by Jenna Night
“I let the prosecutors know that Justine and Robbie gave us information that helped Daisy and Martin capture the bad guys. Justine is not in touch with us anymore, so I don’t know what will happen to them. But I wish them the best.”
“What do you know about the Miami mob side of everything?” Leon asked Daisy.
“The informant inside the mob said the criminal bosses had had enough of the whole thing. They never authorized Daltrey and Bunker to skip bail to begin with. Their orders were to keep their mouths shut, not rat anybody out and do their time in prison if the mob lawyer couldn’t prevent a conviction.”
“So the mob wasn’t particularly in a hurry to help them get out of Jameson.”
“Right. They were also mad about the unauthorized drug business. They did send their decoys to distract law enforcement, just as we thought. But the couple was actually an assassin team sent to kill both Bunker and Daltrey. But they didn’t intend to kill Daltrey until after he’d helped them locate me. Of course, Daltrey didn’t know that. They lied and told him they had to kill Bunker because Bunker was secretly feeding me information on the fugitives’ whereabouts.”
Daisy blew out a deep breath. Surviving that ordeal had been exhausting. And terrifying. Martin squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing quite like the reminder that we aren’t here forever to help you get your priorities straight,” he said to her quietly.
And to encourage a person to face some of their deepest fears, Daisy thought.
“So we won’t need to keep an eye out for the mob when you move to Stone River?” Cassie asked.
Millie and Alvis had decided that now was a good time for them to retire. Daisy and Martin were planning to stay in Jameson to help them wrap things up. After that, they’d move to Stone River, where Daisy would be joining the Rock Solid team.
“No,” Daisy said. “You won’t.”
Martin leaned in close to Daisy. “We have an appointment to keep,” he said, his breath tickling her neck and warming her cheeks. “And it’s just about time.” He stood and extended his hand to her. She took it and rose to her feet. “Excuse us,” he said to everyone who was sitting near them. “We’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
Martin led the way to the tiny room that served as the office’s break room and kitchen. Once he and Daisy were inside, they closed the door behind them.
“I’m so glad you thought of this,” Daisy said.
Martin had always had a thoughtful side, even when they were just friends. And she had recently learned he had quite the sentimental side, too.
Her husband slid his phone out of his pocket and started tapping the screen. “If I planned this right, it is now nine in the morning in Guam,” Martin said. “And if I didn’t? Oh, well.”
Daisy pressed her hands together, feeling like a child bursting to tell a secret. But this wasn’t a secret. It was a promise being kept.
The phone rang a couple of times on the other side of the world, and then Aaron Lopez’s face appeared on the screen. “Hey,” he said. “So, does this mean it’s official and I have a brother-in-law?”
“Yes!” Daisy said. “We’re here at the office celebrating with Mom and some friends. But you are the very first person we’ve called as husband and wife.” She’d been smiling all afternoon and here she was smiling again. “It seemed right to make a special call to you since you were the one who brought Martin and me together all those years ago.”
“I love you, sis, and I’m happy for you,” Aaron said. “And I’m glad the friend who is as close as a brother is now officially my brother.”
“I’m just sorry it took so long,” Martin said.
On the screen, Aaron laughed. “Oh, I imagine it took exactly the amount of time it was supposed to take. Welcome to the family, Martin. You two take care of each other.”
Daisy and Martin smiled at one another. “We will,” they answered together.
* * *
If you enjoyed this Rock Solid Bounty Hunters novel by Jenna Night, be sure to pick up the previous story, Fugitive Chase.
Available now from Love Inspired!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Vanished in the Mountains by Tanya Stowe.
Dear Reader,
I hope you had fun riding along with Daisy and Martin as they unraveled their feelings for one another while chasing bad guys and trying to not get killed in the process. In the end, Daisy captures her fugitives—plus some extra criminals—and earns her bounty hunter fee. And Martin, while working alongside her, realizes he doesn’t have to be locked into his past. He can learn from life experiences and press on in faith toward the life and love he truly wants. Even if, at the moment, he isn’t sure exactly where he’s going or how he’ll get there. The same is true for all of us. We can press on in faith, even if we aren’t certain of every step to take on the road ahead. What a relief!
Thank you for taking the time to read Hostage Pursuit. I’ll be checking in with bail bondswoman Cassie Wheeler and her bounty hunting team in the upcoming third Rock Solid Bounty Hunters romance. I’m sure there’ll be something exciting going on. There always is with this crew. For some reason they actually like to go looking for trouble.
I love to hear from my readers. If you’re inclined to write, my email address is [email protected]. I also have a Jenna Night Facebook page. You can sign up for my newsletter to be alerted to new book releases on my website, JennaNight.com. You can also follow me on BookBub.
Jenna
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Vanished in the Mountains
by Tanya Stowe
ONE
Dulcie Parker wound her long curls into a tight bun on top of her head and gave it one last pat. Messy, soft buns were the “in” look right now but for her, the tighter the better. First off, her super-curly hair was messy enough and second, she’d found that the sterner, harsher look worked best for her job. In fact, she considered it part of her work uniform: a tight bun, black pants, a crisp white button-front shirt and a black jacket. As a fairly young domestic violence counselor, she needed to be taken seriously, not only by the men she often met but also by her coworkers who considered her too young and inexperienced.
As if anyone is too young to know that words and fists hurt. Her cultured university-professor father taught her that lesson.
She closed her eyes and forced those thoughts from her mind. Going down that path was not the way to start out her workday...one that would end up with her being late to the shelter if she didn’t get a move on. With one last push to a misbehaving curl, she flipped off the bathroom light.
As she entered the small living room of her apartment, she frowned. An envelope lay on the floor by the door.
Puzzled, she picked up the plain white envelope, ripped open the seal and removed a single piece of paper folded neatly into thirds. A message was printed vertically down the middle of the sheet.
Mind your own business or you’ll become a Missing One.
Dulcie’s fingers trembled as she read the words.
A missing one...the exact words her client Doris Begay had used.
In Dulcie’s line of work, threats came with the job. She’d been yelled at and threatened by angry husbands, boyfriends and family members of women seeking help, but this...this was different. This was specific and was not about her clients at the shelter. Or at least only a fine thread connected them.
One of her clients, a Navajo woman named Doris Begay, had been living with an Anglo man, Matt Kutchner. Recently they’d left the Navajo reservation in New Mexico and moved to Durango, Colorado. Once there, Kutchner’s violence escalated and Doris’s daughter, Judy, had talked her mother into attending group
therapy sessions at the shelter where Dulcie worked.
Dulcie had almost convinced Doris to leave the man when sixteen-year-old Judy went missing. The police questioned Dulcie about the violence she had witnessed against Judy Begay. When the young woman’s battered body was found at the bottom of a mountain canyon, Dulcie’s statements led to Kutchner’s arrest.
But the message in her hand wasn’t about the Kutchner case. It was about the questions Dulcie started asking after his arrest.
Even before her daughter’s body was found, Doris had referred to her as one of the Missing Ones...almost as if she knew her daughter was dead. Since moving to Durango a year ago, Dulcie had learned about the Navajo reluctance to refer to the dead by their names. Still, the mother’s use of the phrase Missing Ones puzzled Dulcie. How many girls were missing? When she questioned Doris, the woman grew uncomfortable and mumbled something about many reservation girls disappearing.
Dulcie’s business was domestic violence. She knew the national statistics. Native American women experienced violence and exploitation at a rate ten times higher than any other ethnic group. But Dulcie did a little digging. To her shock, she discovered the number of missing girls from their area was even greater. The city’s close location to multiple Native American reservations, including the massive Navajo reservation, could account for the higher numbers. But to Dulcie, the frequency of the kidnappings indicated something more...something deadly, superefficient and, so far, undetected. Could a trafficking ring be operating in the Four Corners area?
Dulcie had barely started asking questions and someone was already trying to silence her...someone who could still be outside her door.
The paper slipped through her fingers and floated to the floor. She dashed across the room and squinted through the peephole. As far as she could see, the hallway was empty, but someone could be beyond the narrow vision of the small sight.
Threats weren’t much good without force. Was someone waiting for her to step out of her apartment?
Halfway to the kitchen counter for her cell phone she remembered something important. She’d only discussed her concerns with two people—her boss, Vonetta Lauder, and a municipal policeman. Officer Shaw had been the original investigator on the Begay/Kutchner case until they realized the victim lived outside the city limits. From that point on, jurisdiction lay with the county sheriff’s office and their detective. Still, when Dulcie needed local statistics, she’d approached Shaw for help. He was the only one besides her boss who knew what she was investigating.
One of them had definitely shared the info. That proof lay on the floor at her feet.
Vonetta was the visible representative of the domestic violence center for women, the voice of those who couldn’t speak for themselves. She sat on multiple boards, was always in the news and earned lots of recognition and donations for the privately funded women’s center.
But Dulcie had a sense about people, a feel for their hidden motives and agendas. She could thank her dad for that deeply ingrained mistrust. She couldn’t quite pin down the reason she’d never trusted Vonetta, but she’d had the same feeling about Officer Shaw. When the Kutchner case moved to the La Plata County Sheriff’s Office and Deputy Austin Turner, she’d felt a sense of relief.
Deputy Turner! That’s who she would call. She searched her list of phone contacts for his name. She’d liked the man from the minute they met. Not just because of his appealing, boy-next-door good looks. Something about him inspired positive feelings, maybe his deep, confident voice or the lingering pain she glimpsed behind his gaze. Whatever it was, the man understood...had the same sense about people that she possessed.
During the investigation he had given her his cell number. His phone rang and rang until his message clicked on.
Dulcie licked dry lips and tried to find the right words. “Umm, Deputy Turner, this is Dulcie Parker. Can you call me as soon as possible? Something...something has happened.” Her voice broke and trembled as she recited her number.
Now she would have to wait. She stared at the paper on the floor, anxiety building with each passing minute.
Don’t wait. Call the sheriff’s office and hunt him down.
She dialed again. The receptionist sounded busy and a little more than irritated when Dulcie asked if Deputy Turner was in.
“I don’t have the answer to that, ma’am, but I can connect you to his line so you can leave a message.”
“Yes. Yes please.” The fear must have come through in her voice because the receptionist paused.
“Hang on. Let me see if I can find him.”
The line went silent and Dulcie took several deep breaths. Now was not the time to lose her hard-won control.
The receptionist clicked back on. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t seem to be at his desk. Is there someone else I can connect you with?”
Dulcie paused. Someone else? No...she couldn’t trust anyone else.
“No, thank you. I’ll leave him a message.”
“All right. I’ll connect you.”
After a short pause, Deputy Turner’s deep, reassuring voice echoed in her ear again. Hearing it gave her a jolt of comfort that almost brought her to tears. “Deputy, this is Dulcie Parker. Please call me as soon as you can. It’s important.”
She ended the phone call, slid onto a bar stool at the counter and rested her forehead on the heels of her palms. How had she come to this again? Was she a magnet for trouble? Was her fear of being a victim creating conspiracies in her head? She looked at the paper resting on the floor.
No. This wasn’t her imagination. She’d stumbled upon something deep and dark and someone was determined to keep her from exposing it.
She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. “Please, Lord, help me.”
Over and over again, she repeated the words, until the darkness threatening to overwhelm her subsided. Then she took a deep breath.
Fear was the tactic all bullies used. The only way to combat fear was to face it head-on. These people—whoever they were—wanted her to stop asking questions. That’s the one thing she couldn’t do. She had to move forward, had to do something.
She slid off the bar stool and walked to the door. The hallway still appeared empty. She took a deep breath and placed her ear against the door. She heard nothing. Not even another apartment door opening or the deep hum of the elevator.
No door opening. The thought stuck in her mind.
What time is it?
She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes before eight. Every day precisely at 7:45 a.m. her neighbor across the hall left for work. Joey Delacroix worked for the city and was precise in everything he did. In five minutes on the dot, he would leave. Dulcie could leave with him.
Taking a deep breath, she swooped the paper off the ground, folded it back into the envelope and shoved it and her phone into her purse. Grabbing her coat, she slipped it on and tugged the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Then she hurried back to the door. Easing the chain out of the lock, she released the dead bolt and pressed her ear to the wooden portal again, listening for any sound.
A minute passed and her heart pounded. What if whoever left this message was waiting near the elevator? What if there were more than one? What if they weren’t afraid to attack her and Joey together?
Stop it. You’re letting fear overwhelm you again.
Still she needed...wanted...some way to defend herself. She looked around the room. A small can of scented aerosol spray rested on the nearby end table. Sprayed directly in an assailant’s eyes, it would make a great weapon. She popped the lid off, let it fall to the ground and gripped the can in her left hand. Then she pulled her door key out of her purse and clasped it between her fingers, pointed edge facing out.
Now she was ready. She placed her ear against the door and waited. One minute passed. Another.
Where was Joey? Had she missed him? Did
he call in sick? Her pulse pounded faster with each question.
And then, the door across the hall opened. It was so loud, she shook her head and stepped back. Of course, she didn’t need to press her ear against the door. Every morning she heard Joey leave while standing eight feet away in her kitchen. Fear was stealing her common sense. She needed to get control.
Straightening her spine, she tucked the aerosol can just inside her large, open purse and twisted the doorknob with fingers still clutching the key. With the door wide, she paused and glanced both directions.
All clear. She looked her neighbor’s way. Joey stood motionless, his key poised just above the knob and a frown on his face.
“Hey, Dulcie. Is something wrong?”
She swallowed and stepped outside her door to lock it. “No, no. Nothing. I just... I thought I heard someone at my door earlier. Did you see anyone?”
“Nope. But I’m running a little late so I was rushing around. Might not have heard someone in the hall.”
She nodded and swallowed. They locked their doors simultaneously, then walked down the hall side by side. Dulcie hesitated, waiting to see if Joey would take the elevator or the stairs. Since he was running late, maybe he’d depart from his usual choice and use the elevator. Either way, she was going the way he went.
He punched the buttons outside the elevator and turned to face her. “You sure you’re okay?”
She tried to smile. “Just a lot on my mind. A busy day today.”