Texas Takedown

by Barb Han

  Alcorn had played a critical role in the investigation fifteen years ago. Everyone in town had been thoroughly investigated. Dylan was getting punchy.

  It could, however, be someone tied to Kramer.

  Whatever game this creep was playing was about to end.

  “What do you need from me?” Brody asked.

  “Get me what you can on Thomas Kramer. I want to know everything about him. Friends, family, known hangouts.”

  “You got it.” Brody cursed under his breath.

  “Why him?”

  “I’ll explain later.” Dylan cut a hard right and then a left. “But we need a safe place to stay.”

  “Why not go to the police?” Having served in the military, Brody still had connections—connections that could come in handy.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll make a few calls and find a place for you to hide within the hour. I have a lot of friends in Austin. Until then, stay on the move. We’ll figure this out,” Brody said. “I’ll let the others know what’s going on, too.”

  Dylan looped around downtown four times before the phone rang again.

  “I have a location for you. I found a small place behind a bar on Sixth Street.” Brody relayed the address. “I would’ve liked to get you farther out of town but I figured you’d want internet access and you needed someplace quick. Plus, with all the foot traffic, it’ll be easier to disappear in the crowd. Big Mike is working the bar and he’s expecting you both. He’ll have keys and can give you any passwords you need to use the internet.”

  “Hey, thanks, Brody.”

  “Keep me posted. And good luck.”

  Luck? He blew out a sharp breath. Since he’d left his four-leaf clover in his other pants, he’d have to rely on skills the US Army had taught him to stay alive.

  * * *

  SAMANTHA WAS BEGINNING to shake off the mental fog that came with the hard slap of reality that she was now on the run with Dylan. She shouldn’t notice his thick, muscled arms. Nor should she get too comfortable in the sense of relief being this near him brought.

  If she was going to be running for her life, she certainly wanted to be with a man who looked as if he could handle whatever was thrown at them. That was a given. But feeling as though somehow everything was magically going to be all right because Dylan had shown up was naive, no matter how capable he was. And her father was still in danger. “What’s the plan now?”

  “You tell me everything. We put our heads together and figure this out.”

  “I already said. He’s going to keep coming until both my father and I are dead. Dad said as much.” She rubbed her temples to stave off the headache threatening. It was a potent mix of frustration and exhaustion.

  “Then, we need to write another ending.” He touched her hand to reassure her but instead it sent fissures of heat swirling up her arm.

  “We can’t hide forever. Whoever is behind this will find us.” She hated how weak and fearful her own voice sounded. But she was afraid. And there was no use hiding it.

  Dylan’s gaze shifted from the rearview to the road as he jerked the steering wheel in another hard right turn. “We have company.”

  Horns blared as Dylan made a few quick turns, navigating the crowded streets of downtown. Samantha’s “fight, freeze or flight” response rocketed through the roof and she battled against the urge to jump out of the car and set out on foot.

  Traffic was so thick the black sedan couldn’t get close. Yet it kept pace with every turn six cars back.

  Dylan muttered a curse at the same time Samantha thought it. With Dylan involved, she feared the threats against her, her family and her friends were going to be delivered on.

  “I’m scared.” She hated admitting it, but acknowledging her feelings had always made them less overwhelming. Especially after her mother’s death.

  “Think of what you’ll be doing next week.”

  “What?” Damn weakness. Growing up in a house full of boys had taught her to fend for herself. Yet she was so out of her league here that her nerves were spiraling out of control. She needed to calm down and figure this out. Everything had happened so fast she hadn’t had a chance to process it.

  “You know what I’ll be doing?” he said, his calm voice settling over her.

  She shook her head.

  “I’ll be picking Maribel up from school about now.”

  The image of him, all muscle-and-steel man, tenderly holding his little girl, stirred her heart in ways she’d never experienced. She’d seen him at the grocery with Maribel a few times, witnessed his tenderness with his daughter.

  “You need to drop me off somewhere and go to her.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone, Samantha. End of conversation.” A mix of emotion played out across his features, determination rising to the top. “What about you? What are you going to be doing this time next week?”

  “My dad invited me to go fishing with him.” Her dad. Where was he? What have you done, Daddy?

  “Good. Focus on that when you get scared. Know that you will be sitting next to him on his boat, hauling in the largest catfish either of you have ever seen.”

  “That’s his favorite. Loves the taste of blues.”

  “The man has good taste.”

  Samantha had a clear mental picture, and it was working.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.” Much to her surprise, it was helping a little. Then again, Dylan’s confidence was addicting. She’d have to work harder to ignore the sensual shivers his touch brought.

  “Hand me the duffel.” His voice was level and calm, the complete opposite of the emotions still trilling through Samantha.

  “Okay. What now? What do we do?” The sheer amount of foot traffic on the sidewalk and the streets made it impossible to get away. If they didn’t make a move soon, the driver would edge his way closer until he could get a good shot.

  Dylan told her the address of the hideout.

  “On three, I want you to open that door and run into the alley. Don’t look back. No matter what happens, keep going. Got it?”

  “What if—?”

  “One...”

  The thought of splitting up and going in different directions had Samantha bracing for a full-on panic attack. She’d have to trust that Dylan knew what he was doing.

  Given what she’d been through in the past few days, the idea of trusting anyone was almost laughable.

  “Two...”

  He glanced at her as though searching for confirmation.

  She nodded and gripped the door handle.

  “Three. Go!”

  She pushed the door open and burst from the car, jolting toward the alley lined with parked vehicles until her thighs burned. Students were everywhere.

  Dodging in and out of the human obstacle course, she ran harder as panic mounted. An icy grip around her rib cage squeezed. Where was Dylan?

  She couldn’t even think of anything happening to him. His little girl needed him.

  The sound of shots fired made her knees wobble and the crowds scatter. She steadied herself and charged ahead, fighting the urge to look back, knowing that losing a precious second of advantage could cost her her life.

  Where was he?

  The absence of those intense green eyes on her was like being thrust into darkness. She’d do almost anything to see him again, to know he was okay. The only reason she missed him was because she hurt for his little girl, she tried to convince herself. Samantha knew what it was like to lose a parent. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d become her lifeline in a matter of hours. Everything about his presence was soothing.

  He’d risked his life to save her and she hadn’t had a chance to thank him yet.

  The thought of doing any of this withou
t him brought on deep physical pain. She told herself it was because of his professional skills and not because of his strength or virility.

  Except he had Maribel. And what if something happened to him?

  Samantha would never forgive herself.

  * * *

  DYLAN PARKED THE CAR and ran. He’d given Samantha a three-minute head start. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the bullet that lodged into the brick two feet from his head. As far as good days went, barely escaping a head shot didn’t rack up as one of them. With so many innocent civilians around, he wouldn’t return fire and risk a stray bullet.

  Zigzagging in and out of buildings, he cut left.

  Samantha had no phone or GPS to guide her. She’d have to rely on the instructions he’d given her. Since she was in an understandably stressed-out state, he couldn’t count on that happening.

  Risking a glance behind, he caught sight of two men following him. Neither broke off in Samantha’s direction. That was a win. Now all he had to do was shake them. Her theory of this being carried out by Thomas Kramer disintegrated. He’d worked alone, and whoever was behind this had resources.

  Dylan pushed his legs harder, faster. The guys behind him were already showing signs of fatigue.

  Good.

  As long as he kept his pace, he could outrun them. Ducking in between houses, he circled back. Samantha should be long gone, but if she was in trouble, he hoped he’d get there in time.

  The whop-whop-whop of a chopper sounded overhead; no doubt shots being fired had drawn police attention. He slid underneath a Suburban and waited.

  After sixty seconds, the chopper noise faded.

  Glancing around, he noted that the coast seemed clear of foot traffic, too.

  As he slid out from underneath the SUV, a blow to the head came out of nowhere. Dylan stumbled forward, checking his balance by grabbing the SUV. Without turning, he dropped to a squat and, with one leg extended, swept behind him.

  The contact was followed by a clunk, confirming a direct hit.

  Pivoting, Dylan covered the guy who’d hit him with a quick jab and then ran. He needed to locate Samantha. He could only pray that his diversion tactic had worked. He’d promised to protect her. The thought of her being vulnerable was a sucker punch to his gut. He told himself it was because she was counting on him and he didn’t want to let her down, and that it had nothing to do with the electricity humming inside him when she was near.

  He blocked the image of her lying in the alley somewhere, hurt, out of his mind.

  Focusing on their next steps, he decided his first action would be to change their appearances. The hideout would most likely have a much-needed change of clothes. He hoped she’d be there. Dylan covered the few blocks quickly.

  The key was with Big Mike, just as Brody had said.

  “I let in a lady several minutes ago,” Big Mike said. “Said her name was Samantha. She looked scared of her own shadow.”

  After a heartfelt handshake and a thank-you, Dylan headed around back and climbed up the wooden staircase.

  He slipped through the back door and waited.

  “Samantha,” he whispered. There was no sound of her. With DEFCON silence, he crept through the small apartment. The living room and kitchen were clear. He moved to the bedroom next, careful not to make a noise. If she was there, she wasn’t giving away her position. Why did that make his chest swell with pride?

  He pushed the thought out of his mind, reminding himself that women were good at hiding things when they wanted to be. All things done in darkness eventually came to light. What else was Samantha keeping from him?

  Out of his peripheral vision, he saw movement to his left inside the closet. A curtain acted as a makeshift door.

  Caution dictated that he make no assumptions. The person was most likely Samantha, but until he had a visual, he wouldn’t take it for granted. There was always the possibility that someone had gotten to her.

  Damn.

  Dylan took a step back.

  The curtain burst open and Samantha sprang toward him. She landed with her body flush with his, and he tried not to think about how long it had been since a woman had been in his arms.

  “Dylan. Thank God it’s you.” Shock was in her eyes and deeply written across the lines of her forehead. “I was so scared.”

  “Of course it is,” he soothed.

  She gulped in air and he could see her pulse racing wildly.

  “I’m here now. Everything’s okay,” he said, holding her.

  “They were so close and I heard the shot. Oh, God, I panicked.” She gulped another breath like a fish struggling out of water. “I—I—I didn’t know what to do, so I ran here as fast as I could.”

  Another swallow of air.

  She was about to hyperventilate.

  Dylan could either slap her or kiss her to snap her back to reality. Since he’d never once lifted a hand to a woman and had no plans to start now, the choice was clear. He dipped his head low and pressed his lips against hers, half expecting another knee to his groin in return.

  Shock registered when her lips moved against his and her fingers tunneled into his hair, deepening the kiss.

  She pulled away first, pushing him back a step and glaring at him. “We need to figure this out.”

  He threw his hands up in surrender. “I was just trying to calm you down. I’m here as your friend.”

  It was a kiss he wouldn’t forget anytime soon but a line that should never have been crossed, no matter how many times he’d wanted to do that in high school. Since high school.

  “You’d do well to remember that.” Her breathing had steadied, but she was angry. “We need a different plan. I can go to one of my brothers’ places. You can’t be involved.”

  “I’m sorry for what I did just now, but I still want to help.”

  Her head was already shaking. “Not a good idea. He was specific. I should’ve just gone to my brothers in the first place and not tried to figure this out on my own. Then, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Dylan figured he’d led this guy straight to her. What happened earlier was on him. His ringtone broke through the awkward moment. He immediately answered when he saw Brody’s name, noticing that he had a missed call.

  “There’s no good way to put this,” Brody started, and an ominous feeling rolled through Dylan.

  “Just come out with it.” This wasn’t going to be good. Waiting never made it better.

  A deep sigh came across the line. “I wanted to notify you before the Amber Alert was issued. Maribel is missing.”

  Chapter Four

  Dylan dropped to his knees. A dozen emotions pinged through his chest, rapid-fire like an AR-15 and with the same devastating effects. Rage battled to the surface, making him want to rip apart the first thing he could get his hands on. Ten years ago—hell, three—and he would’ve done just that. He was a different man now, and especially since Maribel had come into his life.

  The image of his little girl waving to him at the kitchen door wearing the Mickey Mouse backpack that was almost as big as she was assaulted him. His military training kicked in, and that was the only reason he didn’t explode in anger. It was the only thing keeping him from putting his fist through the nearest wall.

  “Tell me exactly how it happened,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “First of all, Mrs. Applebee tried to call. She didn’t want to lose time, so she immediately phoned me when she couldn’t reach you or Ms. Anderson.” Ms. Anderson was first on the emergency call list. Brody and Rebecca were second.

  “Maribel was on the playground at the Dinosaur Park,” Brody continued, “and teachers were stationed at each corner. Mrs. Applebee blew the whistle. Kids lined up. Teachers counted heads. They turned up one short.” Brody’s voice was racked with ag
ony.

  Dylan knew his friends loved Maribel, too. That wasn’t the thought he intended to focus on at the moment, and yet his brain didn’t want to accept the reality that she was missing.

  This had to be a mistake.

  “Any chance she’s inside somewhere? Hiding in one of the bathrooms at the ranger station?” he asked.

  “The headmaster checked each one personally. She and the staff looked in every possible nook and cranny. Mrs. Applebee called the sheriff to file a report immediately.”

  Dylan was four hours away in Austin while his daughter was probably scared half to death wandering around somewhere, lost. He didn’t even want to go there with the possibility she could be lost in the woods overnight. What kind of father was he to let this happen?

  He pushed to his feet.

  “We’re all searching for her. We’ll get her back. Stay positive, bro,” Brody said. His solemn tone belied his words. “This is not your fault.”

  Yes, it is. Guilt raided Dylan. He was supposed to be on that field trip. If he’d kept his schedule as planned, then Maribel would be safe right now and not out there alone, stranded, scared.

  It wasn’t like his daughter to wander off.

  Maybe Lyndsey had had good reason to be afraid that Dylan would be a lousy parent. She’d never really told him why she’d kept their daughter from him.

  Samantha took Dylan’s fisted hand, opened it and, palm to palm, wrapped her fingers around his. He squeezed hers and then let go. He walked across the room, turned toward the door and spoke low into his cell. “Have you spoken to the sheriff?”

  “Rebecca is trying to get through to him now. She’s been getting the runaround.” Brody paused a beat. “She’s sick about this. Said it’s all her fault for asking you for a favor.”