by Laura Scott
“That’s right. The oldest, Marc Callahan, works for the FBI.”
Oh yes, she remembered that. She straightened and glanced at Duncan, before meeting Ryker’s gaze. Then it hit her. “You think the FBI is interested in the guns being sold to the enemy.”
“Yes, we do. And it’s not just that, but Hawk became acquainted with an FBI agent while he was trying to find who was behind the attempts to kill him and his family.”
“Special Agent in Charge Dennis Ludwig,” Duncan added. “We think it’s a good idea to reach out to Marc Callahan and explain what’s going on. Marc can be our liaison with Ludwig.”
“Why not give Blake-Moore the account numbers?” She knew she sounded like a broken record, but it seemed very logical to her. Give them what they wanted in exchange for being left alone. “With five million they could likely disappear forever.”
“And what would stop them from killing us all?” Again, Ryker’s tone was gentle. “No witnesses to ever come forward against them.”
She reached up to rub her temple. The feeling of being well rested was fading fast beneath the harsh reality Ryker and Duncan were presenting. “We aren’t witnesses to anything.”
“We know the bank accounts that house the money that was siphoned away by your husband and brother.” Ryker hesitated, then added, “And don’t forget, two of their men died by our hands, three others assaulted and tied up. Don’t you see? We absolutely need to bring the authorities in on this.”
She sighed and nodded, admitting defeat. “You’re right. Okay, we’ll bring in the authorities. But how long will it take for the FBI to arrest Harper Moore and Kevin Blake? Days? Weeks? Months? A year?”
The two men exchanged another knowing glance. “We don’t know,” Duncan admitted. “But hopefully not longer than a few months.”
She placed a protective hand on her stomach. “We don’t have a few months. This baby is due in just under six weeks. A little less, now.”
“I know. Don’t worry, Olivia. It’s going to be okay.” Ryker put a reassuring hand on her arm. “We’re going to protect you, Aaron and the baby. I’m sure the FBI will help us.”
She should be relieved to know that the FBI would be helping to protect her, but she wasn’t. The idea of having a couple of straitlaced FBI agents dressed in suits and ties watching over her was not reassuring. While he might be a perfectly nice guy, she didn’t know or have a reason to trust Dennis Ludwig or any other FBI agent.
She wanted Ryker. Yet for the first time, it occurred to her that maybe he was tired of being in the line of fire on her behalf. After all, he’d done more than his fair share of fighting off the bad guys since he’d found her in Harrisburg.
Her cheeks burned at the memory of how she’d kissed him. Twice. Why on earth had she done that? Based on the fact that he’d tried to convince her that her emotions were some form of hero worship made her realize just how one-sided they were.
The way he’d been kind enough to tell her she was beautiful, when she was as big as a house, was sweet. His way of trying to soften the blow.
He didn’t want her or care about her the way she was beginning to care about him. This plan of going to the FBI for help was obviously twofold.
Get the feds involved in bringing down Harper Moore and Kevin Blake, while extricating himself from her life.
Okay, then. She straightened her shoulders. “All right.”
A momentary confusion washed over Ryker’s face. “All right, what? You’re in agreement with us reaching out to Marc Callahan?”
“Yes. And to bringing in the FBI, that agent in charge.” She searched for his name. “Dennis Ludwig.”
“Great.” Duncan pounced on her agreement. “I’ll call Marc now. He should be back in Milwaukee by now.”
Ryker looked as if he wanted to say something more, but Aaron’s plaintive tone interrupted them.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
She turned away from Ryker. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll get you some animal crackers.”
Ryker jumped up and crossed through the connecting doors to get her zebra bag. She stared at it for a moment, hating the idea that she’d been carrying the stupid bank-account numbers in there all this time, then told herself not to be foolish.
The bag wasn’t the problem, the numbers were.
“Duncan, see if Marc can meet us for breakfast,” Ryker said. “We’ll meet him halfway if necessary.”
Duncan raised a hand to acknowledge him, but remained focused on his call. “Marc? Hey, it’s Duncan O’Hare. Do you have a minute? We have a bit of a problem...”
Duncan left the motel room, talking to Marc as he went. She wasn’t sure why he needed privacy. She knew everything that had gone down, but decided it was better for Aaron not to hear any of the specifics.
Her son was satisfied with a couple of animal crackers, his gaze locked on the television.
She second-guessed her decision several times over the next twenty minutes. Marc had agreed to meet with them in about an hour, so Ryker had advised her to pack up their things.
“We won’t be back.”
“But won’t it take time for Marc to get in touch with Dennis Ludwig?”
Ryker nodded. “We’ll still find somewhere else to stay. Better to keep moving.”
“All right.” It didn’t take long for her to gather their things, stuffing everything into the zebra bag.
Thirty minutes later they were on the road. This time Duncan was tucked in the back seat beside Aaron. He was great with her son, keeping him entertained by reciting stories that he must have memorized from children’s books.
“How does he know so many of them?” she asked Ryker.
“He spends a lot of time with his nephew Brodie.”
She remembered hearing about Mike Callahan and Shayla’s son. “He must have a really good memory.”
“Nah. I’ve just read the books about a hundred times each,” Duncan said in a wry tone. “I could recite them in my sleep.”
The family restaurant wasn’t too far off the interstate. They chose a circular booth that offered room for four seats and a high chair for Aaron.
Her stomach rumbled at the enticing scent of bacon and eggs. Ryker must have heard, as he grinned. “Let’s order.”
“I’ll be fine. We can wait for Marc,” she protested.
“Marc is running a bit late,” Duncan said with a glance at his phone. “He said to go ahead and order. He’ll eat on the way.”
Their meal arrived in what seemed like record time. She dove into her over-easy eggs, then realized she forgot to pray, so sent up a quick, silent Thank You, Lord before continuing to eat.
Based on the liberal smears of syrup over his face, Aaron was enjoying his French toast.
She glanced longingly at the coffee Ryker and Duncan were drinking, but told herself to forget it. She remained determined to avoid anything that may impact the baby. Sipping her water, she watched as the two men quickly devoured their meals.
Pushing her empty plate away, she sighed. “That was good, thanks. Please excuse me for a moment.” She slid out of the booth intending to use the restroom.
Ryker’s hand clamped on her arm. “Wait. Duncan, do you see that SUV that just pulled in? Notice the dark tinted windows? Just like the other SUV Blake-Moore used?”
“Yeah.” He lifted his phone to his ear. “Marc? We’ve got company.”
SUV? Company? Her heart squeezed in her chest. No, this couldn’t be happening again. Could it?
How was it possible that the Blake-Moore Group had found them again?
THIRTEEN
“We’re getting out of here.” Ryker wasn’t about to take any chances. He tossed cash on the table, lifted Aaron out of his high chair, grabbed the zebra bag and placed his hand in the small of Olivia’s back, steering her toward the opposite end of the restaur
ant. Duncan followed, still talking to Marc.
“I don’t understand...” Olivia began.
“Not now.” He didn’t mean to sound terse, but this wasn’t the time for a detailed conversation. “Go through the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?” Olivia’s voice rose in agitation. “They won’t let us in.”
He ignored her, since he wasn’t planning to ask permission, and pushed the swinging door open with one hand. With the other, he gently nudged her through.
“Hey!” The kitchen help gaped at them. “Customers aren’t allowed back here.”
“Don’t worry, we’re just moving through.” Ryker raked his gaze over the area, searching for the back door that he knew all restaurants had for employee use. When he saw the dark green door, he urged Olivia toward it.
He half expected someone to physically attempt to stop them, but they didn’t. Instead, the staff stayed where they were, as if momentarily frozen in time, watching them. Thirty seconds later, they were outside near a large Dumpster, with an open field behind it.
The lack of coverage made him nervous.
“Where’s Marc?” He glanced toward Duncan. “We need an escape strategy.”
“I know.” Duncan still had his phone to his ear. “He’s coming up now.”
“I see him.” A silver SUV came around the corner, with a dark-haired man behind the wheel. Ryker had met the entire Callahan family several times, but it wasn’t always easy to tell them apart. Marc was the oldest and most serious of the bunch. Although he was a different man when he was around his wife, Kari, and his two young children.
“Wait. I need a car seat for Aaron.” Olivia dug in her heels in protest when he urged her toward the SUV.
“Marc has kids, too,” Duncan assured her. “See? There’s a car seat in the back.”
That was all Olivia needed. She rushed forward, opening the back passenger door. She reached for her son, but Ryker was already setting the boy in the car seat and securing the buckle.
“Get in. We’ll have to squish together,” he told her.
She didn’t argue, and he hugged the door frame as much as possible to give her enough room to put on her seat belt.
The moment they were all inside the vehicle, Marc took off. Ryker kept his gaze on the parking lot, as did Duncan.
The black SUV was parked next to the one they’d driven here. Two men dressed in black were disappearing inside the restaurant. He hadn’t recognized them, not that he’d expected to. Apparently the Blake-Moore Group had more than enough mercenaries working for them. A never-ending stream of disposable resources, which made him feel sick at heart. Why were these men so anxious to put their lives on the line like this? Didn’t they realize how much danger they were placing themselves in? He simply didn’t understand it.
“How did they find you?” Marc’s question drew him from his dark thoughts.
“I have no idea.” He glanced at Olivia who was doing her best to soothe her son. The boy had seemed confused by their abrupt departure, but thankfully wasn’t crying.
“What if they’ve picked up on the fact that we’re using the Callahans to back us up?” Duncan turned in his seat to look at Ryker. “First Mike, then Miles and now Marc.”
Ryker blew out a breath. “Could be. We all helped Hawk six months ago, including several of the Callahans. It’s not a stretch for them to assume we’d use them again.”
“I wasn’t followed,” Marc protested.
“I know you weren’t. They showed up minutes before you did.” Which was an interesting fact now that he thought about it. “Could they have somehow tapped into your phone?”
Marc let out a snort. “I can’t see how they could trace an FBI phone.”
“But you use it as your personal device, too.” Duncan’s tone was mild. “Could be they have your family under surveillance.”
“Maybe. I’ll call and have one of my colleagues sit on my place, just in case.” Clearly Marc didn’t want to believe his phone had been traced, but what other explanation was there? Especially considering the mercenaries had beaten him to the restaurant. They had to have had prior knowledge that the place was a meeting point. “But there’s been no sign of that. And I only called the office in Madison to help coordinate things.”
“Now what?” Olivia’s voice held a noticeable tremor.
Ryker reached for her hand. “We’ll continue protecting you and Aaron. Just trust us, okay?”
She nodded, and didn’t say anything more. But she continued clutching his hand as if it was a lifeline.
“I want to go back to Madison,” Marc said. “To the FBI office there.”
Olivia tensed, but he nodded his agreement. “Whatever you think is best.”
“You know, I’d think they’d have sent more than two men if they knew we’d reached out to the Callahans.”
Duncan’s observation made him nod. “Yeah, you would think so. Although these guys tend to believe they’re better than anyone else.”
“Yet we keep proving them wrong,” Duncan added thoughtfully. “I wonder if they’re running out of men?”
“I sure hope so.” That would be the best news ever, in his opinion. What good was the Blake-Moore Group if they only had a handful of men working for them?
Except they wouldn’t need any more, would they? Once they had the money Tim and Colin had skimmed from them, the two owners could easily disappear for good.
“Do you think both Harper Moore and Kevin Blake know about the embezzled money? Or just one of them?” Marc asked.
It was a good question. “I don’t know. Why? Do you think we can play one owner off the other?” It made sense in a way, to have the entire five million going to one person instead of being split down the middle.
“Maybe.” Marc’s expression was thoughtful. “Although I can’t believe they weren’t aware of the gun-selling scheme, which makes me believe they’re both in this up to their beady little eyeballs.”
“Yeah.” And it still burned him to know that while he’d been fighting in Afghanistan, the enemy had used American guns against him and his teammates. “Although, if that’s true, why hasn’t either one of them been arrested yet?”
Marc met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “From what I hear, there isn’t any proof of their culpability. Both Blake and Moore are claiming that their men were acting alone without their knowledge.”
“Yeah, right,” Duncan muttered.
Marc shrugged. “Once we get the proof we need, they’ll both be arrested and charged in federal court. But until then, there isn’t much more we can do.”
“The money stashed in overseas bank accounts might be the proof we need,” Ryker pointed out. “Although we’d have to find a way to trace it back to Colin and Tim. Seth’s testimony may help us, there.”
“I hope so,” Marc agreed.
For several miles no one said anything.
Ryker glanced over at Olivia to see she was resting her head against the edge of Aaron’s car seat, her eyes closed. Her fingers still clung to his, so he didn’t think she was sleeping.
“Hey, are you okay?” He kept his voice low.
She opened her eyes. “Fine. Except the Braxton-Hicks contractions are back.”
He felt the blood drain from his face. “How long have you had them?”
“Since we rushed through the kitchen.” She closed her eyes again.
It was the stress of being on the run for their lives. She hadn’t said it, but he knew that’s what she’d meant. He felt terrible that she was having to go through all of this in her condition.
“Problem?” Marc asked.
He tried not to look as panicked as he felt. “Braxton-Hicks contractions.”
“Again?” Duncan swiveled around to face him, alarm in his gaze. “I don’t like this. We need to get her in to see a doctor.”
“Nothing, but I really would like to see a doctor.” Her voice was low and steady.
Terror gripped him. “You think this is it? Real labor pains?”
The corner of her mouth tipped up in a half-hearted smile. “No, but I haven’t been to see an OB in just over a month, and I’m supposed to go in monthly until I’m four weeks out, then weekly. I’ve missed one appointment so far, and in another two weeks, it will be two missed appointments.”
“That settles it.” Ryker wasn’t about to take any chances. “Let’s find her an OB doctor.”
“Where are we?” Olivia frowned as she looked through the window. “I don’t recognize this place.”
“We’re in McFarland, less than fifteen miles outside of Madison,” Marc said. “Do you know any OB doctors in Madison?”
“I know Dr. Bowman. He delivered Aaron. I was planning to go to him for this baby, but never had the chance.”
“Will he see you without an appointment?” Ryker cradled her hand between both of his. “Or should we go to the emergency room?”
She wrinkled her nose. “This isn’t an emergency. Can you look up his number? Maybe he or one of his associates has an opening.”
He reluctantly let her go, then used his phone to pull up the name of the obstetrician. He found the number easily enough and called it, but quickly handed the phone to Olivia as he had no clue what to say.
Olivia politely asked for the next available appointment after explaining that she hadn’t been able to see her OB in Illinois as originally planned. After several moments, she said thank you and handed him his phone.
“Tomorrow morning is the earliest they can see me.”
“Not today?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll be fine till the morning. They told me to call if anything changes.”
A wave of helplessness washed over him. He didn’t like it, but what could he do? Other than drive her to the closest hospital and insist she be seen. “That’s stupid advice,” he mumbled.