Lara gnawed the inside of her cheek as she held a hastily prepared bottle in Maisy’s mouth with one hand and gripped the armrest on the car door with the other. Sparsely forested scenery flew past her back-seat window as they sped south at a westerly angle. The terrain had begun to climb steadily in elevation. Evidently, they were returning to the mountains.
“Where are you taking us?” she asked Ethan.
“I have a friend with a ranch nestled in the Wind River Range.”
“How are they going to feel about us bringing trouble in their direction?”
Ethan’s broad shoulders rippled in a shrug. “Rogan’s a DEA agent, so danger is no stranger in his line of work. Trina’s a veterinarian, real gutsy woman. If they were home, they’d stand shoulder to shoulder with us against anything the Draytons could throw our way. But Rogan and Trina left five days ago for a veterinary convention in Minnesota. After that, they’re taking a summer vacation canoeing the legendary Boundary Waters along the Canadian border. The couple is incommunicado by now, deep in the wilderness, but Rogan and I have a mi casa es su casa friendship. They’d be the first to say come on over and make yourselves at home, so we will.”
An involuntary sigh slipped between Lara’s lips. How had life suddenly blown up into such a mess that they were reduced to lying low like squatters in someone else’s home? But their options were severely limited, and if Mr. Competence deemed this place safe and their welcome assured, she’d go along with the plan. For Maisy’s sake more than her own.
The baby had finished the bottle, and her eyes were drifting closed. At least someone was relaxed and content. The child had no concept of the danger that crept around them, waiting to pounce, or that her mother was missing.
Where was Izzy? How was she faring? Was she even alive? Lara’s stomach turned and she shifted in her seat.
“Try to get comfortable, maybe even grab a nap.” Ethan’s tone was gentle—soothing, even. “It will be a long drive.”
“Let me know if I can spell you behind the wheel,” she answered.
He chuckled. “And potentially leave me helpless in the face of baby tears?”
“You’d figure it out.” She smirked at the back of his head.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t yet have a wife and kids I’m clueless.”
Lara scolded her rebellious heart for doing a little skip at the confirmation this man was single and, even better, the word “yet” indicated openness to the possibility of changing that situation. Neither his marital status nor his hopes for a future family had anything to do with her, and she needed to keep that assertion in the forefront of her mind.
“Plus, I’m an only child,” he went on, “so I never had any experience looking after siblings or even the possibility of infant nieces or nephews.”
“Ditto,” Lara said. “And my part-time high school job was photographer’s helper in a neighborhood shop, so I never babysat. My first exposure to infant care was this morning. Izzy left written instructions, I followed them and voilà, Maisy gets fed and changed.”
“Photographer’s helper. Is that how your interest in photography began?”
“Without that job, I might never have known I have a knack.”
“Funny how life goes sometimes. You said you’re a nature vlogger? How does a Chicago native get connected with the great outdoors?”
“That part happened my freshman year in college.” Lara smiled. Those memories were precious. “My boyfriend at the time was an avid wilderness hiker and started dragging me along to state and federal parks to traipse through the woods, up hill and down dale. I brought my camera along and found out I loved the outdoors and taking pictures of nature and wildlife. That interest outlasted the boyfriend. Pretty soon, I was casually vlogging my adventures, and it turned out, much to my pleasant surprise, people liked my photos and my little essays and poems about them.”
“A creative career was born.” Ethan chuckled.
Was she mistaken or did Ethan’s tone hold a note of admiration? Warmth spread through her chest. Why did she care what the deputy marshal thought about her or her occupation? But apparently, she did care, and the unwelcome fact raised red flags in her head.
Desire for approval had tangled her up in a disastrous relationship once before. Caution, girlfriend, caution. There was no room for personal feelings under direly dangerous circumstances. Too bad the guy was terminally cute and not such a tyrant once one caught on that his take-charge personality was well-intentioned rather than scheming and manipulative as Matt’s had been.
“Shall I turn on the radio?” Ethan asked. “What kind of music do you like?”
“Contemporary Christian.”
“Another thing we have in common.” He began flipping stations.
“You’re a believer?”
“A follower of Jesus? That’s a resounding yes. What I do exposes me to a lot of the darkness in people, and things don’t always turn out for the best. I can’t see how anyone—especially someone in my line of work—can get through life without faith that God is real and justice will ultimately be served.”
Lara’s heart leaped. Everything he said resonated with her, especially that thing about ultimate justice. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the words froze on her tongue as Ethan’s station surfing brought up a news broadcast.
“The hunt for escaped felon Ronald Drayton has come to Wyoming,” said the male commentator, “since the discovery this afternoon of his badly injured, estranged wife in a Cheyenne motel room. Undisclosed evidence indicates that people answering to Drayton are responsible for her injuries and that the convict himself may even be in state. Isabelle Drayton was taken to Cheyenne Regional Hospital, but Drayton remains at large.”
A deep moan escaped Lara’s chest. Poor Isabelle. What a wrenching situation for her to be hurt and hospitalized, as well as separated from her child.
“At least Izzy’s alive,” she said to Ethan. “I’ll be praying for her full recovery.”
Lara glanced down at the sleeping baby. The child’s feathery eyelashes cast small shadows on plump cheeks, and the little bow of a mouth made tiny sucking motions as she slept. Lara’s heart wobbled. Yes, she dearly wanted her friend to survive and regain her health, but that meant she’d have to give Maisy back to her mother. Of course, that was the best thing all around, wasn’t it?
Lara’s head said yes but her heart ached. She might see little or nothing of the child once Izzy took Maisy and went back to her life in Chicago. Lara’s livelihood depended on easy access to wilderness locations, so returning to city life was out of the question, even if she wanted to resume urban living—which she didn’t. From any angle Lara looked at it, the parting would be bitterly hard, so she might as well start preparing herself for it. But how did one carve a child out of one’s heart once she was embedded there? The answer was simple. One didn’t.
A weight settled in the bottom of Lara’s stomach. What was best for Maisy was her mother. Any pain Lara might feel in the transition didn’t matter. End of story.
The stony silence ringing from the man behind the wheel abruptly caught her attention.
“You’re glad they’ve found Izzy alive, aren’t you?” she asked.
A long breath huffed from Ethan. “Yes, I’m glad she’s been found.”
The words were gentle and affirming, but the tone was cautious, even secretive, as if he were holding something back. She’d heard that tone from him before when he hadn’t wanted to tell her about the contract the Draytons had put out on her life. Realization struck her, and her head spun.
“You think information is being kept back. That Izzy might not have made it, but the public isn’t allowed to know she’s gone. If Ronnie or his father hear the news that she’s in the hospital, they might return to finish the job and be caught. She’s bait. Just like Maisy and I are.”
Ethan turned his head slightly in her direction. “I don’t know that’s the case with Isabelle, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up about your friend and then have them dashed.”
Lara’s gut curdled. She’d needed this reminder that she was a pawn in a bigger game. If she kept that truth squarely in the forefront of her thoughts, she’d have proper ammunition to battle this foolish attraction to Deputy Marshal Ethan Ridgeway. He was nothing to her other than the man tasked with protecting her and Maisy, all while he tried to harpoon the sharks swimming after them.
Ethan rubbed the aching spot on his chest where the bullet had struck him just under his heart. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this is a harsh situation for you. Hopefully, it will be over soon. As much as I dearly wish I could offer more reassurance about Isabelle, I can’t make any promises. You’re a good friend to her, you know. You’re certainly going well beyond the extra mile to keep that baby safe. Rest assured, I will do the same thing for you both.”
What effect his encouraging speech had on Lara, he couldn’t tell, because she was sitting directly behind him and he couldn’t see her face. This was one of those times he could use a pair of eyes in the back of his head. She had his deep respect already for the way she’d been handling herself. A lot of people would be panicking, but she rolled with the punches and came back swinging—sometimes literally, as the bruise on the arm of a certain hitman on her porch could attest.
“I appreciate the multiple times you’ve risked your life on our behalf,” she said, her voice tinged with the weariness that the ebb of adrenaline brought about. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I was just doing my job. How is Maisy?”
“Sleeping.”
“Good. I’d like to keep driving until she wakes up. Then we can pop briefly into a convenience store in the nearest town. We’ll need to get gas, and we can take care of our needs and grab some food and beverages.”
“Sounds like a plan. I think I’ll take your advice to try and take a nap until then.”
The sudden blare of an unfamiliar ringtone raised the hairs on the nape of Ethan’s neck. The noise seemed to be coming from inside the center console. He pulled the vehicle over onto the side of the road, under the cover of a copse of pine trees, and lifted the console lid. A compact burner phone stared back at him. The screen was lit with an unfamiliar number.
“Are you going to answer it?” Lara’s voice quavered. “It could be Vincent or Ronald Drayton checking on the status of their abduction squad.”
“Or it could be a middleman seeking the same answers. But, yes, I’m going to answer it and hope to coax some info from whoever it is.”
Ethan lifted the receiver to his ear. “Hello.”
Stone silence answered.
“You’re not one of mine,” a harsh voice suddenly blurted. “Who is this?”
“Deputy Marshal Ridgeway. Not who you were expecting?” He laced his tone with acidic ice.
A guttural curse singed his ear in response from the caller. “Why aren’t you dead yet? Just wait, you—”
The furious rant was cut off and silence fell.
“What my son means—” a cool voice ended the pause in conversation “—is that this can all be over in a moment. Give us his daughter—my granddaughter—and we will go away. In fact, we will leave the country and be no problem again. Simple as that.”
Ethan barked a laugh. “You know it’s not that easy. Ronnie needs to go back to prison and you need to join him. Tell us where you are, and we’ll pick you up. Then it will be over.”
The older man snorted. “Allow me to speak to Maisy’s guardian.” Vincent’s tone had turned impatient.
“Not going to happen.”
“Then expect us when you least expect us. We are going to take custody of our own.”
The call went dead.
“They’re still coming after us,” Lara said, voice flat.
“You know it, but now I have a cell number to pass on to my colleagues. It’s a long shot, because I’d be surprised if Vincent didn’t discard his phone as soon as the call ended, but we can’t assume so. Pinging or running GPS on the number might help us get a fix on these crooks’ location. Or at least where they were as of a minute ago. I’ll call Terry on this burner phone and then toss it so no one can track us through it. We left your cell at the Jackson police station. I still have mine, but it’s turned off and the battery has been removed.”
“Then we can’t be found via cellular service?”
“Correct.”
“Okay, but please ask Terry if my mother is safe.”
“Consider it done.” Ethan punched Terry’s number into the burner phone, and it rang several times. “Come on, buddy, pick up.”
At last, a familiar voice muttered a cautious hello.
“Terry, where are you? Are you okay?”
“Ethan!” The man’s tone sharpened. “I didn’t recognize the number.”
“Burner phone in the car. Belonged to our perps.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. The ambulance just arrived, as well as a state highway patrol car. We’re good. You?”
“Fine, but I just got done talking to both Draytons on this phone. I’ll send you the number they called from.”
“I’ll have our people see if they can get a location.”
“Good. Lara is understandably on pins and needles about the status of her mother. Can you check on that? I’ll hang on to this phone until you get back to me.”
“On it.”
The call ended and silent minutes passed. But finally, the burner ringtone sounded, startling a gasp from Lara.
He pressed the speakerphone button on the burner. “What did you find out?” he asked his partner.
“Not much.” Terry sighed. “Mrs. Werth wasn’t present when local officers arrived at her condo to take her into custody, but there was no sign of intrusion or any kind of altercation. We’re hoping she’s simply out on errands or gone for some other reason. The officers are sitting in their vehicle across the street, waiting and watching for her return. Ask Lara if she knows where her mother might be.”
A rustle sounded from the back seat, indicating Lara leaning forward. “Check at May’s Beauty Salon or with her friend Salina Gray. She was our neighbor when I was a child. Mom talks to her almost every day. I’m sure you’ve tried calling my mother’s phone. Isn’t she answering?”
“Negative.”
“That’s the way my mother is.” The exclamation communicated equal parts disgust and desperation. “I can’t believe how she doesn’t pick up when it doesn’t suit her.”
Ethan grinned into the rearview mirror. “I take it your mom is not one of those folks enslaved to her cell.”
“I used to think that was a good thing.” Lara huffed. “But right now, it’s maddening.”
“Agreed.” He returned his attention to the phone. “Terry, if you’re up to it, keep tabs on the hunt for Mrs. Werth. We’ll be in contact later when we can, but I’m going to get rid of this phone since the number is known to the Draytons, and they could use it to locate us.”
“Understood. Next time you call me, route through the main office in Virginia. They’ll connect you to the new number we’re all being issued. We’re not sure how many of our phones are compromised since that security breach.”
“Will do.” Ethan ended the call, powered down his side window and flung the phone into the trees.
“We’d better get back on the road,” he told his passenger.
“Sure.” Her tone was heavy. “But I doubt if I’ll be able to sleep now.”
He didn’t blame her for feeling discouraged and probably worried about her mother.
“We’ll find her,” Ethan said.
He put the car in gear and backed out onto the deserted county road. If only he could be certain his words were true.
They drove for a full hour and then Maisy began to fuss, so Ethan started looking for a place to stop for gas and essentials. A few minutes later, they cruised into a tiny one-convenience-store town nestled in the surrounding pine forest. Ethan pulled the vehicle up to one of only two pumps.
“I’m going to take Maisy to the bathroom and change her,” Lara announced.
“Do that,” Ethan said as he stepped outside into warm air laden with the odor of gasoline and juniper from nearby trees. “I’ll fill the tank and ‘rustle up’ some grub, as Terry might say.”
Lara chuckled as she exited the car. Her laugh was a light, pleasant sound he’d not heard from her before, and his spirits lifted. They were completely off-grid, so it might not be too much to hope for a nice respite from being chased and shot at. His lovely charge disappeared into the small but well-kept store with a wiggling baby in one arm and diaper bag dangling from the other. For someone with no experience in childcare, the woman was a natural. His heart warmed.
What would it be like to be a dad with a brave, attractive and intelligent wife like Lara? Would he ever get the opportunity to find out? Correction. More like, would he ever allow himself the opportunity to find out? This was certainly not the time, place or situation to be having these thoughts. But then when was? Thus far, his job had been his world. The US Marshals Service came with demanding responsibilities he’d embraced wholeheartedly and inherent risk he’d willingly accepted. Maybe when this was over, he’d take a little time to reassess where his life was headed.
God, are You trying to tell me something?
He hadn’t felt such restlessness about his single-minded career focus since—well, ever. Not even when that guard detail went sideways years ago. He cringed internally as he remembered the incident. Totally different situation. There’d been no romance involved, just an unwise investment of trust where it hadn’t been deserved. His faith in his own judgment of character had sustained a major hit that had required a long time to rebuild.
Firming his jaw, Ethan put the gas nozzle back where it belonged and closed the cap on the car. Gaze roaming the surroundings, he crossed the distance between the vehicle and the front door of the convenience store. He’d pay cash for this transaction, not only because the ancient pump in this tiny burg wasn’t equipped to accept credit cards, but because he couldn’t afford to leave an electronic record of their stop here.
A bell over the door jingled as he walked through, but that wasn’t the sound that drove his heart into his throat. A screech of tires outside yanked him into a crouching whirl. A black SUV came to a rocking halt on the far side of the vehicle he’d just filled with gas. Three men and a woman, all dressed in dark clothing, lunged out of the SUV, weapons drawn.
How had they been found?
Again.