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Zora slid out of Milo’s grasp like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
John took a step toward her but staggered when a boulder hit his chest. Pain bloomed like hot lava. Even as the thought that he’d been shot flashed through his brain, he was bringing his gun arm up. The bullet meant to catch Sommers’ cop between the eyes went off-center and burrowed through the man’s neck instead. The gun dropped from the cop’s grip as his hands went to his neck where blood gushed through his fingers.
Kevlar could only help so much.
John second shot was true, catching the cop between the eyes. John knees buckled as he swung his gun toward Milo. But the Serb had vanished.
John’s chest was on fire. One knee dropped onto a mattress. The girl who occupied it scrambled out of his way, her eyes dilated wide with fear. With clumsy fingers, he clawed at the Kevlar, all while crawling toward Zora’s prone body.
Footsteps grew loud. Men dressed in tactical gear swarmed into the room. Andi hadn’t let him down.
The women started to scream again.
“Captain Iron Hawk?” one of the men asked as he removed his helmet.
John nodded. He’d reached Zora. His hand covered her left breast, felt the rise and fall of her breath. He bowed his head with relief.
“Rob Acton,” the leader said. “Is she okay?” He inclined his head toward Zora.
“I think so.” Each breath felt like hot daggers stabbed into his chest. “Help me turn her over.”
Acton dropped onto one knee and turned Zora over. John’s gaze roamed greedily over her. Other than a nick of drying blood at her neck, there appeared to be no other injuries.
“Probably fainted. Paramedics are on the way.”
“There’s a man, big, bald, armed with a knife running around out there,” John said. “And possibly another one, a police detective named Sommers. Both should be considered dangerous.”
Acton turned to four other men clustered in the door. “Secure the premises. Eyes open.” He turned back to John. “Let’s get you out of that vest.”
“In a minute. I need to find my daughter.” With Acton’s help, John staggered to his feet. The room was small. Not more than fourteen by fourteen. It took John no time to figure out Laurie was not among these drugged women. Disappointment swallowed him whole.
“Sit,” Acton commanded.
John sank down on the mattress next to Zora’s unconscious form. He gritted his teeth against the pain as Acton helped lift the vest off John’s body. A dark bruise had blossomed across his chest. Based on the pain he felt with each breath, he’d bet a couple of ribs had been bruised. He’d worry about that later. He needed to find his daughter.
“This is jacked up.”
John’s attention came back to the swat leader. The guy’s words were whispered more to himself than a statement to John as he stared at the pitiful women strewn around the room.
“Yeah. There’re some sick fucks out there.”
John wondered why Milo hadn’t finished him off. He could have slit John’s throat any time after Sommers’ officer shot him.
“John?”
The voice was sweetness to John’s ears. “Hey, babe.” He stroked Zora’s cheek while she blinked back to awareness.
“EMT’s are coming,” Acton said.
∞
Something had brought Laurie out of sleep. She turned her head and looked at the lump in the next bed. “Did you hear that?”
Destiny snored.
How could the girl sleep?
Earlier they’d torn up their sheets to make booties and wrapped themselves in the one thin blanket they both had and crept out of their rooms. They’d gotten as far as the door at the end of the hall and their plan to escape had evaporated. The door was locked.
They’d come back to their room and cried themselves to sleep. Until now.
Laurie willed her body to relax. Maybe she’d been dreaming. But she couldn’t go back to sleep. Beyond the barred window headlights crisscrossed each other. Something was definitely going on.
A minute later the overhead light snapped on.
“Get up. Now.” Mrs. Krueger stood in the door like a Nazi general. She tossed clothes at them. “Put these on. Quickly.”
Destiny sat on the edge of the bed looking as confused as Laurie felt. Laurie’s pulse rose until it was a lump in her throat beating wildly. “It’s still dark outside. Where are we going?”
“You’re being moved. Now hurry the hell up. Milo will be here shortly.”
She didn’t want to go anywhere with Milo. The man was a psycho. He’d slashed Danny’s throat.
Mrs. Krueger loomed over Laurie. “Didn’t I say get dressed?”
The woman’s face was enough to get her moving. She dressed quickly in the jeans, sweater and socks—glad to have something warm to wear. Mrs. Krueger waited in the opened door. As soon as they were dressed she hustled them down the corridor and out of a side entrance.
Wind whipped at Laurie’s hair, blowing strands of it in her face. She glanced around as Destiny stumbled to her side. How far was it to the road? Could she and Destiny make it before they were caught?
A black truck pulled up, splashing their feet with melted snow. Seeing Milo’s bulk behind the wheel made all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. She remembered Danny’s gaze following this truck as it sped through the market. She’d thought it was admiration for the size and grandness of the vehicle, now she knew he’d recognized Milo behind the wheel. The psycho must have been looking for Danny even then—looking to kill him.
It was now or never. Laurie grabbed Destiny’s hand.
“I wouldn’t do it.” Mrs. Krueger stood in the door behind them, a big gun in her hand. A gun pointed straight at them.
Milo had left the driver’s seat and materialized at her side. “What about the other girls?” Laurie asked, trying to buy time.
“Forget the other girls,” Milo said. He gripped both of her wrists behind her back and secured them with ties like her father carried.
Destiny watched the whole exchange with eyes as wide as a startled deer. Her gaze flittered between Milo and Mrs. Krueger’s hand holding the 9mm.
When Milo finished tying Destiny up, he tossed both of them in the truck’s back seat and slammed the door.
He said something to Mrs. Krueger and then hopped into his vehicle. Were the other girls already gone? Or were she and Destiny being singled out? If so, why?
The truck took off in a burst of speed, throwing her and Destiny against the leather seats.
Destiny turned her body so she could clutch Laurie’s arm.
Tears slid down Laurie’s face. Time’s up. Her dad wasn’t going to save her. She and Destiny would have to save themselves.
∞
Zora sat on the edge of an exam table in the emergency room listening to John argue with his doctor in the next cubicle. Something about his ribs.
“Follow my finger.”
Her attention snapped back to her own doctor. She did as instructed.
“Any dizziness?”
Zora shook her head.
“This cut—” He touched the knife wound at the base of her throat.
She flinched.
“—is superficial.”
“I don’t advise that, Mr. Iron Hawk.” This from a male voice in the cubicle with John. More raised voices.
“—intravenous fluids—” Her doctor was saying.
The curtain in the next cubicle raked back so violently the rungs clattered against each other.
Zora slid off the examination table.
“Ms. Hughes, where are you going? You need fluids.”
She ignored him and rushed out into the corridor.
Already John was half way down the corridor, his shirt flapping in the breeze he created.
“Mr. Iron Hawk.” A frustrated physician called after John.
“John,” Zora called. When he didn’t answer, she raced after him, her weak legs threatening to buckle beneath her. She only caught up with him because he stopped. When she touched his arm, he turned on her like an attacking lion. She stepped back, scorched by his ferocity.
He threw up his hands in apology. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know it was you.” His gaze roamed over her features, taking in every detail. “You, okay?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his tired face. “I... I...”
All she could focus on were the bandages wrapped around his chest—bandages that appeared even whiter against his bronze skin. He buttoned his shirt quickly, cutting off all evidence that he’d been shot.
She touched his arm. “You need to rest. You’re running on fumes.”
“I’ll rest when I find my daughter.”
“Where are you going to look?”
“I haven’t a clue.” His misbuttoned shirt hung askew on his frame.
“What did the doctor say?” She pointed at his chest.
“Bruised ribs. Nothing more.”
The way he avoided her eyes told her there was more to the diagnosis. She felt so frustrated. She had no skills to help him locate Laurie. All she could do was be there for him.
“What if I drive? You can rest in the passenger seat and tell me where to go.”
“No way. It’s too dangerous.”
He stared at her, his brows pulled in. The lines on his forehead dissolved, and with a hand at her back, he guided her into the stairwell off the emergency room. “Tell me what you remember.” The intensity of his gaze made her take a step back. The stair railing bit into her back.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s—”
She understood, even if he didn’t. John had always been in control of every situation. He didn’t know what to do now that he wasn’t.
He took her arm and gently led her to the steps. “Sit.” He supported her as she lowered her body onto the cold concrete surface. He started to massage her legs and feet. The motion of his large hands sent some warmth into her torso.
“When I arrived at Mac’s trailer, I was mad.” The memory brought up her anger again, and her heart rate increased. She took a deep breath. “So mad at Laurie I didn’t think before I acted. If I had my wits about me, I would have known something was off.” She wrapped her arms around her body.
“I pounded on the door. At first when no one answered I thought maybe she—Laurie—and Danny had left in another vehicle. I started toward my car...” She gripped her fingers tightly together. “This big, football-type guy, came out of the trailer. And he just stared at me. He didn’t answer any of my questions. I was spooked. I turned to run, and that’s all I remember until that room where you found me.”
“Think carefully.” John’s intensity had returned. “Did Milo stop anywhere?”
“Milo?”
“The one who I believe killed Danny. The guy who took you and Laurie from the reservation.”
She shook her head. “I think he gave us something—drugs—because I don’t remember...” Trees swaying in a breeze. A white portico.
“What?” He peered intently into her face.
“I’m not sure... And it’s not much, but I think he drove us to a big white house with a porte cochere.”
She could tell by the frown on his face he couldn’t visualize what she meant. “A covered driveway, usually at the side of a house. It’s not a common structure. It was used to shelter horse-drawn carriages when visitors came to call. More upscale homes had them.”
“Mansions?”
She shrugged. “Most were mansions.”
He thought for a moment then grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
“Wait.” She pulled at his arm, holding him in the stairwell with her.
“What?” He searched her face.
“I—there’s something else.”
“What?” he asked again. She could hear the impatience in his voice.
Something else hung on the edge of her thoughts. Something important. She thought back over the time at the house—the fear, the hunger, the despair.
“Is it Laurie?” John asked.
“Yes.” She remembered Milo standing at the end of her mattress, mocking her. “Do you think you can save her?” he asked.
“I can save her,” Zora said, her voice a mere whisper that echoed off the cold walls of the stairwell.
“What?” John asked. He gripped her arms. “How?”
She glanced at his face—not seeing his features but those of the man John had called Milo. “He said she’d be flying out in the morning. At seven.”
His fingers tightened on hers as he opened the door and pulled her back into the emergency room.
Several nurses and a doctor stood at the nursing station writing in patient charts.
Something— Her feet faltered. “John?” she whispered. He didn’t hear her, too intent on getting out of the hospital. For the second time in a few short minutes, she captured his arm.
“Zora, we got to get going. If you want to st—”
She shook her head violently. Her eyes must have communicated something to him because he studied her then followed the direction of her gaze.
“I know him.”
John’s gaze shifted between her and the old doctor. “How?”
“He was at the house,” she muttered. “I think he was the doctor who treated the girls. Gave them drugs.”
∞
“Doctor Cargill,” the elderly man extended a hand toward John. “How can I help you?”
Only Zora could detect John’s slight hesitation before he took the physician’s hand.
“John Iron Hawk.”
Dr. Cargill glanced in Zora’s direction. She held his gaze, daring him not to recognize her. He gave her a respectful nod. There was no recognition in his eyes. Either the old guy was a great actor or he really didn’t know who she was. She had a moment’s doubt. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t the doctor.
“I’m new in the area,” John said. “My wife and I are looking for a large home big enough for our four children.”
Zora’s pulse spiked. She studied him, wondering where that line came from. The muscles in his jaw rippled like snakes moving underwater. The tension in his body contradicted the happy image the words conveyed.
The old man smiled and nodded.
“One of the nurses told me you knew the area well. We’re looking for something classic. Big with a porte cochere attached. Do you know of such a house?”
The doctor’s body tensed. He looked between Zora and John. The amiable light in his eyes diminished. “I’d suggest you get a real estate agent. They could be of more help than I could be.” His voice was cold, the Eastern prep school accent evident in his speech.
“No, doctor. I think you are just the person to tell me all about this special house.” John’s amicable façade had disappeared.
When the doctor turned to walk away, John caught his arm in a vise. “You’re not going anywhere. I want to know where this house is. You see, my daughter is there, and I want her back.”
“Let go this instant before I call security.”
John smiled. “You do that. Call security. While we wait, I’ll tell everyone within earshot about your extracurricular medical duties—doping young girls so they can be sold to the highest bidder.”
Dr. Cargill drew himself up. “You don’t know who you’re talking to. Throwing false accusations around can get you sued. My family—”
John moved into the doctor’s space. “It’s my family that is being torn apart. But it will soon be yours when it becomes national news.” John moved in closer until he and the physician were almost nose to nose. “Where is this house?”
They were attracting attention. Some of the staff were sending curious glances in their direction.
“I don’t kn—”
“Look, old man. This woman”—he touched Zora’s arm—“is an eyewitness to what you’ve been doing. I just raided a house in Durham and found five drugged women.”
The doctor’s face bleached as white as a whalebone corset. His gaze shifted to Zora. He seemed to finally get a good look at her. She could imagine what he saw—the black circles under her exhausted eyes, the dullness of her skin. All the things she’d shied away from seeing in the ER’s bathroom.
She stared back at him with contempt.
“No one will believe you. My family—”
“You don’t get it, do you?” John asked. “I don’t have to prove it. Once this sex trafficking ring is exposed, it will be national—no—international news. Your face and your family will be getting all the exposure the case will. The value of the family business will tank faster than Kmart stock. Your precious family will be ruined.”
“Dr. Cargill? Is everything all right.” A tall, commanding woman dressed in a powder blue suit stood a few feet away. Her gaze moved over the group before homing in on the doctor.
He was obviously not okay. Sweat beaded his upper lip. He couldn’t sustain eye contact with the woman. “I’m fine, Leona. Thank you for asking.”
From the way she studied John and Zora, she obviously didn’t believe him. “Just let me know if I can be of service,” she said before walking a short distance away to the nurse’s station.
“So what’s it going to be, Cargill? National news or the location of this house?”
Dr. Cargill tugged at the knot of his tie. “You have to understand—”
“The only thing I understand, old man, is that my daughter has been kidnapped. She’s sixteen years old. Sixteen!” John’s voice was loud and carried beyond their little area.
Leona had obviously not taken the doctor at his word. Two security officers were walking in their direction.
When the physician didn’t respond, John reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his cell. Moments after touching the screen a voice rang out loud enough for everyone within a few feet to hear. “Special Agent Iles.”
Cargill grabbed the phone out of John’s hands. “Let’s go someplace quieter.” The doctor didn’t wait on John to comply but marched down the corridor until he found an empty cubicle.
“I want my name kept out of this,” Cargill said once they were all behind the curtain.
“I can’t promise that,” John countered back, taking back his phone from the old man’s fingers.
Zora wanted to scream at John to just agree. Tell the old guy whatever he needed to hear to get them the address of the house.
John’s cell rang. He glanced down at the display and back at the doctor. “This is the FBI calling back. What’s it going to be?”
The doctor gave John the address.
“Iles?” John stepped out of the cubicle, leaving Zora alone with the doctor.
“Why?” There was so much more she wanted to ask, but the words jammed in her throat. She thought about those poor girls she’d spent so many hours with—their fear, their loneliness, and their despair.
The doctor’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. He sank wearily down on a stool.
Zora couldn’t feel pity for him. How many other girls had he drugged? “May you rot in Hell.” She marched out of the cubicle with as much dignity as her trembling legs would allow her.
John had finished his call. “Let’s go. I need to find Laurie.”
A crash and a thud stopped them in their tracks.
Leona rushed into the cubicle where they’d left the doctor. “Help,” she shouted. “Code Blue. Dr. Cargill is unresponsive. Call a Code Blue.”
∞
Snow was still falling as Milo maneuvered the truck through the ice-coated streets. His knuckles gripped the steering wheel like a vice—not because of the treacherous weather—but in rage. He hated idiots. He hated working with idiots. Worse, he hated botched jobs. And this was a clusterfuck from start to finish. He’d warned Sommers that Iron Hawk was not to be played with. He’d seen it in the policeman’s eyes. The fucker’s tenacity.
Why had that stupid fuck shot Iron Hawk in the chest? It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out the Indian would wear Kevlar. Why hadn’t Sommers’ man shot Iron Hawk in the back of the head as they climbed the stairs? Milo sure would have.
A sound drew his attention. He glanced in the rearview mirror. The two girls huddled together like scared rabbits. The chubby one wheezed and hiccupped like an asthmatic, taking in big gulps of air as she cried.
“Shut the fuck up.”
This only made her cry harder. The Iron Hawk chick sent him ballsy glares.
It had been his decision to move the females. Iron Hawk had found out about the house on Durham Street. It wouldn’t be long before he learned about Vera’s place. If this delivery was to go off as planned, someone needed to make some executive decisions. He figured that somebody ought to be him.
The turn off was coming up on the right. He peered through the windshield, straining to see the gravel road through the blinding snow. The weather was turning rough. There hadn’t been any reports of a blizzard, but it was sure shaping into one.
This was the big payoff. Ten million. More money than he’d ever had. He wasn’t taking any chances that something would go wrong.
Why was one Indian girl worth so much? But Stojanovic said that was what the customer wanted. And what the customer wants, the customer gets.
Danny hadn’t had the balls to deliver. When he’d served up the chubby one, Milo had laughed in his face. But his laughter had stopped when he saw what Danny had been holding back. Now that one—Iron Hawk’s daughter—had a body and face worth the money the customer was willing to pay. Once Danny had been taken care of, the way opened for Milo to reap the reward. And there might be more money when the customer realized he was getting two females.
“Where are we going?” Iron Hawk’s daughter asked from the backseat.
“Somewhere rich,” Milo replied.
∞
Zora slid into the familiar truck. John got behind the wheel as cautiously as a new driver. There was just enough light from the hospital parking lights to show the pallor underneath his bronze skin.
“He was having a heart attack,” she said.
“I know what a Code Blue is,” John said, backing the truck out of its space. She didn’t take offense at his tone. He was stretched thin, sleep-deprived, and holding his emotions tightly in control. He’d insisted on driving to the hospital against the Special Response Leader Acton’s advice. Another control issue with him. He needed to be on the road hunting for Laurie, he’d said, not wasting time going back to find his car.
She shook her head against his stubbornness. She’d offered to drive, and in his usual macho tone he said he had this under control. With every breath, he winced. Stubborn male.
She’d had enough of this. “Pull over,” she commanded. Her tone got his attention. “You’re going to kill us when you pass out behind the wheel. Consider me your navigator. The ship and the mission is still yours.” When she didn’t get so much as a smile, she knew he was in a bad way. Usually references to Star Trek got a rise of him or at least a smile.
She softened her tone. “I want to find Laurie as much as you do. Believe it or not, I care about her.”
This earned her a surprised look. “I never doubted you cared about her.” He winced again when the car’s back wheel skidded, whipping their bodies around.
“Pull over,” she said again, this time softly, like a mother coaxing a reluctant child to eat his vegetables. “For once let me help you.”
His head snapped in her direction—mouth open probably to contradict her words. He searched her eyes for as long as he could without driving them into the back of another car. He pulled the truck over to the curb. The wind whipped through her thin clothing as they swapped places.
“Do you have your cell phone?” she asked.
“It’s in my jacket.” He’d given her his coat when they’d left the hospital. She pulled up the jacket sleeves so she could dig into the pockets. Pulling out his cell, she handed it to him. “Program the address Dr. Cargill gave us into the GPS.”
He did as instructed. “Give it a minute ’til the satellite picks up our location.” A few moments later, he said, “Take the next right.”
She pulled cautiously away from the curb and followed his directions. The mood in the car was thick with unsaid words and exposed emotions. They drove for another ten minutes. The snow now was more a slushy mixture. The splat of snow hitting the windshield was the only sound in the car.
“What did you mean by what you said a few minutes ago?”
She didn’t pretend not to understand what he asked. “You’ve kept me at arm’s length since I moved to the reservation.”
“Is that why you were leaving without telling me?”
She shot him a quick glance before refocusing her attention on the road. “You don’t need me, John. If I left, you wouldn’t even know I was gone. You’d find someone else to fuck quickly enough.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared out the window. She felt the prick of tears behind her eyelids at his callous disregard for her pain.
“Turn left at the next crossroad.”
The area had changed from business to rustic. The distance between houses or businesses was almost a quarter mile.
He cleared his throat. She knew that sound. He made it when he didn’t know what to say or was navigating his way through a quagmire. “I care about you, Zora.”
She closed her eyes briefly against the sharp pain beneath her breastbone. She opened her mouth to let him off the hook—to keep him from saying the words she’d dreaded hearing for months. That he cared about her but didn’t love her enough to let her into his world.
But she didn’t say the words. She was tired of letting him off the hook. They needed to put whatever was or wasn’t between them out in the open. This wasn’t exactly the best time, but when would be the best time? She never saw him. Even if she’d left the reservation without telling him, it might have been twelve to sixteen hours before he knew she was gone.
“You are my world,” he said quietly.
She swallowed against the rush of sadness, pain, and exhalation the words brought. She couldn’t stop the tears that welled and slid down her face. “Why...Why didn’t you ever tell me this before now?”
She swiped at the moisture on her face with the back of her hand.
“Fear.” He cleared his throat. “I expected you to leave within weeks of coming to the reservation. If I’d said the words, it might have kept you from leaving. You might have stayed because you didn’t want to hurt me. I didn’t want that.”
For the first time she didn’t know what to say. Yes, she’d jumped into moving to South Dakota. She hadn’t thought of what she’d do once she’d gotten here, hadn’t thought about how she’d fit into life on the reservation, life in John’s house and with John. Maybe part of the problem had been with her. She hadn’t had the courage to force him to open up. She’d expected him to know what she wanted. How could he, when she didn’t know what she’d wanted from their relationship?
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“We find Laurie. Then the three of us go home and be a family.”
She let the words hang between them as she drove further into an isolated area. The words sounded good, but the reality would be they’d fall back into their routine—him working, her just existing, and Laurie ignoring them both.
∞
Trees lurked like sentinels, standing guard over a massive house. Lights glared from every window, making the place look like an overdecorated Christmas tree.
John’s stomach twisted, and his fingers clenched and unclenched against his pant leg. He just wanted to get inside, deal with whoever he had to, get his daughter, and go home. A simple wish. But the execution would be a bitch. “Let’s do this.”
Zora pressed down on the accelerator, sending the car up the long path with snow-covered thicket on both sides and a tunnel of overhanging icy trees.
“Stop here,” John ordered. Here at the end of the drive, the trees provided some cover, so the truck blended into the darkness.
The trees had been cleared from around the house, leaving it sitting in the open, a perfect protection against a sneak attack.
Zora peered at the house. “Such a beautiful place to have such ugly things going on under its roof.”
John grunted. He was too wound up to appreciate the beauty of anything.
“What’s the plan?” she whispered.
“There isn’t one.” He pulled Goon One’s Sig from the small of his back. “Wait here.” The cold hit him in the face like a fist when he stepped out of the car. The snow had stopped. Two to three inches crunched under his boots as he made his way toward what Zora called the porte cochere.
With the house blazing with lights, he thought there must be a party going on, but there were no cars. What was going on inside? Was his daughter okay? Had they harmed her? If they had, a lot of somebodies were going to pay.
He made it to the side of the mansion without being shot. Surprised when the doorknob turned easily under his hand, he slipped into the house. Hooks had been hammered into the walls on both sides of the door, and a tall wire basket with one umbrella sat to the right. Mud room.
He listened for any sound. Nothing. Keeping to the edges of the stairs, he took one step at a time. The mud room opened into the kitchen. A tea service sat on a polished silver tray on top of a butcher-block table. He moved to the stove and touched the kettle which set on a burner. Warm to the touch. The door leading out of the kitchen emptied onto a corridor that took him to the front of the house and an impressive winding staircase. Taking the stairs would leave him exposed to anyone on the second level and anyone coming in the front door, but since he couldn’t fly he climbed the stairs instead. Gun up and ready, he checked every one of the many bedrooms. All had been occupied but were now empty.
The entire house was empty. No sign of his daughter. He let down his guard and slumped against the wall of the last bedroom. Whoever had been in this room had left in a hurry. Bed linen littered the floor. He kicked at the sheets in frustration. Something crunched under his boot. Tossing the sheet onto the mattress, he stared at the twinkling object on the wood floor.
A floor board creaked on the lower level. The muscles in his legs tightened as he left the room and moved just far enough down the stairs so he could see. A dark head appeared.
Before blasting out in anger, he gritted his teeth. “I thought you were going to wait in the car?”
She jerked at the sound of his voice. “You thought I was going to wait in the car.”
“Zora,” he dragged out her name in exasperation.
Her shoulders slumped. “I—I was scared.” The words rang with pain and loneliness.
He knew what that admission cost her. Zora of a year ago would never have shown her vulnerability. That Zora had everything under control.
His anger dissipated. She didn’t understand the danger she could have been in.
He sat on the last step and pulled her down beside him. He ran a finger down the side of her face, tracing the streaks of dried tears. She searched his features as though she were looking for something she’d lost.
He pulled her into his arms. Pain shot through his middle like a jolt from a cattle prod. She tried to pull away, but he held her in place. He’d missed the feel and warmth of her body. He needed that now as the hopelessness of his daughter’s situation settled on him.
His heart threatened to bang out of his chest. His child was being flown somewhere, and if he didn’t get it together he might never see her again. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight.
“Did Milo happen to say anything else?”
She shook her head. “That was it.”
“Flying out at seven in the morning.” He stared back up the stairs, thinking about the disarray in that one bedroom. Why would someone remove the girls from a secure hiding place when they weren’t flying out until seven hours later?
“Maybe this isn’t the right place,” Zora said.
“It is.” He opened his hand so she could see the object sitting in his palm.
Her breath hitched. She stretched out a finger and lightly touched the earring now mangled by his boots. “I’ve never seen her wear them. I thought she didn’t like them.”
Zora had given his daughter a pair of amethyst earrings last Christmas—their first Christmas together.
“Well, I guess you were wrong.”
His fist closed over the piece of jewelry as though protecting it would protect his daughter. He blocked his mind to the fear she must be feeling. He wouldn’t think about that, because if his fear took over he would never find her.
The clock was ticking and he needed help. He cursed Sommers. He hated to admit it, but he needed the FBI. Which agent could he trust with his daughter’s life?
