by Rita Herron
He parked in the graveled lot. Pickup trucks, SUVs and a few sedans filled the lot. Country music blared from the bar, smoke curling outside as they walked up to the door. A few patrons huddled by the fire pit on the rustic planked porch to the side, a gathering spot for smokers and people wanting to escape the loud music inside.
“I know Wanda had addiction problems, but I can’t see her hanging out here,” Tia said beneath the beat of the music as they walked to the entrance.
“But it would be a good spot for drug exchanges,” Ryder pointed out. “She slips in, orders a drink and leaves with a small package in her purse.”
Tia nodded. “I feel for her little boy. I kept hoping she’d get her act together, for his sake.”
“Addiction changes people,” Ryder said in a gruff voice. “They lose perspective.”
“That’s true,” Tia said softly. Sadness clouded her eyes. “After my folks died, I was prescribed antidepressants, but I didn’t like taking them and quickly stopped. I always thought that if I had a child and took care of him, my child would grow up healthy and happy. But...I failed him in the worst way.”
Ryder’s gut clenched. “This was not your fault, Tia.”
He pulled her up against him. Her labored breathing puffed against his neck as he rubbed one hand up and down her back to soothe her.
“Let’s just focus on finding your baby,” Ryder said in a low voice. “Hang in there, okay?”
She didn’t move for a second, but he felt her relax slightly against him.
He was not going to disappoint her or her baby. Jordie deserved to know his real mother, that she loved him.
The sentiment resurrected the memory of his twin brother’s visit. Cash had insisted their mother loved them.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to think or believe that his mother, Myra, had willingly accepted a stolen child.
If she had, she’d lied to him. And if that was true, he didn’t know if he could ever forgive that.
* * *
TIA BRACED HERSELF for the bar scene. She had to be tough. Not fall apart in Ryder’s arms.
It would feel so good if she could lean on him, though.
But leaning on a man wasn’t an option.
Especially this man—he had handcuffed her and hauled her to jail.
“You can go back to the car,” Ryder said. “I’ll handle this.”
Tia wasn’t a cop or federal agent, but the bar patrons hanging around outside in the parking lot didn’t incite a safe feeling. She was surprised there were so many here, too. Judging from the motorcycles, there must be a biker rally nearby.
“This is a seedy-looking crowd,” Tia pointed out. “I’d feel better going in with you.”
A tense heartbeat passed. For a moment, he looked around, sizing up the situation. When he settled his dark gaze on her, admiration for her mingled with concern in his eyes. “You’re right, but keep a low profile. Don’t forget that we were shot at earlier.”
Tia shivered. “How could I forget?”
Guilt flashed on his face. He didn’t have to remind her about their close call. She knew their search was dangerous.
That whoever had taken Jordie didn’t want to be found. That he or she would kill to get away.
But she didn’t care.
Being close to Ryder Banks was dangerous in another way.
Tia steeled herself against letting her guard down around him, though. He was a tough federal agent. He seemed intent on doing his job.
And he was sexy and strong—just the kind of man a woman wanted to lean on.
She’d seen enough women fall into that trap and come through Crossroads, broken and desperate and in need of help.
She would never forget the lessons she’d learned.
“Just stay beside me,” he growled as they went inside.
Tia put on a brave face.
She’d keep her eyes open and her senses alert. Maybe someone in the bar knew who had her son.
Chapter Twelve
Ryder tucked Tia close by his side and visually scoped out the bar as he entered. Protective instincts kicked in, and he looked for male predators, drunks on the watch for a one-night pickup who might target Tia, possible drug dealers or patrons who were high or looking to cut a deal.
Then Wanda.
He didn’t know the woman, but this establishment definitely boasted a rough crowd. Booze, conversation, flirting, boot-scooting music and hookups driven by beer and drugs created a chaotic atmosphere. No women with children inside and no couples with an infant.
He kept one hand on Tia’s lower back and guided her toward the bar. Two stools on the end opened up as a couple took to the dance floor, and he led her to it, then sank onto one of the stools.
The bartender, a cowboy with an eye for the ladies, slid two napkins in front of them. “What’ll you have?”
They weren’t here to drink, but he wanted to fit in. “Whatever you have on draft.” He slanted his gaze toward Tia with an eyebrow raise.
“The same.” She plucked a matchbook from the basket on the counter and rotated it between her fingers.
A robust guy wearing a bolo tie approached to her right, his short-cropped hair making his cheeks look puffy. He raked a gaze over Tia, then frowned and walked on past.
“Do you know that guy?” Ryder asked.
Tia studied him as she accepted her beer. “No. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Something about the way the man had looked at Tia raised questions in Ryder’s mind. Had he been simply assessing her to determine if she was single or if she was with him?
Or did he know who she was?
He took a sip of his beer, removed his phone and accessed a picture of Wanda, then laid the phone on the counter. He motioned for the bartender. “Do you know this woman?”
The bartender pulled at his chin as he glanced at it. “Seen her in a couple of times, but I don’t really know her.”
“Was she with anyone?” Ryder asked.
The bartender wiped the counter with a rag. “Not really.”
Ryder had to push. “Was she here to score some drugs?”
The bartender leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Listen, man, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but this is a legitimate place.”
“I’m not concerned about the drugs.” Ryder eased his credentials from his pocket and discreetly showed them to the man. Then he flicked a finger toward Tia. “This woman’s baby is missing. I’m looking for a lead on the kidnapper.”
Unease darkened the guy’s face. “I don’t know anything about a kidnapping.”
Tia touched the man’s hand, her eyes imploring. “Please think. Wanda may have taken my son. He’s only a few weeks old and he needs me.”
The man gestured for them to wait, took two young women’s orders, gave them their drinks, then returned with the bill.
He slid the check in front of Ryder as if dismissing them. But he’d scribbled a name at the bottom of the bill—Bubba.
“He holes up in an old shack behind the bar,” the bartender murmured.
“He took my baby?” Tia asked.
The guy shook his head. “No, but if anything was going on with Wanda, he’d know.”
Ryder tossed some cash on the bill to pay for their drinks, then shoved back. The big guy who’d been watching Tia stood by the door as they left, his scowl so intense that Ryder hesitated.
But the moment he returned the man’s lethal stare, he jammed his beefy hands in the pockets of his jacket and lumbered out the door.
Ryder stepped outside with Tia, his senses alert as he scanned the parking lot. The tip of a cigarette glowed against the dark night. The big guy folded himself inside a jacked-up black pickup, then sped off.
“Who was he?” Tia asked.
“No idea,” Ryder replied. “He was watching you inside, though.”
Tia shivered. “If Wanda wanted her son back, coming to this bar wasn’t the way to do it.”
“She made her choices,” Ryder said. He just wondered if taking Jordie was one of them. Ryder took Tia’s arm again. “The bartender said Bubba lives back here. Let’s find that shack.”
She fell into step beside him as they wove down the dark alley. The scents of garbage, smoke and urine filled the air, and Ryder led her past a homeless man sleeping in a cardboard box, which he’d propped behind a metal staircase.
Tia paused, her look sympathetic as if she wanted to offer the man assistance, but Ryder ushered her on. Ryder spotted the shack the bartender had referenced, a weathered structure with mud-and-dirt-coated windows.
Not knowing what to expect, he coaxed Tia behind him, removed his gun and held it by his side as he knocked.
A second later, a sound jarred him. Another popping sound, then an explosion.
He grabbed Tia and dragged her away from the building as the glass windows shattered and fire burst through the rotting wooden door.
* * *
TIA SCREAMED, DUCKING to avoid flying debris and glass as Ryder pushed her beneath the awning of a neighboring building. He covered her head with his arms and held her, his warmth and strength suffusing her as wood splintered and popped and glass pellets pinged around them.
She heaved for a breath, trembling as they waited for the worst to die down. Finally the force of the explosion settled, but fire blazed behind them, heat searing her.
Ryder breathed against her neck. “You okay?”
She nodded and turned in his arms to face him. He was mere inches away, his gruff expression riddled with anger and worry.
He felt so solid and strong against her, the weight of his body like a wall protecting her. His gaze raked over her face, then dropped to her eyes. A flicker of something masculine darkened his expression, causing a flutter in her belly that had nothing to do with the fact that they could have died in that explosion.
And everything to do with the fact that Ryder was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. “What happened?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
His chest rose and fell against hers as he inhaled a deep breath. “Someone warned Bubba we were coming.” Ryder rubbed her arms and lifted his body away from her. “My guess is that he was destroying evidence.”
“It was a meth lab?” Tia guessed.
“That’s what I’m thinking.” He pulled away, retrieved his phone, called for backup and a crime team.
Seconds later, a siren rent the air.
“What if Jordie was in there?” Tia said, panic flaring in her eyes.
“There’s no reason to think that.” Ryder squeezed her arm. “We’ll search the house, but meth dealers generally stick to the drug business.”
Still, fear paralyzed Tia as she looked back at the burning building.
* * *
THE NEXT TWO hours passed in a blur of law enforcement officers, rescue workers, firemen and DEA agents. The area was cleared due to fumes from the meth lab, forcing Ryder to get Tia away from the scene.
Thankfully the search indicated that no child or baby had been inside. In fact, no one, adult or otherwise, was inside when the building blew. The theory was that Bubba lit up the place to destroy evidence and any links to himself. Ryder was turning the case over to the DEA.
He had more important work to do.
His phone buzzed as he and Tia drove away from the chaotic scene. “Agent Banks.”
“Ryder, we have info on Wanda Hanson,” Gwen said. “A cashier at a convenience store called in that she stopped for gas, and confirmed she had a baby with her. No word if it’s a boy or girl or the age. But when she left the store, she drove across the street to a motel and checked in for the night.”
Ryder’s pulse jumped. “Text me the address. I’m on my way.”
“What was that about?” Tia asked as he ended the call.
“Wanda Hanson’s car was spotted. We’re heading there now.”
“Did she have Jordie?”
He bit his tongue to keep from offering her false hope. “I don’t know. We’ll find out.”
He pulled to the side of the road, entered the address into the GPS, then swung the SUV around and headed west, toward the highway where the motel was located.
Tia’s hands went into motion again, fidgeting and twitching. He laid his hand over hers. Her skin felt cold, clammy. “Try to relax. It’s about sixty miles from here.”
“What if she’s gone by the time we get there?” Fear made her voice warble.
“She checked into a room for the night.”
“Hopefully she’s feeding Jordie,” Tia said.
Ryder wanted to assure her that that was exactly what the woman was doing. But if she was high, drinking or coming down from a high, there was no telling what her mood would be.
Or if she’d even be coherent.
“Did Wanda have a gun?” he asked.
Tia’s brows pinched together as if she was thinking. “Not that I recall. Why? Did someone report seeing her with one?”
He shook his head and squeezed her hand again. “No, I was just asking. It’s better to be prepared.” She could have picked up a gun from a gun shop or borrowed one from a friend.
“When we get there, I need you to remain in the SUV,” Ryder said. “I’ll go to Wanda’s room and see if she’s home.”
“I’m going, too,” Tia whispered. “Jordie needs me.”
Ryder shifted back into agent mode. “Let me assess the situation, Tia. We can’t go in guns blazing or someone could get hurt.” Her. The baby.
“You’re right.” She released a shaky breath. “If Wanda is doing drugs or drunk, she might panic.”
“Right.” Half a dozen scenarios of how the situation could go bad flashed through his mind. He wasn’t green at this. Drug addicts and criminals weren’t predictable. And when they were backed into a corner, they did things they might never do under normal circumstances.
Tia lapsed into silence. Dark clouds rolled in as the truck ate the miles, the occasional howl of a wild animal breaking the quiet. Traffic thinned, deserted farmland and broken-down shanties a reminder that this highway led out of town and into the vast wilderness.
A good place to hide or get lost. Or disappear with a stolen child.
Ryder sped up and passed a slow moving car, then checked the clock. The minutes rolled into half an hour.
Wanda Hanson was not going to get away tonight, though. Not if she had Jordie Jeffries with her.
* * *
TIA GRIPPED THE edge of the seat as Ryder pressed the accelerator and took the curve on two wheels. His calm demeanor was meant to soothe her, but his big body was tense, hands clenching the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.
In spite of what he said, he was anxious to get to the motel in case Wanda didn’t stay the night.
She fought panic as the time passed.
“Ryder, what if Wanda is meeting someone at the motel? She could be giving Jordie to that person.”
Ryder’s thick brow rose. “Just try to keep up the faith.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, fighting thoughts of the worst-case scenario—that Wanda had disposed of Jordie.
As they neared the motel she noticed a truck pulling an oversize load was parked on the side of the road, a tiny house behind it.
Cheap neon lights glowed ahead, illuminating a graveled parking lot. Ryder veered into the lot and parked between an SUV and a pickup. Two minivans and a sedan were parked at the opposite end, and another vehicle stood in front of the corner unit.
“That�
��s Wanda’s van,” he said as he killed the engine.
“Do you know which room she’s in?” Tia asked.
“Gwen talked to the motel manager. Room twelve, at the end.”
Tia zeroed in on the corner unit. A low light burned inside, shrouded by the motel’s thin curtains.
Ryder eased his weapon from his holster and reached for the door handle. “Stay here.”
Tia nodded, but as Ryder left the SUV and walked toward the minivan, adrenaline and fear made her open her door and follow. Her footsteps crunched on gravel as she hurried up behind Ryder.
He cut her a sharp look. “I told you to wait in the SUV.”
Tia peered through the front window of the minivan, but the windows were tinted, making it difficult to see.
Ryder pulled a small flashlight from his belt and shined it inside, waving it across the front seat. No one there.
He moved to the side window and shined the light across the backseats. Tia’s breath caught.
A car seat.
“Look,” she whispered. “She has an infant carrier, and there are baby toys.”
Ryder gripped her arm. “We have to be careful, Tia. We don’t want to spook her. If she has a weapon, this could go south.”
Panic seized Tia. If that happened, Wanda might hurt Jordie.
“Trust me,” he said on a deep breath.
Ryder’s gaze met hers, his dark eyes steady. Determined.
Odd that she did want trust him, especially after he’d arrested her. But she did. “You’re in charge.”
Tension vibrated between them for a long second. The air stirred around them, bringing the scent of damp earth and garbage. An engine rumbled, doors opened and slammed, and a child’s voice echoed in the wind as a family climbed out, gathering toys and suitcases as they walked to their room.
They passed several rooms, then a housekeeping cart. Tia lifted a set of towels from the cart along with a pillow. Ryder nodded in silent agreement and they passed two more rooms, then paused at the last unit.
His right hand covered his weapon, which he held by his side as he knocked with his left.