leaving Mike to wonder how he should approach the new information. He wanted nothing more than to head right over to talk to Peter Fresno, yet at the same time the idea that his SUV might have been seen leaving Duncan’s house nagged at him.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d asked Hawk to swap rides. He could always use one of his undercover identities to rent a different vehicle, too. It wasn’t illegal to have an alternate ID as long as he didn’t commit a crime while using it. He debated between doing something tonight or waiting until the morning.

Normally he wouldn’t hesitate, but he didn’t want to disturb Shayla and her son. The chances that someone could have tracked him from Duncan’s house to the American Lodge were slim to nonexistent. And if they had? There would be cops already knocking at the door.

Convinced they were safe for the moment, he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Feeling restless, he paced the small interior of the room. He wanted to go over to Shayla’s room to grill her about Duncan, but knew she wasn’t going to tell him anything more than she already had.

And maybe she truly didn’t know anything more. Interesting to find out she lived in Nashville and had only returned because of her father’s illness. No wonder their paths hadn’t crossed in the past four years.

Mike doused the lights and stretched out on the bed fully dressed. Since he didn’t have his file on his father’s murder to review, he thought it best to get caught up on rest. Working eighteen-hour days and sleeping less than six hours per night had taken its toll.

He fell asleep almost immediately, only to be woken by a piercing scream. Bolting out of bed, he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and barreled through the connecting door into Shayla’s room, his heart practically thumping out of his chest as he frantically scanned for an intruder.

All he saw was Shayla cuddling Brodie close, whispering reassurances to him. Mike’s heart rate slowed and he lowered his weapon, gulping air as he realized there wasn’t any danger.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked, approaching cautiously.

“Put the gun away,” she whispered harshly. “You’re scaring him!”

He didn’t bother to point out the kid had screamed in terror before he’d come in with his gun. He tucked the weapon into the back of his waistband, then stood awkwardly for a moment. “Are you sure you’re not running from his father?” he asked.

“I’m sure.” Her tone was firm.

“Then why the nightmare?”

Her deep brown eyes narrowed. “Obviously the scene in my brother’s driveway must have scared him more than I realized. Hearing gunfire would frighten any child.”

The boy’s dark hair was a stark contrast to Shayla’s riot of blond curls. He’d noticed earlier, the kid’s brown eyes were identical to hers, though; a fact that niggled at him.

He glanced around the room, then took a step back. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“I will.” She continued rocking the boy, pressing kisses to the top of his head while rubbing her hand along his back.

Mike didn’t leave, even though he knew he should. Several minutes ticked by before the boy relaxed against her, appearing to fall asleep. Satisfied the crisis was over, Mike turned away. But once again she stopped him.

“Wait, Mike. Will you stay for a few minutes?” Her voice was soft, as if she didn’t want to disturb her son.

“Uh, sure.” Surprised she asked, he pulled out a chair and sat. “What do you need?”

“I need—we need—to talk.” The seriousness of her tone made him frown.

“About what?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, then finally met his gaze. “Brodie’s father.”

* * *

Shayla knew she couldn’t live with herself if she continued with the charade a moment longer. Gingerly, she eased away from her son so that he was lying on the pillow. He snuggled against it for a moment but didn’t wake up. She pulled the covers up over his shoulders and then slipped off the bed.

She felt terrible about Brodie’s nightmare. She’d hoped her young son hadn’t noticed the gun pointed in their direction by the small black car or that the sharp report he’d heard was from a gun.

But Brodie was smart and she’d failed to protect him from the grim reality of gunfire. Maybe she should demand Mike take her to her Jeep so she could drive back to Nashville. Brodie didn’t deserve to be subjected to terrifying experiences like this.

Then again, what if the danger followed her? What if the person trying to seek revenge on Duncan wouldn’t hesitate to take her and Brodie out to make a point?

“You are running from him,” Mike said, interrupting her thoughts.

“No.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had no idea how to tell him. “Let’s go into your room, so we don’t wake Brodie.”

“Fine.”

She picked up her cell phone in case the hospital staff called and followed him through the connecting door.

“Who is he?” Mike asked.

She stared at him, realizing that once she told him the truth, her life and Brodie’s would never be the same. She’d noticed Mike didn’t wear a wedding ring, but not all men did. He could still be involved with someone. The knots in her belly tightened painfully but she told herself to grow a spine. She locked her fingers and lifted her chin. “You are.”

His jaw dropped comically, and then anger flashed in his green eyes. “Don’t play games. Brodie is what—four? Going on five?”

“He’s three,” she corrected swiftly. “His birthday is in February. Valentine’s Day to be exact. And yes, he’s big for his age. But I’m not playing games. Why would I? Brodie is your son.”

His face went blank for a moment, then he leaped to his feet. “And you’re just telling me now?”

“Shh, don’t wake him up. And I tried to call you when I found out, remember how that went?” She could tell her tone was defensive and tried to bring it down a notch. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you.”

“You should have called me again,” he countered, but his voice lacked heat. He stood and paced the length of the room. “I can’t believe it. Mine. Brodie is my son!”

“Our son.” Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she quickly pulled it out. She expected the call to be from the hospital but her brother’s name flashed on the screen. “This is Duncan,” she said in relief.

“Put it on speaker,” Mike demanded.

She frowned and shook her head, fearing her brother wouldn’t talk freely if he knew she wasn’t alone. “Duncan? Where are you? Why didn’t you meet me at the hospital?”

“How’s Dad?” His voice was soft, as if he were someplace he couldn’t talk.

“He’s fine. His surgery is still planned for the day after tomorrow. They want to make sure his blood pressure is stable before they put him under anesthesia.” She could feel Mike’s gaze boring into her and did her best to ignore it. “Where are you? I was worried when you didn’t come back to the house.”

“Yeah, well, I picked up a tail so I thought it was best to stay away.”

“Picked up a tail?” She glared at Mike, knowing he’d likely been the one following her brother. “Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”

She held her breath, waiting, hoping, praying. Then finally her brother admitted, “I’m in a motel in Jacksonville. A place called the Rustic Resort. But don’t come here. It’s late and Brodie’s probably asleep. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Duncan, listen to me. Someone took a shot at me and Brodie outside your house. We needed protection, so I’m here with Mike Callahan. We’ll pick you up, okay? It’s better if we work together on this.”

“You were shot at? That’s crazy! Listen, I have to go.” Her brother abruptly ended the call.

“Duncan?” Feeling frantic, she hit the redial button on her phone.

The call went straight to voice mail. She dragged her gaze to Mike’s. “He hung up. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Where is he?” Mike demanded.

“In Jacksonville.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m worried he’s in trouble. He didn’t say it in so many words, but that’s the sense I get.”

“That’s why I wanted you to put the call on speaker.” The sharp note in his voice ticked her off.

“Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Tension shimmered between them for a long moment and this time Mike turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. Let’s go get him.”

“Good idea.” She jumped to her feet. “Let me get Brodie.”

Mike stared at her and she could tell he was thinking about the fact that Brodie was his son. “No need to wake him up. Give me the name of the motel and I’ll head over to get your brother. Better that you and Brodie stay here where it’s safe.”

“No.” She wasn’t in the mood for his drill sergeant persona. “We’re going with you.”

“Not happening,” Mike said firmly.

“You don’t know the name of the motel, but I do. Besides, I said Duncan might be in trouble, not that he was in danger. I’m the one who was shot at. Don’t you think we should stick together?”

Mike looked torn, as if considering her point.

“Let’s go,” she said. “We’re wasting time arguing about this.”

It was clear he didn’t like it, but he reluctantly nodded. She spun on her heel and went back into her room to pick up Brodie.

As she lifted her son into her arms, she hoped that Duncan and Mike could find a way to work together.

Her safety and Brodie’s could very well depend on it.

THREE

Reeling from the news he was Brodie’s father, Mike struggled to stay focused. Shayla’s stubbornness frustrated him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. They absolutely needed to stick together. And he’d rather have both Shayla and Brodie with him than alone in a motel room.

His anger toward her was redirected to himself. She had called him a few months after their fight and he’d interrupted whatever she’d been about to tell him.

Granted, it had never entered his wildest dreams she might confess she was pregnant. That the one night they’d shared had changed their lives forever.

If anyone should have called again, it was him.

Standing awkwardly near the SUV, he waited for Shayla to strap Brodie into his car seat. When she finished, he held the passenger door open for her and she shot him a curious look as she slid into the passenger seat. He went around to the driver’s side and put the SUV in gear.

Neither one of them broke the silence for several long moments.

“Why did you move to Nashville?”

“Huh?” She looked confused, then shrugged and turned away. “My aunt Jean lives there. She offered to help with the baby.”

“I would have helped with Brodie.” The words shot out of his mouth before he could stop them. Seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Shayla shifted in her seat to face him. “You accused my father and brother of being criminals, remember?”

He couldn’t deny it. And he’d apologize except that two days ago he’d witnessed her brother meeting with Lane Walters. And to his eye, they’d appeared very friendly.

More miles passed before he spoke again. “You’re sure he said Jacksonville?”

“Yes.” She shivered a bit in the cool night breeze. Once the sun went down, the warmth promising a hint of summer quickly evaporated. The pink hoodie she wore wasn’t very thick.

He turned up the heat for her sake and Brodie’s, then glanced at her. “I want to be a part of Brodie’s life.”

Shayla let out a harsh laugh. “I’m sure you do. However, has it occurred to you that the two people you’re accusing of being criminals are Brodie’s uncle and grandfather?”

A hard lump formed in the back of his throat, making it impossible to speak. She was right, he hadn’t considered that fact, yet he couldn’t let go of what he knew in his heart was true. Duncan and Ian were involved in his father’s murder and needed to be brought to justice.

No matter the consequences? His resolve wavered. He couldn’t lose his son.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Shayla said in a weary tone. “You really won’t even entertain the idea that Duncan is working undercover?”

“I’ll consider it,” he said, forcing the admission past his tight throat. “I’m willing to listen to your brother’s side of the story.”

“That’s something, I guess.” Shayla turned to stare out the passenger window.

He knew he needed to tread lightly from here on out. Alienating Shayla wouldn’t help his goal of being involved in Brodie’s life.

Maybe a mediator would help. He dug his phone out of his pocket and gently lobbed it over the center console. “Find Hawk’s number—it’s in my most recent calls. I spoke to him ten minutes ago. Wouldn’t hurt to have backup.”

She fumbled with the phone for a moment, then hit the number and the speaker. The sound of a ringing phone could be heard before a sleepy, querulous voice answered. “Callahan, don’t you sleep?”

His mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. “I need backup, can you meet me in Jacksonville?”

Hawk uttered a low groan. “Yeah, but I need to know where exactly you want to meet.”

“To a motel called...” He waited for Shayla to pipe in.

“The Rustic Resort,” she finally admitted.

Hawk made some sort of grunting sound and then the line went silent.

“That was weird,” Shayla murmured. “He didn’t say goodbye.”

“That’s just how Hawk is.” He held out his hand for the phone and she dropped it into his palm. The device was warm from her touch and he closed his fingers around it, wishing he could go back in time to do things differently.

“Mommy? I’m hungry.”

Shayla reached behind her seat to lightly touch her son’s knee. “We’ll get something later, okay?”

“We can stop and get something,” Mike interjected. He felt bad for not thinking of it sooner. He’d forgotten what it was like to be around little kids.

Not just any kid.

His son.

Her expression turned wry. “We picked up dinner at Burger Barn shortly before you came rushing to our rescue. Trust me, this is normal. Brodie’s always hungry. The kid has an appetite that doesn’t quit.”

He found himself mesmerized by every morsel of information she doled out about his son and insatiable for more. He wanted to ask about everything from how her pregnancy went to the delivery to who watched Brodie while she worked, if she worked, which he assumed she must. It burned to know that he hadn’t paid a dime of child support.

He would have, if he’d known. And whose fault was that?

His. And hers. But mostly his.

The sight of the Jacksonville sign interrupted his crazy thoughts. They’d made good time, arriving sooner than expected. “We need to find out where the Rustic Resort is located.”

“It’s off County Highway BB.” She was looking down at her phone. “Roughly five miles from here.”

He hoped Hawk had made good time as well, because he wasn’t about to put Shayla or Brodie in danger. He and Hawk would talk to Duncan, while Shayla and Brodie stayed well out of the way.

“I think that’s it, up ahead.”

He saw the building she indicated and slowed down to pull off the road. Hitting the redial button on his phone, he called Hawk. “How far away are you?”

“Eight minutes, maybe less.”

Sitting out in the open like this made him twitchy. It was past midnight, which meant traffic out here in no-man’s-land was nonexistent. They were an obvious target and he didn’t like it. “I’m going to drive past the place, see what we’re dealing with. Call me when you get close.”

“Yep.”

He tucked his phone into his pocket and pulled back out onto the highway. The Rustic Resort was all rustic and very little resort, with ten rooms in a long row. It was set back about one hundred feet from the highway, but even as he drove past, he could see there were only three cars parked in the lot and none of them was a white pickup. A black pickup was in front of the third room, but not a white one, the kind Duncan drove.

A chill snaked down his spine.

Either Duncan had ditched his truck and hitched a ride, or he’d got his hands on a spare vehicle. For Shayla’s brother’s sake, he hoped it was the latter.

Without a ride handy, her brother would be stuck there like a mouse in a trap.

From what he could tell, the motel butted up against a farmer’s field. There were long rows of newly turned dirt and a farmhouse way out in the distance. No lights were on inside the place, making him wonder where the owners of the land were. Or maybe they just leased the land to someone else who did the work.

Worst of all, the farmland didn’t offer any type of cover. He couldn’t imagine what Duncan was thinking to choose this place. He and his brothers would have looked for something with an escape route. Even the American Lodge had one, especially from the corner room that he’d given Shayla.

At the next intersection, he turned right and pulled off the road. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Patience wasn’t his strongest attribute and he was finding it difficult to wait on Hawk. After five minutes had passed, he pulled out his phone, but before he could call Hawk, his buddy’s name popped up on the screen.

“I’m approaching the motel now,” Hawk said without preamble. “What’s the plan?”

“There isn’t any coverage behind the place, so I’ll park on the south end of the lot while you take the north. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“Know how many hostiles we’re facing?”

“Nope. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” He hung up, hoping Shayla hadn’t heard Hawk’s term for her brother. Hawk had spent time as a soldier, fighting overseas in Iraq. In Hawk’s world, anyone who wasn’t a good guy was automatically deemed a hostile.

Despite seeing the meeting between Duncan and Lane, Mike couldn’t help admitting Shayla had a point. There was a chance, albeit a remote one, that her brother was working undercover.

It didn’t explain what he’d overheard at his father’s funeral, but still. He’d promised to listen to Duncan’s side of the story, and he would.

After making a U-turn, Mike headed back toward the motel. He could see Hawk’s SUV headlights approaching from the opposite direction. Relieved to have Hawk’s assistance, he pulled into the parking lot, turned around and backed into the spot near the south side of the building. He purposefully positioned the SUV so that it was directly facing the road, in case Shayla had to leave in a hurry.

“You need to get in behind the wheel,” he directed. “And if anything goes wrong, I want you and Brodie to bolt out of here, understand?”

Her expression was full of concern. “And leave you? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll be fine with Hawk. You have our son to worry about.”

She bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay. You’ll be careful, right? You won’t hurt Duncan?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that he would only take action against Duncan if her brother started it first, but there was no reason to say anything that might upset her.

“Everything will be fine,” he said reassuringly. “This is all just an added precaution. But promise me that if you hear anything go wrong, you’ll drive straight to the closest police station. Ask for my brother Miles, or Matt. Or Noah Sinclair. And if all else fails, you can ask for my dad’s buddy Kirk Stoltz.”

Her expression held a note of uncertainty. “I will.”

He hoped so. He slid out from behind the wheel. Shayla awkwardly climbed over the console and dropped into the driver’s seat. He waited until she had the seat adjusted for her shorter frame before gently closing the door and loping across the parking lot to meet up with Hawk.

“Which room?” Hawk asked.

“I don’t know. We could ask the clerk.” He frowned when he noticed the black pickup. There was something off about it. “Wait a minute. I want to check this out.”

“I’ll cover you.”

Next to his brothers and brother-in-law, Hawk was the only other person Mike trusted to cover his back. Despite being injured during his stint as a soldier, with a long jagged facial scar to prove it, he knew Hawk would go to the mat for him, and vice versa.

Mike hunkered down beside the truck and swept his hand over the side panel. It wasn’t smooth, the way paint from a factory was. There were rough spots. He turned on his phone and used the flashlight application to inspect the underbelly.

Edges of white paint could be seen behind the black.

“This is Duncan’s truck,” he whispered. “He must have painted it black to disguise it. He’s likely in room three.”

“Not necessarily,” Hawk pointed out.

Mike knew Hawk was right. He’d purposefully parked in front of his own room at the American Lodge, leaving the space in front of Shayla’s room vacant. That way the room looked empty. If he were staying here, he’d absolutely park in a different spot. Especially with so many to choose from.

“We’ll try three first.” Using the truck for cover, he approached the motel door. He flattened himself against the wall on one side of the door, leaving Hawk to do the same on the other side.

He rapped on the door with his knuckles.

Nothing.

He and Hawk exchanged a long glance before he tried again with the same result.

They repeated the tactic on number two and number four.

Still no response.

“Let’s check with the clerk,” Mike finally said.

Hawk followed as they went inside the small lobby. An elderly man looked up in surprise. Judging by the bilateral hearing aids, the guy hadn’t heard them knocking outside or their approach as they’d walked in.

Mike flashed smile. “I’m here to pick up a friend of mine, Duncan O’Hare. He called me from room three, but isn’t answering the door.”

“Eh?” The man leaned forward. “What’s the name?”

“Duncan O’Hare,” he repeated loudly. “Room three.”

The old man used his two index fingers to tap on the computer screen, then sagely nodded. “Yes, he’s here.”

Mike glanced at Hawk and then repeated himself. “Duncan’s not answering the door. He must be really sound asleep. Would you mind giving us a key? I don’t want to wake up your other guests.”

The guy frowned. “I don’t know about that...”

Mike lifted his hands. “I get it, no problem. We’ll just keep knocking, I’m sure he’ll wake up eventually.” Without hesitating, he turned and began to walk away.

Before he reached the door, the elderly man called him back. “Wait, son. Take the key.”

The threat of creating a lot of noise had worked. Mike flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Poor guy’s going through a rough time.”

“Aren’t we all?” the old guy agreed. “Business ain’t so good these days. Can’t afford to lose my guests.”

Key in hand, Mike approached the door cautiously. Hawk once again took up a defensive position on the other side of the door. Mike unlocked the door and pushed it open with his foot while hugging the wall.

Still nothing.

He and Hawk cautiously entered the room, noticing the fast-food wrappers in the garbage bin and that the bedspread was messed up, as if someone had stretched out there.

But there was no sign of Duncan O’Hare.

A feeling of helplessness washed over him. Duncan had left, without his white-painted-black truck.

Leaving nothing resembling a clue behind.

* * *

Waiting for Mike was sheer torture. Shayla gripped the steering wheel, hoping that he’d hurry up and get her brother out of the motel. She’d feel better if Duncan stayed with her, Brodie and Mike.

There was strength in numbers.

Mike and his friend Hawk moved with excruciating slowness. The wait was killing her. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. Skulking around in the dark was causing her imagination to run wild.

If this level of suspense continued, she was afraid Brodie wouldn’t be the only one to suffer from nightmares. She’d have them, too.

Braced for the worst, she hunched her shoulders, listening intently for any sound of a struggle. She doubted Duncan would welcome Mike with open arms and prayed things wouldn’t get out of hand.

Now that Mike knew the truth about Brodie, she couldn’t help wondering how they’d make things work between them. Selfishly, she didn’t want to share custody on alternate weekends and days of the week. Brodie didn’t even know Mike—surely he wouldn’t force the issue of custody right away.

And Mike’s opinion about her father and brother still rankled.

When she saw the two men emerge from the motel room, her stomach knotted. The men parted ways. Mike returned to the SUV while his buddy Hawk walked to a different vehicle on the other side of the parking lot.

She belatedly scrambled back over the console into the passenger seat. As soon as Mike was settled, she peppered him with questions.

“What happened? Where’s Duncan? Did you talk to him? Is he upset? Let me try...”

Mike started the engine, clicked his seat belt into place and turned to face her, his expression grim. “I’m sorry, Shay, but he’s not there.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You must have the wrong room.”

“No, the guy at the front desk confirmed Duncan was staying in room three and that’s his truck, now spray-painted black, parked out front. There are signs he was there, but he’s gone now.”

Her jaw dropped and she twisted to look through the back window. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Mike drove out onto the highway, heading back the way they’d come.

“But—” She glanced back at Brodie, who’d nodded off while they’d waited for Mike. She didn’t want her son to overhear her next question. “Do you think he’s hurt? Was there any sign of a struggle? Like—blood?”

“No sign of trouble,” he assured her, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. It was the first time he’d voluntarily touched her and she was shocked by the tingling sensation that skipped along her nerve endings. She had to remind herself this wasn’t the time for long-dormant hormones to run amok. “Try not to think the worst, okay?”

She nodded, because speaking past the lump in her throat wasn’t an option. Losing Duncan would be awful. He’d been the main point of contact with her family. Her father had been upset about her pregnancy at first but had eventually come around. But being police chief took a lot of his time. Since her mother had died when she and Duncan were young, Aunt Jean had stepped in to help raise them. Once they were grown, Aunt Jean had moved to Nashville. Joining her aunt in Tennessee had been Shayla’s choice.

Aunt Jean, Duncan and her father were her only supporters.

Where was her brother? What in the world was going on?

“He’s working undercover,” she repeated, more to convince herself than anything else. Mike might claim her brother was involved in something illegal but she refused to believe it. “He knew I was safe with you, so he decided to go off on his own to work the case.”

“It’s possible,” Mike agreed. “Do you want me to pick up something for Brodie to eat?”

“Huh? Oh, no. He should be fine until morning. I have fish crackers in my purse if he needs something.”

“I don’t mind,” he insisted. “Just let me know.”

“Duncan didn’t leave a note or anything?”

“Not that I saw.” Mike glanced at her. “Try his cell again.”

She did, but naturally her brother didn’t pick up. She hadn’t expected him to.

“I’m worried,” she confessed softly. “I don’t understand where Duncan would go without his truck. This place is too far out to get anywhere on foot. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hold that thought.” Mike’s gaze was focused on the rearview mirror. “We have company.”

“What?” She twisted in her seat, her heart skittering at the bright headlights growing larger and closer behind them. “It’s probably Hawk.”

“It’s not. Hawk took a different route. Besides, these headlights are low and widely spaced, like a sports car. They’re not high enough to be an SUV.”

Remembering the sports car that had pulled up in front of Duncan’s house caused fear to rake like talons along the back of her neck. Peering over her shoulder, she glanced at her sleeping son. “What are we going to do?”

“Lose them. Hang on.” That was all the warning he gave her before yanking the wheel hard to the left. The SUV bounced wildly as he drove toward a farmer’s field. She gripped the armrest, digging her fingernails into the cushion.

Brodie woke up and began to cry, no doubt because of the rough ride.

“It’s okay, Brodie, we’re fine. Don’t be afraid.”

Brodie continued to cry and she wanted to beg Mike to get them out of the field as soon as possible. She kept reassuring Brodie but his cries grew louder and louder.

She craned her neck, trying to see where the headlights were, when the sound of gunfire echoed through the night.

Someone in the car behind them was shooting at them!

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