Exhaling, he rolled his shoulders again.
A man who’s trying too damned hard to look like he doesn’t care just ends up looking like he does care.
The thought had a proverbial ring to it, but Noah knew it was just because it was true. For the third time in as many minutes, he brought his shoulders up, moved them back, then dropped them down again. This time, he lifted his eyes for good measure. Just a cursory glance in the direction of the park, because the kids’ shouts and laughter had reached a crescendo, and it would’ve been odder not to look. When his gaze came up, though, it didn’t find the source of the fun. Instead, his attention landed on a twenty-something blonde. And it stayed there.
Noah was so engrossed that he just about tripped over his own boots.
It wasn’t so much that she was too pretty to look away from. Though really, in another setting—even in the slightly worn clothes and the battered-looking shoes—she might’ve been. Probably more than pretty, actually. Stunning in a girl-next-door way. Her hair was a perfect shade. Honey. Sunshine. All the good stuff. She was curvy, but short. Just the right height for pressing her head into the chest of a six-foot-four man. Makeup free, full pink lips, high cheekbones... Noah noted all of it. He even had a fleeting moment of wishing he could see the color of her eyes. But it was secondary, because every instinct in his body screamed something more important.
The look on her face.
The tilt of her head.
The quick back and forth of her eyes.
She’s looking for her kid.
The realization hit Noah hard. Old panic—personal panic—rolled through him, and this time, he did trip over his boots. He had to grab hold of the low fence around the playground to steady himself, and a curse nearly slipped out before he could stop it.
An unusual urge to break both his “no kids” and “no unnecessary attention” rules surged up. With that went a need to dash away a third edict—no freebies. Noah held the fence a little tighter, and he was pretty sure his grip was the only thing keeping him from rushing into the park.
Rein it in, Loblaw, he ordered silently. Action over emotion, like always.
It was the code by which he lived. The personal mantra he’d adopted in his teens and held fast to ever since. Except at the current moment, he not only couldn’t act; he couldn’t move at all. His gaze hung on the pretty blonde. He willed the kid to come running out from one of the covered playhouses. Thirty seconds passed. Then forty-five. Except for the odd flick of her eyes, the woman didn’t move. She didn’t even speak.
Why?
Noah knew from experience what an average mom did when she couldn’t find her kid. She called out for her. She asked the other moms in the park if they’d seen her. She gave a panicked description. Checked every child that came even close to matching. Ran around like a crazy person, desperately searching. Not this woman, though.
An explanation popped to the front of his mind. The blonde didn’t want anyone to know she was looking for her kid.
Why? Noah thought again.
Not shame at losing sight of her own child. Not doubt that the kid was missing, either. He could read her face.
So something else.
With his gut churning and his spine tingling, Noah took a slow, subtle look around. Eight moms. Two dads. Two dozen kids, and three dogs. Nothing amiss.
He widened the frame of his search, and that’s when he spotted it. Spotted him. On the next street over—the one behind the park—was a dark-colored sedan. In its passenger seat was a bald-headed man staring far too intently at a newspaper.
In his head, a warning bell rang to life. The long-buried questions floated to the surface.
Did you see anything unusual?
Anyone dressed not for the weather?
Someone who just felt wrong?
A man alone?
Please, Noah. You must have seen something.
Noah couldn’t shake the memories off. He breathed out, and—against both his better judgment and his rules—he let go of the fence and strode right into the playground and straight up to the pretty blonde.
Chapter 2
This isn’t happening. There has to be a logical explanation.
The same two thoughts kept running through Elle’s mind, each time followed by an excuse for Katie’s continued absence.
She’s in that little green house over there.
But even from where she stood, Elle could see that a solitary boy in a blue ball cap was the only person seated at the table inside the structure.
She went to the bathroom.
But Katie would never, ever leave without saying something.
The excuses came faster.
She’s playing with those kids under the trees. She joined the baseball game over there. She’s playing hide-and-seek.
With each new theory, Elle swung her gaze and found no evidence to support her idea. Hope was sliding from view. And yet her brain argued. Pleaded. Insisted.
This.
Isn’t.
Happening.
But her body knew the truth. Panic was a wave under her skin. Fear clouded her vision, and her lips tingled with the terrible reality. She swayed. And she braced for a collapse. Her feet, though, were rooted to the spot, as though someone had poured concrete around her shoes.
She knew what she was supposed to be doing. Calling Katie’s name. Then yelling it. Darting through the park. Flipping from mom to mom to mom, asking if they’d seen her. Finally, acknowledging that she really was gone, then calling the police.
Except she couldn’t do any of that. In her head, she could hear a voice, telling her—low and deadly—what would happen. It was his voice—the man she wouldn’t name, even to herself—and the words were seared into her memory.
I’ll find you both, and when I do, I’ll take her. She’s mine. Rightfully. And you’ll have a choice. You can forget her. Leave her. Or you can come looking...and I’ll kill her. A pause. A light crackle on the phone. But not you. You... I’ll leave alive. That way, you’ll always know whose fault it is that she’s dead.
It was the one time in six years that he’d nearly caught up to them. And it was only a phone call. One that came in the middle of the afternoon, right during Katie’s naptime. Elle had answered quickly, hoping that the unexpected interruption wouldn’t wake the little girl in her toddler bed. She’d anticipated a telemarketer or a wrong number. Anything—anyone—but him. The moment she’d heard his voice, she’d wanted to hang up. But she’d needed to know just how close he was to locating them. The relief that all he’d tracked down was her phone number had been a physical thing. So had the realization that she hadn’t been careful enough.
Elle had grabbed two-year-old Katie, the diaper bag, and nothing else. Not her car, nor a single item of clothing. She’d taken the bus. Seventeen hours. And on the long trip, she’d come up with a new plan. Never stay anywhere longer than three months. Cash jobs, burner phones and no community connections. Nothing traceable. And it had worked.
Until now.
Her head swiveled again. A small part of her brain asked if maybe she should do all those things any normal mother would be doing. The yelling. The police. But a bigger part of her knew that his words had been more than a threat. She had the memories to prove it. There was the singular most terrifying one—the time he’d pulled out his knife and slit a man’s throat, right in front of her. And there were the longer-term scars, too. Mental and physical. The poorly healed broken rib. The burn marks under her left arm. The nightmares that she fought on a nightly basis.
Except it wasn’t herself she was really worried about. She’d endured the abuse for years, and while she’d sworn never to be under his thumb again, she knew just how much she could suffer through. It was Katie she cared about. Katie she had to protect.
Oh, God. Katie.
Ell
e’s throat constricted with fear and worry and all the feelings that hovered under the surface during her day-to-day life. And beside those...the terror that this was her moment of failure. What was she going to do? She truly didn’t know.
She let herself have a moment. She spun, eyes searching the playground for what she knew would turn out to be one more fruitless time. But as she turned in her slow circle, a hand suddenly landed on her arm. It paralyzed her. Not because the grip was hard or rough. If anything, it was gentle. But fright stilled her. And she braced for a threat. A marching order that would undoubtedly lead to her death. And a masculine voice did immediately fill her ear. Only it held a warning instead of a threat.
“You should turn around and pretend you know me,” the strange man said quietly. “Be excited to see me, even. I have a feeling that if you don’t, the gentleman in the car over there—just to your left—is going to follow through on some unpleasant plans for you.” He paused. “If I’m wrong, feel free to kick me in the shins. If I’m right...my name is Noah.”
Elle had no real reason to trust the man attached to the voice. But a quick look to her left told her that he—Noah—was right. About the car, anyway. It was dark colored and out of place.
Is Katie inside?
As soon as she wondered it, Elle knew that the answer was a resounding no. The man who wanted Katie was far too clever for that. Whoever sat in the vehicle was simply there to find her. And to observe her reaction.
Exhaling, she plastered her biggest, most winning smile onto her face. Then she spun, an equally enthusiastic greeting on her tongue.
“Noah! Is that seriously you?” she said. “It feels like it’s been forever!”
She barely had time to process his looks—intimidatingly tall, shaggy, biker-esque hair pulled into a ponytail, and a very attractive, stubble-peppered face—before he yanked her into a thorough hug. He even lifted her off the ground and pressed his lips to her cheekbone.
“Your name?” he murmured.
“Elle,” she whispered back, her voice surprisingly breathless.
“Elle!” he said as he set her down and pulled away. “You look fantastic.”
His eyes did roam over her for a second, but she caught the way they flicked toward the car again before settling on his face. He dragged her in for another hug, his lips brushing her cheek in a second light kiss.
“In case you were wondering... The thing you’re looking for?” he whispered in her ear. “It’s not in that car.”
“Yes,” she breathed back, disturbed to hear Katie referred to as an object, even though she understood that it was a logical precaution. “I figured.”
Noah released her again, his face dominated by a wide smile that didn’t come even close to touching his eyes. “I only have a minute. Work break. But I saw you standing over here, and I couldn’t pass by without saying something. Sit with me to catch up for a few seconds?”
He nodded toward a nearby bench, and as much as Elle wanted to scream that the last thing she wanted to do was to sit still, she nodded. “Sure. I’d love that.”
He guided her to the bench, gestured for her to sit first, then settled in beside her, his denim-clad knee resting against hers as if they knew each other well enough to sit like this often. As he turned his head her way, his mouth stayed easy, his jaw relaxed, his forehead smooth. But when he met her eyes, his near-black irises were so intense that Elle felt physically immobilized by their stare. So, when he leaned forward and brushed back a loose strand of hair from her face, she didn’t move at all. Not even when he stayed so close that she could feel the light heat of his lips as he spoke again.
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on,” he said, his cheerful tone at odds with his words. “And honestly, I don’t want to. But if you’re not going to call the police, I have to assume you have a damn good reason.”
She nodded and managed a smile. “I do.”
“Then here’s what I’ll tell you. Your friend in the car? He’s a lookout of some kind. The person who took your...property...is long gone. Car dude is waiting to see what you’ll do. Understand?”
Every one of his words caused another little stab of fear, but Elle managed—just barely—to hold it in. “Yes.”
“Good. Have you got a phone?”
“Yes,” she repeated.
“Okay,” Noah replied. “You’re going to pretend like I’m giving you my number.”
Elle swallowed, leaned back enough that she could drag out her cell from her pocket, then held out the slim device expectantly. The rough-looking man took it, flipped it his way, and typed into the screen, then handed it back. Elle looked down, and she was surprised to see he’d put an actual phone number into the address book. She’d been anticipating a coded message.
“That’s the number of a friend,” Noah stated. “He’s good at locating stolen property.”
Her pulse jumped, and she bit back another thrum of fright. “Thank you.”
He nodded once, then slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, raising his voice as he did it. “It was fantastic seeing you again, Elle. You’ve got my number now. Don’t forget to use it.”
She blinked up at him, hearing the emphasis behind his last statement. And before she could muster up a response—or even a falsely cheerful goodbye—Noah gave her shoulder a squeeze, then turned and strode away, leaving her alone. With no Katie. A strange man watching her from a car. And an insurmountable fear in her heart.
* * *
Noah could’ve kicked himself. What was he thinking, violating his own rules like that? The park. The kid. Both a recipe for trouble. That wasn’t even factoring in the fresh-faced woman and her palpable fear. Stupid mistake to jump into what was obviously a complicated personal situation. Probably a custody thing.
Yeah, yeah, said an annoying voice in his head. That’s probably all true. But what’s worse? Breaking your arbitrary rules, or leaving that pretty blonde alone back there?
For a second, her big blue eyes hung at the front of his mind. Oddly haunted. Afraid for her kid. And with no one to help her. Yet somehow trusting, too.
You’re being melodramatic, he told himself. You gave her Kirk’s number, and he’s the best there is in the kid-retrieval business.
Although that wasn’t quite true. Noah’s twin sister, Norah, was the actual best in the business. Hell. She ran a real-life reputable hostage negotiation firm. She often worked closely with the police. Her cases were sometimes worked on behalf of high-profile figures. Celebrities. Politicians. Her success rate was phenomenal, too. She was also pricey, rarely took pro bono work and didn’t do parental rights disputes. Oh, and she hadn’t spoken to Noah in close to a year. All in all, offering a referral her way would probably have done more harm than good.
Didn’t make you help the blonde personally, though, did it?
He scoffed at the self-directed guilt trip. It wasn’t that Noah himself didn’t care what happened to the kid or the kid’s mom. Just the opposite, really. He wanted them to be safe. Hence, the referral. Maybe the man was only second best, but he was still a better option than Noah himself. A bounty hunter was not a lawyer or a family counselor.
“And Kirk does a damn fine job,” he muttered.
The weirdest thing about it, though, was that he felt no relief at having handed off the woman to his acquaintance. Elle. Her name—simple but pretty—rolled over a few times in his head. Pleasantly. Worriedly. Was her kid a boy, or a girl? Was this actually a custody thing? Was she on the run from an ex? And most of all...what kind of jerk was he that he knew what’d happened, yet still took off?
Not my circus, not my monkeys, he insisted as he crossed the road.
Still. He had to walk a little faster to resist the urge to turn back. Determined to shake off the unusual—and unwanted—surge of conscience, he dug his hands into his pockets and focused on forward m
omentum. He took the next couple of streets at random, hoping that it would give his mind time to settle. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect. With no clear destination in mind, his brain churned even harder.
Living by a code mattered to Noah. His morals were sound, even if his chosen career sometimes took him into more gray areas than straight-up black-and-white. It was just that allowing his emotions to overrule his own code opened the door to weakness. Softness. A tendency toward feeling instead of doing. And with all that came something else—a hell of a lot of room for hesitation. Which he didn’t have time for in his work or in his day-to-day existence.
He rolled his shoulders a little, mentally reaffirming that he knew what he’d just done was right. A good deed. After all, he could’ve kept going when he realized what was happening. He could’ve told the woman what he’d seen, then not shared Kirk’s number. He sure as hell came in contact with enough shady characters to know there were many people who would’ve ignored the situation altogether, kid or no kid.
His mind wandered back to Elle, wondering if she still sat where he’d left her, or if she’d moved to a quiet place to make the call. Out of sight of the man in the car. The man in the car. Thinking about him gave Noah another stab of guilt, this one more forceful than the last.
Yeah, Loblaw. That’s because you can tell yourself whatever you want, but inside, you know that any normal dude would’ve made sure the creep wasn’t going after her directly.
Noah tried to brush off the thought as he’d done with all the others he’d had so far. He failed. With a sigh, he stopped abruptly, wondering if it was even possible to win an argument with his own, blunt conscience. He suspected not.
Sure, he wasn’t the blonde’s personal bodyguard. And yeah, whatever was going on with her and her missing kid and her lack of calling the police was really none of his concern. But everyday decency did kind of dictate that he make sure someone wasn’t going to jump out of a car and kill her right then and there, though, didn’t it? Even the minuscule shred of chivalry that Noah considered himself to possess hollered that he ought to have stuck around for a minute or two. So—dropping a curse under his breath—he started to turn around. And he immediately realized he didn’t have to. The random streets he’d traversed hadn’t been quite so random at all. All he’d done was circle to the other side of the park. Like he’d unconsciously known what he’d decide anyway.
High-Stakes Bounty Hunter Page 2