by Cindi Myers
A half a sandwich, a bottle of water and about an hour and a half later, Emily watched on her phone’s display as Jaycee cruised past Tucson. She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. Did this chick really intend to cross the border?
If she did, maybe Marcus should just let her go. Maybe Jaycee and the baby could keep safe by getting lost in Mexico. But Marcus didn’t want to let Jaycee go, and he wanted to keep the baby safe from Jaycee. Emily hadn’t even informed her client of this second threat stalking his son, but it wouldn’t surprise him.
Marcus knew all about the company Jaycee kept and her lifestyle, making him fear for the baby’s safety. He’d hired Emily to watch out for the baby until he could prove his paternity and get his ducks in a row before making a move for custody.
This little excursion of Jaycee’s would give Marcus even more ammunition.
Emily’s gaze darted to her phone and the red dot heading west. Did Jaycee plan to spend the night somewhere before crossing over? Or was she waiting for nightfall before making that surreptitious journey?
Five minutes later, Emily took the same exit—to Paradiso, a small Arizona border town.
Jaycee’s car had stopped, and Emily blew out a breath. She could be a lot more inconspicuous in this little hick border town than in Mexico. If Jaycee decided to stay put in Paradiso, Emily would be able to watch her and the baby better. Then Marcus could take over and do whatever he needed to do to get his son back.
Emily sucked in her bottom lip when she turned off the main road running through the town. She’d expected Jaycee to hole up at a hotel. If she were staying with a friend, surveillance would be more difficult.
As she rolled past a grove of leafy trees, Emily buzzed down her window and sniffed the air, which had a slightly sweet smell. Who knew orchards grew in the middle of the desert?
She squinted and scanned the long, empty road ahead. Jaycee must’ve pulled into the gates on the right. Nothing else but trees stretched on either side of the road. The house behind those gates must be set back from the street because Emily could see just the top of it.
Emily pulled into a turnoff well beyond the gates and dug in her bag for a pair of binoculars. She leaned out the car window and focused on the entrance to the property. She could research the records later for the owners and their connection to Jaycee.
She had barely settled in for her little watch party when Jaycee’s car flew out of the gates, kicking up dust.
Emily pulled her head back in the car and tossed the binoculars onto the seat next to her. “Damn. On the road again.”
She followed Jaycee into town and to a gas station on the edge of it. The woman hadn’t made her once on the trip down and wouldn’t take notice of another car fueling up.
After Jaycee got her gas, she walked into the mini-mart to pay, but she didn’t have the baby with her. No wonder Marcus was concerned. That action right there screamed negligence. She’d add it to her list for Marcus’s custody battle.
With her palms sweating, Emily scrambled from her car and strolled past Jaycee’s at the pump. She glanced into the back seat of Jaycee’s little compact and tripped, clutching a hand to her throat.
What had Jaycee done with the baby?
* * *
BORDER PATROL AGENT NASH DILLON logged off his computer and stretched his arms to the ceiling. It had been a rough few weeks after he’d come back from the rodeo in Wyoming. That headless body at the border before he’d left had ushered in a floodgate of information about a cartel’s tunnels between the US and Mexico, and Border Patrol had been dealing with the fallout ever since.
As Nash locked his desk drawer, Valdez, a new agent, called out to him, “Hey, Dillon, do you have women tracking you down at work now?”
“I hope not.” Nash grabbed his hat from the corner of his desk. “Someone looking for me?”
“A woman called earlier and asked if you were working today and what time you’d be off.” Valdez winked. “Maybe you got a surprise waiting for you.”
“God, I hope not.” Nash clapped his hat onto his head. “You didn’t give her any information, did you?”
Valdez’s baby face sported two red spots on his cheeks. “I—I told her you were off at five.”
“Valdez.” Nash shook his head. “Someone needs to teach you some basics.”
“Sorry. She sounded...sweet.”
“They all sound sweet, Valdez—until they’re not.” He leveled a finger at the green agent. “Do not ever give out information like that about anyone in this office. Got it?”
“Got it, Chief.” Valdez touched his fingers to his forehead. “Let me know if she is sweet.”
Nash fired a crumpled napkin at Valdez’s grinning mug and stepped into the early summer heat of the Sonoran Desert. He shook out his sunglasses and perched them on his nose before sliding into his truck.
He hoped one of those women who followed the rodeo circuit in the Southwest hadn’t tracked him down. His day hadn’t put him in any mood to hang out with a woman tonight—even a sweet one.
He snorted. Not too many sweet ones around as far as he could tell.
He drove through town, grumbling under his breath about the traffic. Even Tucson drivers would scoff at his idea of traffic, but Paradiso had been growing thanks in large part to his family’s groves of pecan trees. His family used to ship the pecans to be processed and packed, but some savvy business people decided to bring the processing to the pecans. The new processing plant had brought jobs, people and...traffic.
He turned onto the road that led to those pecans and his house, rolling his shoulders and blowing out a long breath. Peace, quiet and a cold beer waited for him beyond those gates.
He stopped at the front entrance to his property and picked up the mail. His tires crunched over the gravel as he made his way up the circular drive.
He threw his truck into Park and snatched his hat from the seat next to him. He exited the truck, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. He took two steps toward his porch and jerked to a halt.
A misshapen object draped with a blanket greeted him on the second step. His hand hovered over the gun in his belt.
The last delivery to a Border Patrol agent’s porch had turned out to be a severed head in a box.
Nash twisted around and scanned the entrance to his driveway through narrowed eyes. Then he glanced at the camera at the corner of his house recording everything. Whoever had dropped off this present would’ve been captured on video.
His nerve endings alight, he stalked to the porch. Standing on the first step, he reached out and swept the powder blue blanket from the object beneath.
The object blinked and yawned, and Nash stared down into the face of a baby.
Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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ISBN-13: 9781488067464
Running Out of Time
Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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re either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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