by Rita Herron
“He’s got a gun.” Lucas darted across the street and Brayden sprinted after him, dodging a car that screeched to a stop barely an inch from him.
Brayden threw up a hand to apologize, but didn’t have time to slow down. Mila’s terrified gaze met his, making his heart skip a beat.
“Wait!” Lucas shouted as he jogged toward Polk.
A dark van pulled up beside Polk, and Polk reached for the door handle.
“Stop, Polk!” Lucas shouted again.
But the man spun around and fired at Lucas and then at Brayden. Brayden jumped to the side, and Lucas ducked behind the rear of the van for cover. People shouted and ran from the street into the parking deck, coffee shop and neighboring stores. Police officers raced from the courthouse outside to clear the streets and provide backup.
Lucas inched toward the side of the van and fired at Polk. He retaliated by opening fire and shoving Mila toward the van. She screamed, stumbling, then hit the ground on her hands and knees. A short robust beefy guy jumped out and grabbed Mila.
“Let her go!” Brayden yelled.
Lucas fired at Polk again, and this time Lucas’s bullet hit home. The man’s body bounced back as the bullet penetrated his chest, then he staggered and collapsed.
Brayden lunged toward Mila, but the gunman put his weapon to her head. Brayden froze, cold terror slamming into him.
Lucas took cover at the edge of the vehicle, his gaze meeting Brayden’s. Brayden understood. He needed to create a distraction.
Brayden held up his hands in surrender mode. “You don’t want to do this, buddy. Just release the doctor and no one else gets hurt.”
The beefy guy shook his head and pushed Mila toward the van. She cried out and slammed into the side of it.
Lucas inched up behind the bastard and jammed his gun in the man’s back. “Drop it. Now.”
The bastard spun around and swung the butt of his gun toward Lucas’s head. Lucas knocked it away and they fought, then Lucas sent the man’s gun sailing to the ground.
Mila darted away from the gunman and hit the ground a few feet away.
The brute lurched for his weapon, but Lucas fired, hitting the man in the chest. Blood spattered, and Lucas ran to him, then kicked the man’s gun into the shrubs.
Brayden rushed forward and helped Mila to stand. She was shaken and in shock, her body trembling as she collapsed against him.
Shouts erupted, and several officers jogged toward them to assist. Lucas gestured for Brayden to get Mila inside. He wrapped his arm around her waist and coaxed her back into the building in case more of DiSanti’s men were watching.
An officer rushed toward Brayden as they stood in the corner in the lobby of the courthouse. “Anyone hurt? Do you need medical assistance?”
Brayden tilted Mila’s face up so he could examine her for injuries, then checked her clothes for blood. “Are you hurt, Mila?”
She shook her head, but terror glazed her eyes.
He pulled her to him and rubbed her back to calm her. “Can you take us to a room where we can wait on Agent Hawk?”
“Of course.” The officer led the way down a hall then into a conference room. “I’ll get some water.”
Brayden nodded and ushered Mila toward one of the sofas. Instead of sitting down though, she grabbed his shirt lapel. “You shouldn’t have stopped him! You should have let me go!” Tears rained down her face as she pummeled him with her fists. “Why didn’t you just let me handle the situation!”
“Because you were in trouble.”
“I had it under control,” Mila cried.
Brayden swallowed hard, then forced a calm voice. “Lucas saw Polk’s gun. He thought he was going to hurt you.”
“You don’t know what you’ve done! You...you should have let me go.” Sobs racked her body, and he grabbed her fists in his hands and held them to his chest.
“I know you’re upset, but Polk was dangerous and so was the bastard who shot at us.”
She gave up the fight and sagged against him. He held her and stroked her back to calm her, murmuring low, soothing words. “It’s going to be all right, Mila. I promise.”
She pushed back, anger slashing her eyes as she swiped at her tears. “No, it’s not. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” he said. “Why you helped DiSanti. Why you were willing to go with a man who had a gun on you and probably planned to kill you when he got you away from here.”
A helpless look passed through her eyes, followed by fear and panic. She choked on another cry, then dropped her head into her hands. Her body shook again, more tears falling.
His mind raced with possible scenarios, all of which he didn’t like. All of which involved her safety or the safety of her nanny and little girl.
He gave her a few minutes, took the water from the officer who entered with it, then slipped the bottle into her hand.
“Drink.”
She twisted the cap, but her hand shook so badly that she dropped it onto the floor. She guzzled half the bottle before setting it on the coffee table in front of her.
When she looked at him, despair seemed to weigh her down.
He retrieved the bottle cap and set it on the table. “Mila, I know that you’re a good person. Charlotte vouched for you. I saw your awards, and talked to your head nurse. I also know you have a daughter.”
Her lower lip quivered.
“If you tell me the truth, I promise I’ll help you.”
Her face crumpled. “They have her,” she said in a haunted whisper. “They threatened her if I didn’t cooperate.” Anger hardened her voice. “Do you know what that means?”
Her tormented gaze met his, his heart pounding.
“It means you and your brother may have just gotten my little girl killed.”
* * *
MILA BIT HER tongue to keep from confiding the rest of the story to Brayden. But she’d sworn not to reveal the truth about Izzy’s mother or father to anyone, and she had to keep that promise.
It was the only way to keep her daughter safe.
Her heart pounded. She shouldn’t have told him anything.
But what choice did she have?
“Let me get Lucas. He can help—”
“No.” Mila grabbed his hand. “You said whatever I told you was in confidence.”
Brayden shifted, his eyes assessing her. “If you want me as your lawyer, yes, everything you tell me is private.”
She released a sigh of relief. “Agent Hawk is your brother though—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Brayden said. “We’re both professionals. He knew when he allowed me to talk to you that I was bound by attorney-client privilege.”
Mila wanted to believe him. She had to trust someone. And he seemed sincere.
Brayden made a low sound in his throat. “I’m sorry, Mila. I can call you that, can’t I?”
“I don’t care what you call me,” Mila said. “All I want is to protect my daughter.”
Brayden nodded. “Yesterday when I talked to you, I suspected something was off, so I did some digging. You didn’t ask to call anyone when Lucas brought you in, which was odd. When I learned about your daughter, I put two and two together. I went by this morning to check out the situation.”
Mila’s eyes widened. “You saw Izzy? Was she okay?”
Brayden hesitated, agitating her more. “Your nanny answered the door. She said Izzy was in bed, that she was sick.”
Mila’s pulse clamored. “But you didn’t see her?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Panic shot through her, and she dug her fingers into his arm. “I have to go to her, see her myself. Get her somewhere safe. Once DiSanti realizes what happened here today, he may hurt her or take her away somewhere.”
> Brayden nodded. “I’ll tell Lucas where we’re going.”
“No,” Mila cried. “Don’t you understand? He has men at my house. They have guns. Izzy and I were FaceTiming when they burst in and took them hostage.”
Brayden laid his hand over Mila’s. The human contact felt comforting and made her want to spill everything to him.
But she still had secrets.
Secrets she had to keep to protect her daughter.
* * *
BRAYDEN STUDIED MILA AGAIN, grateful she’d finally come clean. Lucas wouldn’t like being left in the dark, but Brayden was bound by confidentiality, and he would honor it.
Although it wouldn’t take Lucas long to figure out what was going on himself.
He’d researched the lawyer. No doubt the FBI already knew about Mila’s daughter.
“Please,” Mila said. “I need to see Izzy.”
He nodded. “You said men with guns were at the house. It’s too dangerous.”
Mila shot up. “I don’t care. She’s my little girl, and she needs me. Now either take me to her or let me go.”
“We’ll talk to my brother. He can send the FBI there to rescue her,” Brayden said.
She shook her head no. “They will kill her if they see the feds or cops.”
He touched her arm again. The simple contact sent a tingle of awareness through him that he had no business feeling for a client, much less a woman in trouble with both the law and a man liked DiSanti.
But being with her was the only way to keep her from getting hurt and to learn the truth—if she was lying about her part in DiSanti’s surgery.
“I’ll drive you, but you have to do as I say and stay in the car.”
Her gaze locked with his for a brief moment. Finally she gave a nod.
“I’ll tell Lucas that you’re upset, that I’m taking you someplace so we can talk.”
Indecision warred in her eyes. “That’s all you’ll tell him.”
He nodded. “Trust me, Mila.”
But the odd flicker in her eyes indicated she didn’t trust anyone. He wondered who’d betrayed her to the point that she felt that way.
None of your business. A little girl’s life might be at stake.
He had to do his job.
Then again, she might be right not to trust. DiSanti had people everywhere. For all he knew, the man might own a judge or a cop or even a fed...
He stepped to the door to text Lucas. His brother was in the hall, so he joined him.
“How is she?” Lucas asked.
“Shaken, but physically all right.”
“We need to convince her to tell us more about DiSanti.”
“I’m aware of that.” Brayden held up a hand. “But she’s scared, Lucas.”
Lucas studied him for a minute, obviously torn. “You think she was coerced, don’t you?”
Brayden pasted on his poker face but gave a slight nod. “Release her into my custody, Lucas. I’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.”
Lucas studied him for a long moment. “All right. But don’t let her get away. She’s the only lead we have to DiSanti.”
He knew that. But he was more worried about her child at the moment than catching that monster.
“I’ll have an officer escort you to your SUV just in case DiSanti’s men are watching.”
He thanked his brother, then ducked back into the room and told Mila he’d cleared her to leave with him. When they exited the room, the officer was waiting.
Brayden took Mila’s arm, and the guard led them from the building to his SUV.
“I’ve got it from here.” Brayden dismissed the guard, and the officer turned and walked back to the courthouse.
“I’m going to call my brother Dexter to meet us at the house. He’s a PI.”
“You promised that everything I told you was confidential,” Mila said sharply.
He angled himself toward her. “It is. But I’m not a fool either, Mila. These men are dangerous. We’d be crazy to go there without backup.”
“But he might call Lucas—”
Brayden shook his head. “Dex likes to bend the rules. We’ve kept more than one secret from Lucas and Harrison, our other brother who’s sheriff of Tumbleweed.” He paused, teeth gritted. “If there’s anyone I trust to keep your secret, it’s Dex.”
A world of doubt settled in her eyes, but she must have realized that she didn’t have much choice and agreed. He phoned Dexter, gave him a brief rundown and asked him to meet them at Mila’s.
When he hung up, he started the engine and pulled into traffic. A strained silence stretched between him and Mila as he drove.
When he neared her house, he slowed and waited five doors down until Dex arrived. Dex climbed in the back seat and he made quick introductions, then coasted past Mila’s to survey the house and property.
Everything looked quiet.
Mila leaned forward, searching, worry creating lines around her mouth and eyes.
He turned around at the end of the street, then drove two houses away and parked on the street. “Stay here, Mila. Dex and I will find Izzy.”
She clenched her hands in terror, but gave a small nod. Dammit, he hated to leave her in the car. What if DiSanti’s men were watching and grabbed her from his SUV?
“You can stay with her,” Dex said as if he read Brayden’s mind.
“No,” Mila said. “I’ll be fine. It’ll take both of you to handle the men.”
“She’s right,” Brayden said. “If you can stave off the goons, I’ll get Izzy and the nanny outside.”
He gave Mila’s hand a quick squeeze, retrieved his gun from the dash, then he and Dexter slipped from the car. They ducked through the neighbor’s backyard, staying low in the bushes as they approached the back deck of Mila’s house.
He just prayed the nanny and Izzy were still here, and that he and Dexter could get them out alive.
Chapter Eight
Brayden gestured for Dexter to check the door while he crept up to the back window and peered inside.
The interior was dark and quiet. He didn’t see movement, but the hallway offered no view of the interior of the rooms.
He mouthed to Dex that he didn’t see anyone, then kept watch while his brother climbed the steps to the deck and inched to the door. His brother held his gun at the ready and checked the doorknob.
The door screeched open.
Not a good sign.
Dex gave him a questioning look, and Brayden joined him, careful not to make a sound.
Senses alert, Brayden peered inside the doorway.
No movement. Except for the low hum of the furnace, no sound came from the house.
Odd.
The hair on the back of Brayden’s neck prickled. This morning the nanny had been here.
Now the place felt eerily empty.
Did DiSanti’s men know about the shooting at the courthouse? Had they left with Mila’s daughter?
That wouldn’t be good...
Dexter headed down the hall, and Brayden followed close behind. They passed a powder room, which was empty, then two bedrooms, one on the left, the other on the right.
Brayden eased into the one on the right. Mila’s. A white iron bed covered in a blue quilt, dresser on one wall, a walk-in closet and bath.
Dex checked the second room, then shook his head indicating no one was there.
Antsy now, Brayden pushed a third bedroom door open. Dex stood behind him, gun aimed in case an ambush awaited.
A white four-poster twin bed was covered in a pink comforter with dozens of dolls and stuffed animals scattered on top of it. A dollhouse occupied one corner. Blocks, puzzles and a pink baseball glove filled bookshelves in the corner. A pink sneaker lay on the floor by the dollhouse, missing its mate, and a board game looked
as if someone had stepped on it. Maybe one of the goons?
The bed was unmade, closet empty. The space beneath the bed held a box of clothing and several mismatched socks.
No little girl here.
His gut tightened, and he gestured to Dexter that they should check the living room. Although at this point, it appeared no one was here.
Dex led the way with his gun still drawn. An acrid odor hit Brayden as they neared the front of the house.
The kitchen-living room was to the right, dining area on the left. A lamp had been overturned, magazines strewn on the floor, a muddy boot print left on the entrance by the door.
No sign of the nanny or Mila’s little girl.
An open carton of milk sat on the kitchen counter along with boxes of crackers and snacks. The farmhouse table held a pizza box along with an empty Scotch bottle that he had a feeling didn’t belong to Mila.
Dexter crossed to the table in search of something that might indicate where the men would have taken the nanny and Izzy.
The rancid odor hit Brayden again, and Brayden’s stomach jolted as he spotted drops of blood spatter on the floor in the kitchen.
Nerves raw, he eased toward it, then peered around the edge of the counter, praying that Izzy wasn’t there.
And that the blood didn’t belong to her.
* * *
MILA WAS BARELY holding on by a thread.
She stared at the clock on the dashboard, counting the minutes and seconds as Brayden and his brother Dexter went inside her house. If they could just find Izzy and get her away from DiSanti’s men, she would tell the Hawks everything.
Her mind turned to the Hawk men. Brayden looked to be in his early thirties, was tall and broad shouldered with dark, neatly trimmed hair. He was handsome and imposing in his suit like the lawyer he purported to be. But those boots hinted at a tough cowboy beneath. And so did those intense eyes.
How many Hawk men were there? Were they all in law enforcement?
What did it matter? As long as he saved her little girl. Then she could worry about the charges against her. She hoped, if she gave the police a description of DiSanti, maybe worked with a sketch artist to convey an image of his new features, they’d drop the charges. She had been forced to perform surgery at gunpoint, her family threatened.