by Mary Stone
Her phone pinged. Pull to the side of the road.
Not even bothering to be surprised that the villainous man knew her exact location, Mirabel did as she was told. She shifted into park and craned her neck to inspect her surroundings. She didn’t like what she saw.
No one else was around. No other cars, no anything, except what appeared to be a deep ravine to her right. Beyond the ravine, day slowly gave way to night, and despite her nerves, Mirabel couldn’t help but admire the riot of reds and oranges streaking across the sky, courtesy of the cloud-camouflaged sun.
A shrill ring interrupted Mirabel’s trance, and she yelped before realizing it was her phone. The panic subsided, and her lip curled as anger fired within her every cell. Nine years. That was how long she’d been working for the Marshals. Nine years of her dealing with some of the worst of society and yet arrogantly believing she could continue unscathed indefinitely.
A mentor had once given Mirabel some serious advice. “Those of us who work in law enforcement all pay a price eventually, one way or another.” At the time, Mirabel had merely smiled and dismissed his claim.
Not her.
She was careful. She ate healthy, meditated, did yoga. Kept her personal information under lock and key. Didn’t post photos of her children anywhere on the internet. She did everything she’d convinced herself would protect her and her family from the ugly side of her job. Only now did she fully understand her mentor’s warning.
Slipping the Sig P365 from her purse, she checked that the magazine was full before placing the gun in her coat pocket. She’d never killed anything before, but she’d kill this man if needed. Gladly.
Mirabel’s skin buzzed with the need to do something. She shifted her weight in the seat and reached for the door handle before switching gears at the last second and wiping at the growing cloud of moisture fogging up her driver’s side window. The text had instructed her to wait in the car, so that was what she’d do. Wait, even if her body was desperate to move.
She was close to crawling out of her own skin when she spotted headlights in the distance. They glided toward her like a beast in the night: slow, calculated, predatory. The sedan slowed as it approached and pulled up beside her.
Her phone pinged. Show me your hands.
Mirabel dug her nails into her palms before doing what he said. Had he seen the gun somehow, or was he just being extra cautious?
When the driver stepped out, she took in every detail she could see. Around six feet tall with broad shoulders, the man wore dark jeans and a plain black sweatshirt. A ski mask prevented Mirabel from further observation.
Without so much as a glance her way, the man headed for the back of his car. There was an audible click, and then the trunk flew open.
Mirabel gasped. Had that monster shoved her babies in the trunk? What if they couldn’t breathe in there? A knot clogged Mirabel’s throat as she smashed her face to the window in an attempt to get a better view.
The man pulled her children from the trunk, one at a time, and gripped them each by an elbow.
Horrible, but they were standing. Her babies were okay.
A strangled sob escaped Mirabel’s lips as she fumbled for the handle, threw open the door, and jumped out. “Liam! Ava!”
“Mommy!”
Two little bodies propelled their way to her at a dead sprint. They launched themselves into her arms with such force that Mirabel staggered backward under their combined weight. She regained her balance and squeezed them tight, relishing the sweet feeling of their warmth pressed up next to her.
She laughed and sobbed and inhaled the sweet scent of their apple blossom shampoo. She was filled with a wave of maternal love so fierce she had to force her arms to release the pair because she never wanted to let them go.
There would be time when they got home for her to smother them with kisses and love and check to make sure they hadn’t been harmed in any way. Right now, she needed to get them all to safety.
With that in mind, she hurried to open the back door and guide their shivering bodies inside. First Ava, then Liam. Before she could close the door, the driver appeared at her side, his gloved hand clamping down on her arm.
“The list?”
With fingers that felt numb, Mirabel pulled the folded paper from her pocket. Her fingers brushed the steel of the gun, but from the way he squeezed her bicep, she knew she wouldn’t be able to pull it out, let alone lift it high enough to aim at anything important.
She just needed to give him what he wanted and go. She’d let Seth and the others track him down afterward. Maybe…
A part of her, a very cowardly part of her, knew that she’d never say a single word about this day to anyone. She didn’t want to be targeted again.
Lord, please forgive me for what I’m about to do and protect those three people on the list.
She extended the paper toward the man. She was so distracted by the way he whipped his hand out to grab it that she never saw his other fist coming. Pain exploded in her cheek, and Mirabel flew backward before crashing to the ground.
The toe of a boot connected with her temple, and her world dimmed even further as a loud ringing filled her ears. And pain, there was so much pain. Her face, but also her lungs. It was like someone had parked a car on her chest.
Mirabel gasped, and air wheezed down her throat. As awareness slowly returned, cries and screaming prickled her consciousness. She frowned, wincing as the motion made fresh pain explode in the side of her face. As her mind desperately tried to piece together the events of the last few minutes, her body jerked, then lifted. The screaming grew more distinct.
Her kids. Ava and Liam.
Her eyelids flew open, her gaze landing on the man in the ski mask. Her memory came crashing back, and Mirabel began to writhe in his grip. She flung an elbow into his abdomen, but either he was too strong or she was too weak for it to make an impact.
“I gave you the names! Please, put me down!”
A low chuckle was her only answer. The amused sound increased her panic by several degrees.
“You don’t have to do this.” She pushed at his shoulders, tried raking her fingers in his eyes. In response, he clamped her so tight against his chest, she couldn’t move. Could barely speak. “I won’t talk. I won’t say a—”
Without warning, the man threw her inside the open driver’s door, and the sudden jolt of her head filled her vision with flashing, agonizing light. She screamed, and bile rose in her throat as darkness threatened to consume her once again. She gritted her teeth against the pain and nausea.
No. Must stay awake. Liam. Ava. Need me.
Focusing on her children’s sobs, Mirabel fought to remain conscious. This might be their only chance to escape. She felt for the gun in her pocket but couldn’t seem to find it. Where had it gone?
“Shhh, babies. It’s going to be okay. Mommy’s here now.”
At the sound of her voice, the children’s sobs subsided into whimpers. There. She’d be okay once she caught her breath and her head stopped spinning. As soon as her vision cleared, she’d fight back. Grab her babies and make a run for it.
She thrashed at a new pressure against her chest, but when her hands flew up to fight, all she grabbed was a thick fabric strap. Her seat belt. Why had this horrible man fastened her seat belt?
A blurry figure filled her vision, and she tried to slap the dark demon away. It didn’t go. Instead, it reached past her, doing something to the gearshift before turning the steering wheel in a clockwise rotation. While her mind was still trying to make sense of what was happening, a hand fell above her right knee, fingers biting into her muscle.
“What—?”
The Enclave roared as her foot pressed onto the gas pedal. The awful reality hit Mirabel when the SUV launched forward, taking a hard right turn. The man hung on to the door, his foul presence remaining at her side…pressing…pressing…
No. No! This can’t be happening.
She pumped the brake with he
r other foot, but she was too late. It was done.
As the man jumped away and the Enclave’s nose dipped down, Mirabel remembered her third-grade teacher sharing Newton’s law. “An object in motion stays in motion…”
Her body went weightless. The first few moments when the heavy SUV caught air were peaceful, like floating in a hot air balloon. The children must have found it peaceful as well because neither of them said a word.
“…unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.”
The front end crashed against the rocky crevice, catapulting the vehicle into the first of many somersaults.
The last thing Mirabel heard before her forehead cracked the windshield was the high-pitched sounds of her children. “Mommy!”
“Mommy’s here,” she whispered as the SUV tumbled two-hundred feet down the rocky ravine. She reached back between the seats, longing to touch them one last time. “Mommy’s here.”
2
Ellie Kline set the last take-out container of Pad Thai shrimp on the table next to Jillian, the cardboard hot on her fingers, before scooting into a chair beside her. “That’s all of it, dig in.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Jillian grabbed the yellow curry chicken and scooped a healthy serving onto her plate before passing the food to Jacob Garcia. Jacob was Ellie’s former partner at the Charleston Police Department, but he’d grown into Jillian’s real-life partner. The two had been dating for months.
Ellie grinned at the lovebirds, so glad that her two best friends had found happiness together. The grin widened when her stomach rumbled in response to the delicious spicy-sweet aroma wafting her way. She pressed her hand to her belly to shut the beast up.
The growling was so loud that Jillian paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and snickered. “You know, if you ate once in a while, maybe your stomach would be less vocal.”
Jacob snorted as he helped himself to a serving of Pad Thai. “So, what you’re saying is, Ellie should start eating every half hour instead of every hour?”
Ellie shrugged, unbothered by their good-natured teasing. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.” She liked food. She especially liked food when it was shared around her dining room table with her closest friends.
“I still think it feels a little weird eating out of cardboard boxes while sitting at this fancy table with that even fancier light overhead.” Jacob gestured to the elegant crystal chandelier that glittered like diamonds above the exquisite dark dining set. “Shouldn’t we be serving the food out of china or something?”
Ellie waited until she swallowed a bite of sweet, pan-fried noodles before responding to her former partner’s joke. “The rule is, whoever uses it, washes it. Oh, and by the way, my mother insists that the family china be washed by hand.”
At the mention of Helen, Ellie’s perfectly-put-together mother and more-than-a-little intimidating matron of the elite Charleston, South Carolina Kline family, Jacob lifted his hands in surrender. “On second thought, take-out containers are perfect, Eleanor.”
The way he said Ellie’s given name sounded suspiciously like her mother.
Jillian Reed rolled her eyes at the man she was dating before breaking into an indulgent laugh. Across the table, Clay Lockwood broke into a faint smile. Proof that even special agents with the FBI had at least some sense of humor.
Ellie surveyed them, a warm glow filling her. All her favorite people, living here in one place. Ellie could barely remember what it used to feel like, back when she’d lived alone in this giant four-bedroom luxury apartment in the building her parents purchased when she insisted on moving out of their family home.
That was before she’d met Jillian Reed in the basement of the Charleston Police Department. Ellie and the petite blonde evidence clerk had become fast friends, so the natural thing to do when Jillian’s landlord objected to her big goofy mutt, Sam, living in her old building was for Ellie to invite her friend to move in.
Clay cleared his throat, drawing Ellie’s attention across the table to the handsome, dark-haired Texan cowboy she’d met while working a trafficking case. The FBI agent had charmed her almost immediately with his easy-going nature and lack of arrogance. Clay’s eyes met hers, and the flash of yearning she detected in their brown depths sent an electric current racing across Ellie’s skin.
She shifted in the chair and dropped her eyes to her plate. Having Clay Lockwood as a temporary roommate was…complicated. As much as she liked him, Ellie still hadn’t completely forgiven him for his role in setting Katarina Volkov free, and worse, letting the vile woman take her innocent daughter with her. Even under the protection and guidance of WITSEC marshals, and even though Katarina would have to undergo extensive therapy and parenting training, it just felt wrong.
Very wrong.
But that was how law enforcement sometimes worked, she knew. You tossed the smaller fish back in the pond in order to catch the larger ones. Plus, setting Katarina free wasn’t Clay’s doing, she knew. The orders had come straight from the Attorney General, whose only concern was the information Katarina could give him. If Clay hadn’t been involved in convincing her to turn state’s evidence, someone else would have.
But still…he could have fought it harder. Done something more. Not tossed that little girl to that wolf. What he could have done, she still didn’t know. She just knew little Harmony had been living with the treacherous woman for two months now, and Ellie could only pray that the sweet girl was safe.
Not that anyone had done anything to keep Katarina safe when she’d been Harmony’s age, Ellie knew. Katarina, named Marcella at the time, had been thrown to the biggest wolf of them all…Lawrence Kingsley. There was a part of Ellie that felt terribly sorry for Katarina. Maybe being with her daughter could make a difference.
A hand came down on Ellie’s shoulder, and she jerked her attention back to the present. Jillian gave her a little squeeze before dropping her hand away. “You okay?”
Ellie stabbed her fork into a bite of food. “Of course. My mind just wandered a bit.” She glanced over at Clay to find his gaze on her. It was time to let it all go, she knew. The past couldn’t be changed. She smiled at the agent. Relief flooded her when he smiled back.
He was important to her, and she needed to get down off her high horse and realize that everyone was just doing the best they could with the shitty circumstances they’d been handed.
Ellie was deeply glad he was here…for several reasons. His company, sure, but also because she felt safe around him. Ellie appreciated both him and Jacob taking up residence in her home after a stalker planted a bomb in her Audi.
The stalker hadn’t planned on one thing, though. Ellie had been out of town on a case, so Jillian was the one using her car. The chicken Ellie chewed turned to ash as she remembered how close her friend had come to dying in the explosion. If it hadn’t been for Ellie’s custom keyless ignition, the paramedics would have been scraping Jillian off the concrete, one tiny piece at a time.
Ellie grabbed her glass of water and guzzled it down, trying to wash away the bile burning her throat.
Clay wrinkled his brow at her before launching into a discussion of his recent Florida trafficking case. Almost like he’d recognized that she’d needed a distraction. Yet another reason she was glad he was here…he knew her well.
He was in the middle of sharing that six more of the children illegally adopted by a smarmy attorney in Florida had been located when a loud buzz cut Clay off mid-sentence. All four of them searched for the culprit, which turned out to be Ellie’s phone, dancing its way across the table. “Oops, sorry.”
Ellie grabbed the device with the intention of dismissing the call but frowned when the notifications caught her eye. Six missed calls, all from the same unknown number. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Wasn’t 503 a Portland area code?
“It’s probably nothing, but I’d better take this just in case.” She shoved her chair back and jumped to her feet. “Hello, Detective Ellie Kline.”
> “Ellie!” Her name burst through the speaker, forcing her to pull the phone away several inches. “Oh, thank god, you finally answered! Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours!” The words came out in a frenzied rush, but even though his voice was higher-pitched and much louder than she’d ever heard him speak, Ellie recognized the caller instantly.
She hurried around the corner and into her bedroom, shutting the door so as not to disturb her friends. “Gabe? Is that you?”
“Yes, and I’ve been trying to reach you for the last few hours. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m freaking out here. I think I’m in trouble, and I need your help.”
Despite the pleasant temperature inside her apartment, Ellie shivered. The fact that the usually soft-spoken Gabe Fisher was calling her in an obvious panic did not bode well.
Once the assistant to the notorious sociopath Dr. Lawrence Kingsley, Gabe Fisher had risked his life to help Ellie and Jillian escape the murderer’s clutches by shooting Kingsley’s partner-in-crime…the former Charleston PD psychologist, Dr. Earnest Powell. As a result of his heroic actions, Gabe had likely propelled himself to the top of Kingsley’s personal most wanted list, leading Ellie to help him enter into the U.S.M.S. WITSEC program.
The marshals had whisked Gabe away—apparently to Portland she’d just learned—under a new identity, issuing him strict instructions to keep him safe. One of those rules was no contact with people from his former life.
Ellie hoped that Gabe was overreacting. For his sake.
“Slow down and tell me what’s going on. You know you’re putting yourself in danger by breaking protocol.”
“It’s an emergency. I promise I wouldn’t be calling you otherwise.”
An odd wheezing emitted from Ellie’s speaker. It took her a second to comprehend the noise. “Are you hyperventilating?” Gabe choked out an indecipherable reply that Ellie accepted as confirmation. “Okay. I’m here now, so why don’t you take some deep, slow breaths to calm down, and then tell me what’s going on.”
“O-okay.”