Raw Talent
Debra Webb

MILLS & BOON

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Life sometimes throws us painful curves. We can learn

from them and move on with our lives or we can allow

the past to jeopardize our future. This book is dedicated

to a man who has overcome the obstacles life has tossed in

his way. He has risen above numerous adversities and

remained ever hopeful. To my baby brother, John Brashier,

with all my love, this one is for you.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Gabrielle Jordan—She is one of the Colby Agency’s new recruits, but she isn’t who she says she is. She has one goal: revenge.

A. J. Braddock—He is one of the Colby Agency’s newest and hottest investigators. He is an expert tracker. If anyone can find Gabrielle before she completes her mission, he can.

Trevor Sloan—Sloan has been to hell and back more than once. He will not allow anyone to threaten his family under any circumstances.

Pablo Vencino—Sloan’s most trusted employee.

Valerie Vencino—Pablo’s niece, who learns the hard way that love is blind.

Manuel Estes—Valerie’s untrustworthy boyfriend who will do anything for money.

Detective Hernando Cervantes—He knows there is more to this case than a mere kidnapping.

Chico Vega—An old contact of Sloan’s who can provide anyone with anything most anywhere.

George Fuentes—A man who likes his business and doesn’t intend to let anyone get in his way.

Contents

CAST OF CHARACTERS

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

About the Author

Coming Next Month

Chapter One

Florescitaf, Mexico

The cantina looked exactly like the sort of dump Gabrielle Jordan had expected. Based on what she’d read and heard about Sloan, he would fit in at Los Laureles just fine. Her jaw clenched automatically at the very thought of the man who had killed her father. A man who cared for little but himself. She didn’t have to go inside the place he’d once frequented to know the clientele would be every bit as sleazy as the rundown building looked.

An alley sliced between the cantina and an open air meat market next door. The alley as well as the market appeared deserted and about as welcoming as the rest of this side of town. But that was okay. She wasn’t here to make friends or to even tour the sights and sounds of a part of Mexico sheltered from the passage of time.

She was here to settle a score.

She’d traveled all this way to do one thing and one thing only: to watch a man die a slow, painful death.

No matter if she died in the process. No matter how much pain she had to endure to make it happen. She wasn’t leaving until one of them was dead, him or her.

The odor of stale cigarette smoke, alcohol and plain old male sweat met her at the entrance to the cantina. Ancient overhead fans that had long ago seen better days stirred the thick air.

She moved fully into the cantina, feeling the suspicious stares cast her way like razors sliding over her skin. Tables were scattered around the room. Only a few were occupied, but that handful looked meaner than junkyard dogs. The dubious glares quickly evolved into lustful leers that made her shudder inwardly with revulsion. But she wasn’t afraid. Not for a second. If any of these scumbags thought for a second that their ogling would scare her off, they had another thought coming.

Nothing scared Gabrielle. Nothing at all. A girl didn’t spend eighteen months in a Texas prison without getting tough. Not to mention she’d existed her entire adult life for this destiny. No one would get in her way.

Ignoring the audience of onlookers, Gabrielle strode up to the bar and propped against its worn smooth top. “You speak English?” she asked of the man drying glasses behind the bar. He was sixty if he was a day.

“Sí. What is your pleasure, señorita?”

The dingy apron scarcely reached around his considerable girth. His thick dark hair gleamed with the slightest peppering of gray. The wide mustache made her think of old Western movies and the commancheros depicted through clichés exactly like this guy.

“Tequila.”

“Sí.”

He set a tumbler on the bar then filled it without once taking his scrutinizing gaze off her.

Like the others scattered around the room, the bartender would be not only suspicious, but also curious as to her business in town. Tourists were easy to spot. Those watching her had probably figured out by now that she was not a tourist. No mere tourist would stumble into a place like this without running like hell to get right back out the swinging door.

“You come for Cinco de Mayo?” The bartender set the bottle of tequila aside and studied her even more closely as he waited for her response.

Gabrielle downed the shot, relishing the hot burn as it slithered like a wildfire down her throat. “No.” She didn’t see the point in lying. She wasn’t here for any sort of festival. She was here for Sloan. “I’m looking for someone.”

The old man reached for another freshly washed glass and slowly turned it in his hands, wiping away the moisture from its recent rinsing.

Gabrielle tapped her glass to prompt the pouring of another shot. “His name is Sloan. Trevor Sloan. Have you heard of him?”

The bartender tensed noticeably as the tequila splashed into the glass. He shook his head. “I do not know of this man.”

She knew he lied. She’d asked around and though only one person had admitted to recognizing the name Sloan, the woman had told Gabrielle to ask at this cantina.

Gabrielle cradled the glass for a moment before indulging her thirst. When it came to good tequila, one shot was never enough. “That’s not the way I heard it.” She stared directly into the man’s eyes, let him see her unyielding determination. “I understand you know him quite well.”

He slung the drying cloth over his shoulder, shelved the clean glass behind him, before leaning across the bar toward her. “What is your business with Mr. Sloan?” he inquired quietly, as if it was not safe to speak of the subject in public. The suspicion in his eyes had evolved into something along the lines of anger.

Gabrielle wasn’t intimidated. She inclined her head and met that lethal glare head-on. “It’s personal.”

His gaze narrowed. “Personal can be dangerous, señorita.”

She smiled; the reflection captured in the mirror behind the bar wasn’t pleasant, she noted in her peripheral vision. Good. She wanted him to know she didn’t like his games. “You’ll either tell me where I can find him, or you won’t. But don’t waste my time, señor.” She said the last with a warning tone of her own.

Sloan had obviously made himself a few friends in town. Or, maybe, they were all afraid of him. She didn’t really care which it was, she simply wanted an answer to her question.

How the hell did she find him if she couldn’t get anyone to talk?

The file she’d taken from the Colby Agency hadn’t given his specific address, just the general vicinity. She’d spent twenty-four hours checking out the surrounding area with no luck at all. Flat-out asking about his whereabouts carried a significant risk, but she was tired of wasting her time. She needed a location. Now. Today. No more playing hide-and-seek. Not to mention someone at the Colby Agency would likely warn Sloan the moment her breach was discovered. Time was not on her side.

The bartender turned his back on her and went about the business of checking his stock of liquors.

Gabrielle swore under her breath. Another dead end. There had to be someone around here willing to give her a location.

“What do I owe you?” No point hanging around in this seedy joint and killing more time. He’d made his decision and she wasn’t going to change his mind.

The bartender shifted slightly, just far enough to make eye contact with her. “You owe me nothing.”

Nothing? What was the deal with this guy? She reached into the pocket of her jeans and dragged out an adequate number of pesos. Whatever this guy’s problem, she wasn’t about to leave owing him a damned thing. She slapped the money on the bar. “That should do it.”

He glanced at the payment then at her. “Your money is no good here, señorita.”

Now she was plain old ticked off. “Why the hell not?”

He faced her squarely, braced his hands on the counter and looked deeply into her eyes, his intent unreadable. “I do not accept payment from the dead.”

Never one to squander her hard-earned cash, Gabrielle snatched up the money and walked out. She didn’t spare a glance for any of the scumbags staring after her. To hell with all of them. She wasn’t beaten yet.

All she had to do was to stick with it. In her experience, patience and persistence paid off. She would find Sloan. Maybe not today. But soon.

And then she would kill him.

Just like she’d dreamed of for three long years.

Some girls fantasized about their first date or their first kiss, maybe the first prom. Not Gabrielle. Ever since she’d been old enough to understand what betrayal and murder really meant, she’d dreamed of finding her father’s killer and having her revenge.

She’d survived a childhood in pure hell, with a drunken mother who had given her just one thing: the understanding of why her life had stunk from the moment she’d been born.

Gabrielle’s father had been a special investigator for the State Department. He’d traveled extensively, hadn’t even been there when his only daughter was born. His work had turned particularly ugly, forcing him to, in effect, abandon his only child, to protect her. But he’d called, her mother had insisted, once in a great while when it was safe. If he’d ever sent money, Gabrielle’s mother had blown it on booze.

And then, just before Gabrielle’s eighteenth birthday, the calls had stopped, according to her mother. It wasn’t until she’d graduated high school a few months later and was poised to enter college on an academic scholarship that Gabrielle had learned the truth of what happened. An old enemy had murdered her father. The State Department had disowned him. The newspapers had called him an assassin, a cold-blooded killer. Gabrielle hadn’t needed her mother’s pathetic ramblings to know what that meant. She remembered watching a television interview once about a man who had given his all to his country and then been abandoned to cover their involvement in certain activities. Her father had deserved better. So had she.

Her mother had fallen even more deeply into her depressive state and then promptly proceeded to drink herself to death, literally. Gabrielle had buried her the day before she’d been supposed to head for college. She’d realized something painful as shovel full after shovel full of dirt had been tossed atop her mother’s cheap coffin. She was alone. Completely alone. That was when the need for vengeance had begun to eat at her like a rapidly spreading disease.

She’d gone off to college as planned, but sticking to that hard-earned and long-awaited agenda for her future had fallen by the wayside as she’d formed a new goal. Obsessed about it really.

Find her father’s killer and make him pay.

Her new goal hadn’t actually formulated so clearly or easily…at least not at first. She’d tried to put the past behind her. She’d truly attempted to focus on her studies but luck had, apparently, been against her all along. She hadn’t made encouraging friends. The only acceptance she had found was with those who’d grown up much as she had, with absent or pathetic excuses for parents and a lack of funds. Maybe that was the reason her bitterness had taken such deep roots. Her mother’s words had haunted her and her new friends’ cynicism had nurtured her growing hatred for the raw deal life had dealt her.

Thus her new determination had been born. Make the man responsible for her final kick in the teeth pay.

As far as Gabrielle was concerned, the man, Sloan, was responsible not only for her father’s death, but for her mother’s, as well. Not that her mother had ever been much of a parent, but she’d been all Gabrielle had in the world. Sloan had taken that away from her.

Gabrielle doubted she would survive the coming face-off to get on with her life, but maybe that was her true destiny. This business would have been finished two years ago if she hadn’t been framed by a so-called friend. She’d spent eighteen months doing time for someone else’s stupidity. She’d tried to fight it at first, but with no money and her only legal counsel having been assigned by the court, she’d pretty much been screwed from the outset. So, she’d sucked it up and done the time. Used it as a learning experience, a chance to hone her focus. If she could survive prison, she could do this. No problema.

All she had to do was find the bastard known as Sloan.

Someone around here would slip up and give her the information she needed. She wouldn’t give up until she had the information she needed.

Both her mother and her father had allowed life to get in the way of a decent relationship with their daughter. Their combined shortfalls had forged a strength in her that was relentless. One she hadn’t recognized herself until a few months ago. She would not allow anything to get in her way. She wanted to do something right just once. And this would be it.

Sloan was dead already.

He just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Two

A.J. Braddock had worked at the Colby Agency a short time, but during that brief stint he had learned many things. For one, Victoria Colby-Camp never misread a client. She hired only the very best in the business of private investigations and her ability to make things happen was uncanny.

But in the past twenty-four hours everything had changed.

Gabrielle Jordan, aka Gabrielle Hanson, had fooled everyone, including the invincible Victoria.

The twenty-two-year-old woman had hired on as a new recruit, had performed exceedingly well during her short training, and then promptly disappeared, with a sensitive Colby Agency file in tow.

Whatever the young lady’s story, she was in serious trouble. Not with the authorities, A.J. considered, but with Victoria. No one double-crossed the head of the Colby Agency and got off scot-free. No. Victoria would make this right if it was the last thing she did. That was the other thing about his boss that A.J. admired so, she was fiercely determined.

An emergency meeting of the staff had been held a few hours ago and A.J. had been appointed the task of tracking down Gabrielle Jordan and bringing her back to face Victoria.

Several others, Simon Ruhl and Ian Michaels included, had wanted the assignment but, using her usual astute judgment, Victoria had recognized the need for total objectivity.

The way A.J. understood the situation, most everyone at the Colby Agency knew Trevor Sloan, or at least had been living with tales of his legendary story for years. To that end, all concerned felt extremely loyal to the man and would do whatever necessary to see that he suffered no additional drama in his life.

Trevor Sloan had lost one family, had almost given up on life in general, when a woman and her son resurrected him. Sloan had not only found love again, but he had also discovered that the son he’d thought long dead was, in fact, alive and well. Victoria would allow nothing to interfere with Sloan’s newfound happiness.

However, in typical fashion, the boss also understood that Gabrielle Jordan had a story of her own. Once she broke her cover, it didn’t take the agency long to get the story on her. The young woman deserved the opportunity to know the full truth and to resume her life without the bitter, ugly baggage of the past.

In A.J.’s opinion, Gabrielle Jordan needed a wakeup call—Marine style. But first and foremost, he had to find her and stop her emotionally charged plunge into self-destruction.

Trevor Sloan was no one to mess with. He’d been to hell and back a couple of times and he likely had no desire to return. He wouldn’t let anyone threaten his new family or his hard-earned happiness.

A.J. felt confident he could handle the situation. He’d worked closely with the new recruits Victoria had hired last month. Todd Thompson had proven his worth on the job. His ambitiousness had, at times, been tedious, but he’d come through in the end. Victoria had chosen well.

Gabrielle had actually been the one A.J. had assumed would stand out from the small herd of new recruits. She’d proven resourceful, dedicated and anxious to make her place here at the Colby Agency.

If he was entirely honest with himself, he’d admit that she had earned more than his professional respect. He’d been attracted to her from day one. How could he not be? Gabrielle had a fire in her that burned with such heat he couldn’t help being drawn to her. She wanted to learn, wanted to be the best. He’d admired those qualities.

Her beauty hadn’t helped the situation. Ignoring how gorgeous she was would have been completely outside the realm of reason. Long black hair, gray eyes that reminded him of glittering silver in the sunlight.

Not once had he allowed their time together to move beyond the bounds of a working relationship. He knew better. The military had long ago drilled that rule into his head. Fraternization was against the rules.

He’d figured he would get past the little infatuation. Hell, he hadn’t been involved with anyone in too long to talk about. He should have seen this one coming, but he hadn’t. Now, here he was, charged with the duty of going after her and bringing her back.

He could do it. And maybe it was better this way. Those weaker emotions, the ones he attempted to keep in check, likely needed this lesson in futility. He had to remember where he stood in the grand scheme of things. He could not permit close personal relationships. It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand the situation.

All he had to do was to remember the deal—like it or not.

As the door to Victoria’s office opened, A.J. stood to greet the woman herself. He booted all other lingering thoughts from his head and focused on the realities. He had a job to do. End of story.

“Good evening, A.J.” She smiled. “Please, sit.”

As she strode around her desk to her own chair he noted that she looked as elegant and calm as ever. One would never know that the agency was in the middle of a major crisis.

He settled back into his chair as she did into her own. “I’m ready to leave immediately. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging air as well as ground transportation. My flight leaves in three hours.” It was the earliest flight he could get with one stop too many, but it was better than waiting until tomorrow.

“I appreciate your preparedness, A.J. But let’s have Elaine cancel your arrangements for the sake of time and convenience. The agency jet will take you to a private airfield near Florescitaf where ground transportation will be waiting.”

Surprised, A.J. acknowledged the change with a nod. “Outstanding. I can be ready within the hour.” He wasn’t going to argue with private transport. He just hadn’t expected to be allowed such a privilege. His experience in the Marines was that only those who had achieved a certain level and paid their dues were permitted the most advantageous perks. He had to remember that the private sector did things a little differently. It would take some getting used to. Elaine, the agency’s receptionist, would take good care of him.

Victoria passed a manila folder across her desk to him. “Your mission is fairly straightforward, as you know. Find her and bring her back. She won’t like it, but if she wishes to avoid official charges, she will be cooperative.”

The file contained all the pertinent information the agency had on Gabrielle, which wasn’t that much, but it was enough background for A.J.’s needs. He already knew her, understood how she thought to a degree.

He closed the folder and fixed his gaze on the woman waiting for any questions. “I need to understand just how far you want me to go in order to stop Miss Jordan’s plans for vengeance.” In spite of his efforts, he found himself failing to breathe as he waited for her response.

Victoria held his gaze for several seconds before answering. During that time he saw a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. That surprised him. He’d never once known her to waiver, would have wagered against it. He couldn’t tell if her hesitation was a good thing or a bad one as far as Gabrielle’s fate was concerned.

“Miss Jordan is operating under many misconceptions that make her judgment unreliable. My preference would be for you to intervene and, without significant incident, bring her back here.” She paused a moment, seemed to drag up her courage. “However, preventing her from reaching Sloan and his family is priority one.”

Her expression turned grave as she went on. “If she reaches him, her fate is out of our hands. I would prefer that didn’t happen. I’ve tried without success to contact Sloan or his household helper Pablo. If we’re lucky, he and his family are away. But he could return any moment.” Victoria pressed A.J. with a look that conveyed a great deal more than her words. “I need you to do whatever it takes, A.J. We have to stop this train crash before it happens, if at all possible.”

The decision was made. He had his orders. Personal feelings had no place beyond this point.

“I understand. I won’t use excessive force unless absolutely necessary, but I won’t hesitate should the need arise.”

Victoria nodded. “We’re in agreement then.”

“I’ll report in as often as possible.” He pushed to his feet.

“We’ll keep you posted with any information we gather on this end.”

A.J. nodded once before turning to the door. Every second he wasted was one that might cost Gabrielle Jordan far more than she wanted to pay. That was one way in which he could help her in all this.

“One last thing, A.J.”

He hesitated at the door and faced Victoria again. “Yes?”

She stood behind her desk, that atypical uncertainty haunting her expression once more. “You’re certain you feel comfortable with this?”

He wasn’t entirely surprised by her question. It pained her to ask. That much was clear. Also very clear was her reasoning, elaborating was in no way necessary. “I’m one hundred percent certain, ma’am.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded once, banishing the uncertainty he’d seen in her expression. “Very well then. Based on your experience and your objectivity in the matter, I am of the opinion that you are the best man for the job. However, if you feel the need for backup, all it takes is one call. I’ll leave that to your discretion.”

“I understand.”

“Of course it will be best if I can contact Sloan ahead of your arrival,” she went on, apparently only then deciding to mention this part. “In the event that doesn’t work out, tell him that I’m trusting him to do the right thing on this. Even pure evil can occasionally spawn something good. He’ll know what I mean.”

A.J. left Victoria’s office with only a vague idea what her message to Sloan meant, but he felt no need to question her orders. He had learned well from his career in the military that there were times when a soldier didn’t need to know every detail about a mission. He simply needed the know-how and the determination to carry out the assignment.

Knowledge was a very powerful tool, no doubt. But, at times, knowledge could be a stumbling block to achieving the greater good.

This was one of those situations.

He appreciated that Victoria practiced what she preached. She had complete faith in his ability to get the job done. To his relief, much of that faith was based on his word. He strongly believed that a man was only as good as his word. It pleased him that his new employer shared that belief.

Just another reason he couldn’t allow any personal feelings he’d foolishly allowed to develop to get in his way of doing his job. He needed his work, needed that kind of focus in his life. There wasn’t room for anything else. Not anymore. He had to keep that truth in mind and stop permitting wishful thinking from overriding good sense.

A.J. considered his plan of action as he stopped by his town house for his bags and drove to the airfield where the Colby Agency jet would be waiting.

Picking up Jordan’s trail wouldn’t be difficult. Florescitaf was a small village and an attractive young urban woman would stand out. Since she didn’t know the location of Sloan’s private residence, she would have to ask questions or go on a grid search of the surrounding area. Either way would be time-consuming as well as risky as far as keeping a low profile.

Once on board the agency jet, he used his time to brush up on his Spanish. He hadn’t used the language in ages, but getting his point across wouldn’t be difficult. An hour later he felt confident with his spotty vocabulary so he took some time to consider his target.

Gabrielle Jordan was very young, only twenty-two. She’d spent eighteen months of that young life in prison. The first six months of that time she’d made a fuss about being innocent, including writing several appeals herself, none of which were taken seriously by her court-appointed attorney. So she’d shut up and done her time.

She’d gotten out only a few months before applying for a job at the Colby Agency. Her ability to create a false identity was commendable if misguided. She hadn’t missed a trick. Case in point, she’d fooled one of the top private investigation agencies in the country.

He had to smile. The woman had herself some real brass ones, that was for sure. He closed the door on that line of thinking. From what they’d learned in the past twenty-four hours, she was the only child of an alcoholic mother who claimed Gabriel DiCassi as the child’s father. DiCassi had been Trevor Sloan’s arch enemy and an international assassin. A standoff between the two men had ended in DiCassi’s death.

Apparently, Gabrielle held Sloan responsible for her father’s death. Victoria had estimated, based on comments Jordan had made to coworkers at the agency, that she believed her father to have been a great man. She’d spoken highly of him and her wistfulness related to his death had been apparent during those conversations. Of course she hadn’t once mentioned his name. Now she was apparently out for revenge.

A.J. closed the folder and relaxed into the aircraft’s luxurious leather seat a little more deeply. He found it difficult to understand how a parent could lie to their child, or neglect their offspring for that matter. By all accounts, Gabrielle fell smack into the category of the abused and neglected. That sort of childhood twisted a person’s thinking. He could only imagine how it felt to have no one in the world to depend on. He wondered if that was the reason she’d worked so hard to be the absolute best she could be. She’d had no one to count on but herself.

Though his father had been a strong disciplinarian, A.J.’s formative years had included a secure and loving environment. He’d earned his hard knocks as a military man. He’d jumped in at age seventeen and then spent the next fifteen years proving what he was really made of. An injury and the life-threatening infection that followed during his time in Afghanistan had ended that career. He didn’t talk about it. He shifted in his seat. Victoria was the only person at the agency who knew about it. His physical shortcoming prevented him from future military service, but it didn’t stop him from being a damned good investigator.

Being chosen by Victoria Colby-Camp as one of only a few new hires was proof enough.

A.J. Braddock wasn’t down for the count by a long shot. He still had some good years in front of him.

With his experience in the desolate mountains of Afghanistan, tracking one misguided young woman in Mexico would be a piece of cake. He would not fail in this mission. Victoria was counting on him. And he needed his work at the Colby Agency to give him something to look forward to, to hang on to. He wasn’t ready to give up on being all he could be. No matter what the doctors said.

He wasn’t dead yet.

Chapter Three

The Sierra Madre mountains, washed in green forest, jutted upward around the desolation of the desert and were a sharp contrast to all that surrounded it. The desert scrub and cacti of the expansive terrain she’d traveled for miles after leaving the village had given way to the rugged landscape at the foothills of the mountains, but the Jeep she’d rented had handled the drive easily.

Her patience and persistence had paid off. A kid, maybe twelve or thirteen, who’d made a delivery to the Sloan residence from the local market had given her directions.

For a price.

She hadn’t haggled with him. At least, not once she’d seen a sort of kindred soul in his eyes. This kid hadn’t needed any more grief in his life. From what Gabrielle had deciphered from the conversation, his mother was ill and he drove the broken-down truck his father had left behind when he’d deserted the family years ago. The kid helped put food on the table for his three brothers and sisters.

Life sucked that way all too often, Gabrielle decided. But the kid…he reminded her of herself. He wouldn’t let it get him down. Instead he’d do what he had to. No matter the personal cost.

She focused a little more closely on the house in the distance. She’d decided that getting too close without sizing up the situation wouldn’t be a smart move. Instead she’d driven around it, parked at the base of the mountains and then climbed for a while. Just long enough to find a decent position for scouting out the property.

“Some digs,” she muttered as she surveyed the massive residence once more.

A fortress. A ten- or twelve-foot wall completely surrounded the property, which included a monstrosity of a house and sizable grounds, as well. A large iron gate allowed entrance from the front, if one possessed the proper credentials. Probably a numeric code at the very least. Another gate provided a secondary exit at the rear of the property. She could see a pool and what could be a detached garage or rather large workshop. The stuccoed exterior and red-tiled roof of the main house gave the place a rustic Southwestern style.

Apparently murder paid well.

Fury boiled up inside Gabrielle, but she wrestled it aside. She had to stay focused. Losing her temper or having an emotional outburst would be detrimental to that task.

No vehicles were in view. She supposed they were parked in the garage. In the past half hour she hadn’t noted any activity period.

Getting onto the grounds wouldn’t be easy. She’d definitely have to wait for the cover of darkness to attempt any sort of move. Even then—she scanned the rear gate once more—security might include motion sensors. But that was a risk she’d just have to take.

Movement beyond the front of the property snagged her attention and she focused her binoculars to check out the vehicle approaching from the road that led to town.

Her heart rate bumped up a notch. This could be him. This could be Sloan.

The vehicle stopped at the gate. A truck. Full size. Maybe four-wheel drive judging by how high the chassis sat off the ground.

A man, dark hair, dark complexion, entered a code into the keypad. Not Sloan, Gabrielle decided. He had blondish hair and this guy looked like a native of the country versus just a guy with a deep tan.

As she watched, a woman in the passenger seat leaned past the driver and pressed her thumb to some part of the security keypad device.

Fingerprint analysis. Oh, yeah, Gabrielle had known security would be tight.

The gate opened and the truck rolled forward to park directly in front of the main entrance to the house. Before the two passengers were out of the vehicle, the gate had closed securely back into place.

If Gabrielle waited until the visitors left, she might be able to slip through the gate as it closed. It would be dark soon. She glanced at the setting sun. That might work. But she would need to get into position right away. Who knew how long these people would stay or whether or not they were permanent residents? They could be the hired help. The kid from the market had mentioned there was a man who helped around the house.

Gabrielle started to put her binoculars away and get to her feet, but new movement near the house stopped her.

What the hell?

She peered through the binoculars, hardly believing her eyes.

Two boys, one small, nine or ten maybe, another thirteen or older considering his manlike features, ran out of the house and toward the rear gate. Another man, this one much older and clearly Mexican with slight features, hurried after them.

The older man abruptly fell forward onto the stone courtyard. The driver of the truck rushed up to him. Shot the old man twice in the back.

Gabrielle jerked with each sound that echoed against the mountains around her. She scrambled to her feet, almost falling in the process.

“What the hell are they doing?”

The woman, the passenger from the truck, rushed up to the man with the gun. She appeared to be screaming at him. She, too, looked like a local. Dark hair, dark skin. Young.

The man with the gun grabbed her by the throat and said something to her. Something brutal, considering the cruel twist of his face. And then he ran after the boys.

Gabrielle tracked the course of the kids. They had made it through the rear gate but the man was gaining on them fast. Surely he wouldn’t…

Her gaze swung back to the woman who was now kneeling next to the old man. The woman cried and rocked back and forth as if she’d just lost a loved one.

Gabrielle’s attention shifted back to the kids. The older one was giving the guy with the gun a run for his money but the smaller boy…

“Damn.”

The guy had the little kid.

Adrenaline seared through Gabrielle’s veins. Her business here involved Sloan and only Sloan. Whatever the hell was going on with these kids was none of her concern. But she damn well couldn’t stand here and watch some bastard hurt a kid. No way.

She tore out down the mountainside, careful to take the route she’d chosen on her ascent. The daylight was waning and she didn’t want to risk falling.

By the time she’d reached her vehicle the man had rousted the two boys back through the rear gate, but he hadn’t closed it. Cocky bastard.

Gabrielle jumped into the Jeep and drove as close to the house as she dared for fear of being heard. She bounded out of the vehicle and crept covertly onto the property.

Even before she’d edged up to the corner of the building she’d assumed might be a garage she heard the man with the gun ranting at his captives as well as his partner in crime.

“Tell me when your father will call!” he screamed, simultaneously ramming the muzzle of the weapon into the older boy’s skull.

The boy told the man to go screw himself and Gabrielle couldn’t resist a smile. “You tell him, kid,” she muttered under her breath.

“Maybe I’ll just kill you now, smart boy!” the killer warned.

“No!” the woman cried, only then moving away from the downed man. “You promised no one would die. What are you doing, Manuel? I don’t understand!”

Gabrielle shook her head. Women could be so stupid when they were in love. She braced herself to take down the bastard with the gun.

She’d been training for a moment like this for weeks. She was the best in her class back at the firing range in nowhere Montana.

The sound of a weapon discharging exploded in the air.

Gabrielle’s mouth dropped open and it was all she could do not to scream.

He’d killed her.

The man with the gun had shot his girlfriend.

He ordered the boys to get into his truck.

For ten, maybe twenty seconds, Gabrielle couldn’t move. Her body felt paralyzed by what she’d seen. None of her training had adequately prepared her for this.

By the time she’d pulled it back together. the truck was driving out through the front gate.

She swore and rushed toward the two downed victims.

The man was dead for sure.

The woman gurgled and frantically flung one arm.

Damn.

Gabrielle surveyed the damage. The bullet hole in her abdomen was pouring blood. The one in her chest was a little too far to the right to have hit her heart, but maybe a lung. Gabrielle shook her head. How the hell did she know?

She needed help.

How did she get an ambulance way out here?

Her gaze zeroed in on the blood pooling on the ground around the woman’s waist. Gabrielle swallowed hard. This girl wasn’t going to make it.

Gabrielle pressed her left hand over the gut wound since it appeared to be the worst and tried to staunch the flow. “How do I call for help?” she asked the woman who still writhed desperately.

A dark brown gaze collided with Gabrielle’s. “Stop…him…” The words were scarcely a breath of choking sound.

Gabrielle glanced toward the gate. “I don’t…”

Icy fingers wrapped around her wrist with surprising strength. Gabrielle’s gaze jerked back to the woman.

“I am…dying…” she gasped. “Help…the children.”

Her voice was barely audible now.

What did she do? Let the woman die or go after the children?

Gabrielle’s heart pounded so fiercely she couldn’t think.

“Take the…chi-children and hide…”

“What?” Hide? Panic tightened around Gabrielle’s chest. What did she mean hide?

The woman’s mouth worked but no words came out.

“Oh, God.” Gabrielle lowered her head closer to the woman’s face. Strained to make out her words. “I don’t understand. What do you want me to do?”

“Hide…the children…more bad men will come…”

Gabrielle reared back at the warning. “Your friend isn’t alone in this?”

“…many more will come…”

The woman stilled. Her eyes lost their desperate appeal.

Gabrielle’s breath caught. She stared at the wounds that still oozed blood, but the force was much less now.

“Look, lady, I don’t know—”

The woman remained completely, unnervingly still.

Gabrielle felt for a pulse. Nothing. Damn! She tried to get the woman’s heart beating again, but it was no use.

The kids.

Dammit all to hell.

Gabrielle glanced at the gate, then back at the woman.

Someone had to save those kids.

There was no one but her.

Without taking a moment to second-guess herself, she bolted toward her Jeep.

If Sloan’s residence was tied in with any kind of security monitoring system then maybe help was already on the way. It was too late for those two, but someone needed to know what had happened here.

One thing was certain, if Gabrielle was going to catch up with the son of a bitch who had the kids, she had to move fast. She jumped behind the wheel of her Jeep, wiped her bloody hands on a T-shirt lying on the passenger seat and twisted the key in the ignition.

The motor started and she released the clutch, allowing the vehicle to lurch forward. She sped out over the sandy landscape, dust flying behind her. But that was good because it was flying behind the other guy, too, and that was the only chance she had of keeping him in sight.

The sun had almost completely set, leaving only the thinnest purple hues reaching across the barren desert in front of her.

She couldn’t turn on her headlights. She needed to get close enough to shoot out this jerk’s tires before he noticed her approach.

She would figure out what to do next after that.

Chapter Four

Gabrielle slammed on the brakes.

The Jeep skidded to a halt and she bailed out.

Feet wide apart, she took aim. Her heart hammered against her sternum but she ignored it. She stared down the barrel of her 9 mm at the rear tire of the kidnapper’s vehicle. Told herself she could do this. Her forefinger instinctively curled around the trigger.

The truck abruptly swerved and slid to a halt.

Gabrielle swore, adjusted her aim. Dammit, the truck was stopped with the passenger side facing in her direction. She could make out one of the kids….

The shooter registered in the corner of her eye a split second before she dove for the ground.

A series of explosions rent the air. Bullets plowed into the sand a few inches from her head.

She rolled. Took aim again.

A smile curled the corners of her mouth.

“Gotcha.” She fired.

The man screamed and scrambled out of sight behind the vehicle.

“Dumb bastard.”

A spray of bullets pelted the sand around her. She lunged for the cover of her Jeep. She’d been able to see some part of one leg beneath the truck. She’d hit him. Probably hurt like hell, but he wasn’t dead by a long shot.

She studied the truck, except she couldn’t see anything now. No movement whatsoever. “Damn.” He had her at a distinct disadvantage. She couldn’t shoot anywhere near the cab for fear of hitting one of the kids.

Where the hell was he?

He was still behind the truck…evidently using the tires for additional cover since she couldn’t see any part of his lower anatomy beneath the vehicle chassis.

Gabrielle scanned the darkening landscape beyond the truck. Help didn’t appear to be coming. Worse, the dying woman had said others would come. Friends of the jerk currently exchanging lead with her.

She couldn’t just lay here and wait to see what happened. She had to make a move.

Screaming from inside the truck cab abruptly snagged her attention. What now?

She heard the shooter yell at the kids to shut up. Gabrielle’s nerves jangled. If he started shooting at those kids…surely he wouldn’t do that. He’d obviously had some reason for wanting to kidnap them, would likely need them alive for that purpose.

Gabrielle took a moment to find calm. Staying alive required slowing the blood roaring through her ears. It meant being aware of the other guy at all times and not letting her emotions take control.

The sound of wailing jerked her into forward motion. More arguing between the man and one of the boys. She had to try to reach the rear end of the truck while he was distracted.

Too late.

She didn’t have to see the bullets pelting the sand, the echoing sound of the weapon firing was enough. He was laying down ground fire in an attempt to hit her or to force her away from her destination. She dove for the ground.

The truck horn blared to life. The gunshots stopped. Screaming and cursing followed.

Gabrielle scrambled to her feet and reached the side of the truck, hunkered by the tire to listen. The man still ranted at the older boy. Gabrielle decided the boy had laid down on the horn to distract the bastard or to annoy him. Either way, she’d have to thank him later.

Abrupt silence warned her that her enemy had figured out her latest move.

She held her breath. Listened…leaned down to see if there was any sign of his feet and legs.

Nothing.

He had to be crouched on the other side of the rear driver’s side tire. Less than a dozen feet away.

The proverbial Mexican standoff. How ironic.

A thud had her fingers tightening on her weapon.

She listened intently.

Nothing.

She couldn’t just continue to crouch here until he came around the end of the truck after her. But then he could be waiting for her to make exactly that kind of move. Evidently was.

Still no sound. No movement.

Damn. What the hell did she do now? Her mini weapons training course hadn’t included anything like this.

She looked under the truck again. Couldn’t see a damned thing.

Hovering here and waiting for him to come after her was driving her nuts. She had to move.

She eased quietly toward the end of the truck. Stalled there to listen.

Not a sound.

She peeked beneath the truck, but couldn’t see a thing in the deepening gloom. Hell, he could be waiting for dark. The sun had already dropped behind the mountains, leaving only a faint glow reaching across the desert.

That thought propelled her into action. She moved around the end of the truck, to the far side of the tailgate. Steeled herself. Then risked a look beyond the corner…

The shooter was on the ground. Not moving.

Gabrielle frowned. She definitely hadn’t gotten in a lethal hit.

His weapon was still in his hand, but he made no move to aim it toward her. Then she saw the reason for his motionlessness. Blood. Or what was likely blood. The sand around his lower body was dark with it.

Considering his eyes were still open and he hadn’t blinked, she figured he was dead or damned close.

She darted to his position and kicked his gun away from his hand. He didn’t move.

He’d been crouched near the tire as she had suspected. Looked as if he’d simply fallen over. Why had he bled so profusely?

She looked for the entry wound where she’d hit him, but it was difficult to see in the near darkness. Instead she looked for where the blood appeared to start on his clothing. Left thigh area.

Then she knew. There was an artery in that general area. She couldn’t remember what it was called or exactly where it was, but apparently she’d hit it.

And he’d bled to death before he’d realized how badly he was wounded.

Damned lucky for her.

“Get us out of here!”

Her gaze swung to the truck and the older boy’s face. He peered out the rear window now.

The two must have hunkered in the floor after the horn-blowing incident. Otherwise they could have seen the man lying on his side in the sand.

Gabrielle hurried to the driver’s side door and wrenched it open.

“Hurry, lady!” the older boy demanded. “He was meeting his friends. They’ll know something has gone wrong and head this way soon!”

“Give me a minute,” Gabrielle snapped. Ungrateful kid. Didn’t he realize she’d just saved his butt?

The boys’ hands were chained together. The end of the chain was also bound to the bottom of the front seat. No way he’d reached that horn with his hand. He must have done it with his foot. The console between the front bucket seats would have allowed for a reach like that.

“I’ll need the key,” she said as she picked through the stuff in the console. The key in the ignition was alone on its ring. Shooting the chain to break it might work in the movies but she wasn’t going to risk it under the circumstances.

“It’s in his pocket,” the older kid said. “Hurry!”

She rushed back to where the guy lay on the ground and crouched next to him. The gun had been in his right hand so that made him right-handed. The key would likely be in that pocket, which meant rolling him over.

Touching a dead guy ranked really low on her list of things to do in life. Unless it was Sloan, she amended. But the situation sorely limited her options.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, she rolled him onto his back. She shuddered but didn’t hesitate to pilfer through his right pocket. Her fingers encountered cool metal and then curled around a single key. She tugged it out of his tattered jeans and rushed back to the truck without allowing her gaze to linger on the dead guy.

“Hurry!” the older boy shouted.

She scowled at him, her fingers poised on the lock. “I’m doing the best I can. You wanna give it a rest?”

He scowled right back at her. The ingrate.

The chains fell away and she ushered them out of the truck’s back seat. “Get in my Jeep,” she ordered.

The older boy, who was at least a couple inches taller than her, glared down at her. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Before she could answer, the little boy slammed against his brother’s side and started to cry hard. He’d evidently gotten a look at the dead man on the ground and then launched himself at his older brother.

“Just shut up and let’s get out of here,” she snapped at the older boy who still glowered at her.

She stomped off in the direction of her Jeep. It wasn’t necessary to turn around and make sure they were following. She knew they were. She could hear the younger boy’s hiccuping sobs.

It was a shame the kid had to see the dead guy, but it couldn’t be helped.

When they’d loaded into her Jeep, the smaller boy in the back seat, she and the older one up front, she started the engine.

“Better head for the mountains,” the older one told her, his voice somewhat calmer now if not friendlier.

Gabrielle shoved the gearshift into first. “Why the mountains? Why not into town? To the police?”

Their gazes met across the narrow expanse of darkness that separated them in the Jeep’s cramped interior. She didn’t need to see his eyes well to recognize the intensity there, his voice told her all she needed to know.

“They’ll be coming from that direction. You don’t want to run into them. We need to hide. There’s only once place we can go where they won’t find us.”

“The mountains, right?” she said, wondering vaguely how the hell she’d gotten caught up in this insanity.

“I know a place where we’ll be safe. My father said if anything ever went wrong when he was away that we should go there.”

She let off the clutch and the Jeep shot forward. “I hope you know the way.” It wasn’t as though she was from around here. She hated to break that newsflash to him, but there was no point beating around the bush. If more of those bastards were headed this way, they had to make a definite decision on which way they were going and the kid wasn’t being exactly specific.

“I know the way,” he said, a kind of resigned determination in his voice. “You just drop us off at the foot of the mountain and let me borrow your gun and we’ll be fine.”

Yeah, right. “I don’t think so, pal.” Did he think she was stupid? She’d need this weapon to get back out of here. Maybe she should have taken the dead guy’s gun for backup, but she hadn’t thought of it until now.

“Then you can just drop us off and be on your way,” he snarled, but his hateful tone fell a little short. His voice quavered ever so slightly.

“I can do that,” she retorted, refusing to let the idea that he was probably scared to death get to her. The sooner they were out of her hair, the better she’d like it. She was no babysitter. She damned sure wasn’t going to see after kids who most likely belonged to her enemy. Not that the kids deserved to be hurt because their father was a murdering lowlife, but it wasn’t her place to do any more for them than she already had. She’d risked her life as it was.

The short journey was made in silence other than the soft sobbing in the back seat. The sound had lessened somewhat but not completely. Poor kid. He’d watched three people die today. It couldn’t be easy on him.

She glanced at the older boy. She couldn’t really see him that well with only the aid of the dim glow from the dash lights. His profile looked hard, his jaw determined. Instead of crying like his little brother, he’d opted to be angry. Not that she could blame him. She didn’t know who the first man to die was or what relationship he had with the boys, but she’d guess a caregiver of some sort.

Irritation twisted inside her. Here she was getting all worried about two kids who were no concern of hers. She had a goal to accomplish. She couldn’t let anything get in her way. Not now. She was too close.

“Stop here.”

She braked to a halt and resisted the impulse to ask for a please. Where were this kid’s manners?

He opened his door and got out, then offered his hand to his brother. When the younger boy had climbed out, the older one hesitated before closing the passenger door.

“Thank you,” he said. His lips trembled once before he bit them together, but she couldn’t have missed it.

As tough as he wanted to appear, he was shaken up pretty badly, as she’d suspected.

“No problem.” She looked out at the darkness. “You take care of yourselves now.”

That was when she made her second mistake of the day. She turned back to the boy and this time it was his eyes that she zeroed in on. Blue eyes. Eyes so intense she couldn’t look away for five or six seconds.

“We’ll be fine,” he assured her in that irreverent teenage tone.

She should have left it at that. But something in the kid’s eyes wouldn’t let her leave them.

“Maybe I’ll just make sure you get where you’re going.” What the hell was wrong with her? Why did she say that?

“Suit yourself.” The door slammed, practically in her face, leaving her sitting there wondering why she wasn’t driving away.

Because she was a fool.

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