by Laura Scott
Not take out anyone perceived to be a threat.
After doing a little more recon, Ryker decided to buy a pair of binoculars and hide out in the tree house located catty-corner from Seth’s house.
An hour later, he was safely settled in the tree house, savoring the partially obstructed view of Seth’s driveway and front door. The garage was out of sight, but if a car pulled into the drive, he’d see it.
Ignoring the discomfort, he watched and waited. Being here like this reminded him of his tour in Afghanistan. The temperature was unseasonably cool for June, which was better than the heat and dust he’d experienced overseas.
Activity in the neighborhood picked up around dinnertime as residents returned home after a long day of work. He was about to give up on Seth ever returning home, when he finally caught a glimpse of a dark blue car pulling into the driveway.
He sharpened the scopes on the binocs and felt a surge of satisfaction when he recognized Seth’s face behind the wheel. The guy glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if sensing Ryker’s gaze, before the car rolled out of sight, presumably into the garage.
Ryker watched for several minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Seth through the living room window. But the windows were all covered with blinds in a way that indicated Seth was taking precautions to remain hidden.
Because he was in trouble with the Blake-Moore Group? Or because it was second nature to him, the way it was to any soldier who’d seen combat?
There was no way of knowing for sure, but he hoped there was a way to convince Seth to cooperate once he had him alone.
Which might prove to be a problem. Seth was bunkered down in the house and Ryker didn’t exactly relish breaking in.
He sat back against the rough-hewn boards of the tree house. How could he get Seth to come out of the house? He snapped his fingers as an idea came to him.
A diversion.
Digging into the front pocket of his black jeans, he pulled out a lighter. He’d never smoked but had learned that they were handy devices when you needed to start a fire in the woods.
Or, in this case, a small fire to draw Seth out of the house.
The minutes dragged by slowly, turning into one hour, then two. By seven o’clock, the normal brightness was dimmed by the dark clouds accumulating overhead. Thanks to the impending storm, he was able to make his move earlier than planned.
After leaving the tree house, he made his way to the garbage and recycling bins sitting curbside a few doors down. Rummaging in the recycle bin provided him with discarded newspaper.
Moving slowly and quietly, he once again went through the unkempt yard to the rear of Seth’s house. Crouching behind the bush, he could see a tiny bit of light around the blinds of the kitchen window.
He looked for a vent that might lead inside. A dryer vent, maybe? There wasn’t one anywhere in sight. After agonizing for several minutes, he made a quick dash to the back door.
There was a screen door covering the interior one. Twisting the handle, he found it wasn’t locked, although the inside one was.
He found a large rock and used it to prop open the screen door. Then he balled the newspaper and set it on fire.
Stepping back from the door, he pressed himself against the side of the house and waited. The scent of smoke was strong, but he couldn’t be sure any of it was actually getting inside.
But his patience was rewarded when the door abruptly opened. “What in the world—”
Ryker jumped over the burning paper, which was quickly becoming nothing but ashes, forcing Seth backward into the house.
Having been caught off guard, Seth tried to fight. He swung at Ryker, but Ryker slid to the side and grabbed Seth’s arm, pulling him off-balance. They tumbled to the floor, Seth continuing to struggle. But Ryker had a position of strength, not to mention sheer determination. He had to find out what the Blake-Moore Group wanted with Olivia.
Finally, he had Seth pinned to the floor. “Tell me what I need to know and you’ll live to see another day.”
Seth glared up at him, his mouth pulled into a grim line. He didn’t say a word, which wasn’t unexpected.
Each of the mercenaries he’d come up against so far had been the exact same way. Too well trained to talk, to rat out their comrades. Unless they happened to be semiconscious.
Ryker was tired of the act.
Thunder boomed overhead and within moments rain began to fall. He was glad to know the fire he’d started would be out soon.
“You won’t talk? Fine, just listen. I was one of the men who helped take down Tim Habush and Colin Yonkers. You want to be next? Fine with me. But you should know that we’re onto Kevin Blake and Harper Moore. They’re not going to win this thing, do you understand? We will not stop until we take them down.”
Still nothing. With an abrupt move, Seth tried to twist out of Ryker’s grip, but he’d been expecting it, and managed to stay on top, tightening the pressure.
“There’s an innocent pregnant woman and child in the middle of this mess. Do you really want to be responsible for their deaths? A pregnant woman and her baby? A three-year-old boy?”
Something flared in Seth’s eyes and Ryker felt certain the news of Olivia’s pregnancy had caught the guy off guard.
Good. He needed something, anything to convince the man to talk.
“Why are mercenaries from Blake-Moore coming after Olivia Habush?”
No response.
“What possible threat could a pregnant woman be to their organization?”
Still nothing, but again the flicker in Seth’s eyes betrayed the fact that Tim’s cousin hadn’t known about the baby.
Maybe there was at least one line the mercenary wouldn’t cross.
“I have all night, Willis. I’m not leaving until I get what I want.”
Seth glanced away, focusing on some spot behind Ryker’s ear. He hoped and prayed the slight movement meant the guy’s resistance was weakening.
He really didn’t want to be here all night.
“Are you worried about Blake-Moore seeking retaliation against you? I can help you get away from them. I happen to be on a first-name basis with Senator Rick Barton and he has friends in the FBI. I’m sure we can arrange protection.”
Seth’s eyes met his briefly, then slid away, staring blindly at the same spot behind his ear.
“It’s your funeral.” Ryker lowered his voice in a tone that he hoped sounded threatening. “It’s one thing to die serving our country, but do you really want to die for Blake-Moore? What have they done for you?”
Another long silence, but the way Seth’s mouth tightened made him think he was finally getting through.
“You’re not the first to die over this.” He hadn’t intended to kill anyone, but Seth didn’t need to know that. “I took out the first two mercenaries who came after Olivia, then took care of two more. How many others does Blake-Moore have in their back pocket? You’re disposable, Willis. They don’t care about you. All they want is Olivia. When you’re dead, they’ll easily find a replacement.” He leaned down, getting into Seth’s face. “They won’t miss you when you’re gone.”
Seth’s expression remained stoic but Ryker felt certain his words were getting under Seth’s skin. What he’d said about the Blake-Moore Group was true. They wouldn’t care one bit if Seth died here tonight.
“Numbers.”
The word was so unexpectedly familiar, he wondered if he’d imagined it. “Numbers? Blake-Moore is looking for numbers?”
“Yeah.”
Ryker waited for him to elaborate. “I need more, Seth. Why is Olivia involved? Do they think she has these numbers? And what are they related to?”
“I want protection.”
Ryker wondered if this was a trap. If the minute he let up on the pressure, Seth would fight to get away. “I can get Senator Barto
n and the FBI to provide protection. If you cooperate with me. But so far, you’ve given me squat.”
“Bank accounts.” Seth’s body relaxed beneath his, but Ryker didn’t let up. “Tim and Colin were skimming from the company.”
That was an angle he hadn’t considered. At the same time, it wasn’t a complete surprise. Men who would threaten to kill innocent women and children would just as easily steal from their employer.
“They think Olivia has access to the bank accounts?” He remembered the receipts in Olivia’s house.
“I don’t know. I walked away after Tim and Colin died. Decided I wasn’t going to put my life on the line for Blake-Moore.” His tone was bitter. “I work as a hospital security guard now. The money isn’t great, but I’m dating a nurse, which is better than getting shot at.”
It was. “I’m going to let you up. But if you try anything, you’ll never get the protection you need.”
Seth nodded, his gaze weary. Ryker surged to his feet. He checked the fire he’d started, made sure any lingering flames were out, then rattled off the personal phone number for Senator Rick Barton. Seth scrambled for a piece of paper and a pen, taking notes.
Ryker now had the information he’d come for, but it wasn’t very helpful. Olivia hadn’t known about her husband’s embezzling.
Had she?
He strode toward the doorway, determined to find out.
ELEVEN
On a whim, Ryker decided to stop at Olivia and Tim’s house prior to heading back to the motel. Logically, he didn’t think there would be additional clues to uncover. Certainly someone from Blake-Moore would have already checked out the place, but he figured it was worth a shot.
And it wouldn’t take too long.
Remembering the stack of receipts he’d found back in December made him think there was a slim possibility that there may be something valuable buried in there. Were they all just receipts for household items? Or was there something important hidden in plain sight?
The place looked even more forlorn and neglected than before. It occurred to him that once the danger was over, Olivia and Aaron would have a home to return to. The house was hers, if she could continue making the payments.
Which made him wonder if the bank was on the brink of foreclosing on the property already. For her sake, he hoped not.
The back door was still unlocked, the way it had been six months ago. As he entered, the sour milk smell hit hard, worse than before, and intermingled with other rotten food likely from the fridge. The interior looked just as bad as last time he’d been there, but not much worse. Blake-Moore had evidently tried to cover their tracks, leaving no obvious signs behind.
He found the receipts in the kitchen, appearing untouched from his last visit. Quickly reviewing a few of them didn’t reveal anything interesting, but he swept them into a pile to take back to the motel anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to go through them one by one.
Scanning the interior of the house, he tried to think about where proof of the bank accounts may be. Was there a ledger stashed somewhere? Or some other place where bank-account numbers were written down? If there was, the men Blake-Moore had sent should have found them, but maybe they hadn’t looked hard enough.
He could only hope they’d missed something.
He worked his way methodically through the house, feeling a bit like he was invading Olivia’s privacy, especially when it came to searching the master bedroom. Yet he didn’t find anything remotely related to bank-account information. Just as he was about to leave, he hesitated, then decided he should pack a bag for Olivia, knowing she’d love fresh clothes to wear.
At least the trip here wouldn’t be a total waste of time.
When he’d finished packing some of Olivia’s and Aaron’s things, he searched Aaron’s room. A child’s bedroom would be a great hiding spot. He lifted the mattress off the small bed, and searched the box of Pull-Ups that had been left behind, along with the dresser drawers and closet.
Nothing.
Dejected, he returned to the kitchen, grabbed the receipts and stuffed them into an empty envelope. After placing the envelope in the overnight bag, he swung it over his shoulder and left the house the way he’d come. As he made his way back to his vehicle, he decided to ask Olivia about the mortgage payments. If she wanted a place to return to once the danger was over, he could help make the house payments until things had settled down.
Even if she didn’t want to live here anymore, she could still sell the place, then use the money to start over somewhere new.
Near him?
Yeah, right. He pushed the ridiculous idea aside. No doubt, once Olivia and Aaron were safe, and her baby was born, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
Except she had kissed him.
A rash decision in the heat of the moment. He’d been her sole protector and she probably hadn’t been thinking clearly. Best not to remember how much he’d enjoyed her kiss.
He focused his attention on driving back to Cambridge, making sure he didn’t pick up a tail.
When he arrived at the motel, he found Duncan pacing in agitation, like a caged wild animal. Duncan rushed over when he walked in, putting Ryker instantly on alert. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“Olivia’s having labor pains.”
“What?” Panic washed over him, and he hurried through the connecting door to her room. He found her seated upright on the bed, her back resting against the headboard. She looked calm as she smoothed her hands over her rounded stomach. “Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”
“I’m fine.” Her smile was strained. “These aren’t real labor pains, just Braxton-Hicks.”
“Braxton who?” He wanted to do something, anything to make sure she didn’t go into early labor. “We should at least have a doctor look at you.”
“Relax, Ryker. I had these with Aaron, too.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders, but not much. He’d never felt more helpless than he did at this moment. He didn’t care what she experienced before, being on the run these past few days had been stressful.
And stress wasn’t good for Olivia or the baby.
He wasn’t a total stranger to God and faith, after all; he knew Hawk and Jillian were churchgoers. Still, he hadn’t thought much of it for himself, until recently. He’d never known his father, and his mother had abandoned him when he was young, leaving him a ward of the state. He’d eventually found a home with a nice couple, but he had moved around frequently for several years before that happened.
It wasn’t until he’d started hanging around the Callahans and now Hawk, that he’d learned about church and faith. At first he hadn’t understood why it was such a big deal, but now with Olivia and Aaron depending on him, he liked the idea of God watching over them.
He was prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep Olivia safe, but he had never anticipated she might go into labor. He had no idea how to deliver a baby!
Another swell of panic rose within him, nearly choking him.
He found himself sending up a quick prayer on their behalf.
Please, Lord, keep Olivia from delivering her baby early. Keep her, Aaron and her baby safe!
* * *
Olivia really wasn’t worried about the Braxton-Hicks, but the stark fear on Ryker’s face gave her pause. For the first time since he’d rescued her from the men in the Blake-Moore Group, he looked as if he might throw up.
That was her role to play, not his. She closed her eyes and concentrated on slow, deep breathing. The contractions weren’t regular or strong, which were both good signs. And they were very similar to the Braxton-Hicks contractions she’d experienced with Aaron.
Still, she’d prayed hard over the past thirty minutes, asking for God’s grace and mercy in watching over her unborn child. Thankfully, Aaron had remained preoccupied with his television sho
w, oblivious to what she was experiencing.
“Olivia?” Ryker’s low voice sent shivers of awareness skating down her spine. She really, really needed to get a grip on her hormones.
“I’m fine, Ryker.” She opened her eyes and offered a faint smile. “I think the contractions have stopped.”
“Good.” Ryker hesitated for a moment, before taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside her, his expression serious. “I don’t want you to wait too long. You need to tell me when we need to go to the hospital, all right?”
“I will.” She wasn’t going to take any chances on having a premature baby. Aaron had been a week late, so she hadn’t been expecting a problem with this pregnancy. “You were gone a long time. How did it go with Seth? Did you find him? Talk to him?”
“Yeah. I convinced him to talk.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t want to add any more stress, Olivia, but I need to ask you about the bank accounts.”
She looked at him blankly. “What bank accounts?”
“Seth mentioned bank accounts. He seems to think they’re the reason Blake-Moore is coming after you.” His hazel gaze searched hers. “You really don’t know anything about them?”
“Tim and I have a joint bank account, or at least we did. I didn’t dare use or access it since the first few days after leaving the motel.”
“I don’t mean to intrude on your personal business, but how much money is in there?”
She didn’t understand where he was going with this line of questioning. “Maybe six or seven thousand dollars? Tim made good money, and we didn’t spend above our means.” In fact, she’d preferred shopping for bargains, especially once she’d learned she was pregnant.
“Do you think that money has been going toward your mortgage payments?”
“Yes. The bank takes the money automatically from our account each month.” She hadn’t really thought of it until now. “Although if that’s the case, I think the money will run out very shortly if it hasn’t already.” She blew out a heavy breath. “I hate the thought of the bank foreclosing on the house.”