She would not cry. Not today.
Deputy US marshal Dana Santiago stepped out of a rough wood barn in the middle of nowhere, North Carolina, and stared up at the sky. The stars shone clear and bright after a brief mid-December snow had frosted the ground in fairy dust. Through the wide-open barn doors, the bass of a ’70s disco song thumped while laughter overlaid the beat. Weddings didn’t usually get to her, but the story behind her teammate Sam Maldonado’s trip to the altar with his new bride, Amy, might actually deserve a tear or two. So much pain. So much fear. So much healing.
With the wedding so close to Christmas, when every radio station pumped out nostalgia and every street corner in the tiny town of Mountain Springs was lit with twinkle lights and candy canes...well, even her normally untouchable heart didn’t stand a chance.
Maybe she’d even put up a Christmas tree this year.
Dana smiled at the full moon that shone on on Wyatt and Jenna Stephens’s property, where Amy Brady and her teammate Sam Maldonado had said their vows earlier. She hadn’t had a Christmas tree since she moved out on her own. There was barely time to ship her mom a present, let alone get wrapped up in all of the holiday trappings. Witness Protection didn’t take a break on the holidays.
She slipped around the corner of the barn, out of sight of everyone celebrating inside. Rumor had it Amy would be throwing the bouquet soon, and Dana definitely did not want to find herself caught in the single-lady roundup.
The minute Sam proposed to Amy, he’d started assuming the whole world wanted to fall in love, as well. He’d forgotten who he was dealing with. If she wanted to keep advancing in the US Marshals Service, then she had a job to do. Her job sure didn’t leave room for romance. Her plane would fly out of Asheville tomorrow morning and she’d be Atlanta-bound, back to work in their team’s satellite office by afternoon. Half a week away from her computers was too long. It was time to leave all of the girl talk and dress decisions behind.
In the light that spilled from the barn, parked cars sat in long rows, fading into the darkness. She glanced at her rented sedan toward the middle of the outside row, and her breath caught.
Something moved near the vehicle. A shadowed figure hesitated at the passenger door, then circled to the front and disappeared. He’d probably knelt down to look under the car, likely searching for a hidden key.
Or maybe someone had stepped out to take a phone call and dropped their wallet. This was the downside of her job in Witness Protection—it made her suspicious of every crunching leaf and every partygoer who simply needed a moment of quiet.
Still... Dana glanced at the open barn doors, then back toward the parking area. If someone was out on Wyatt’s remote property looking for a quick score, she should alert someone. The wedding reception was in full swing, though, and she really didn’t want to drag down the festivities.
Besides, she was a well-trained and competent deputy marshal. If this was a common thief, she could handle the situation. Though her gun remained safely locked away in her room at the bed-and-breakfast, she knew how to inflict serious damage with her hands and feet. She might not be able to recover anything the perp had already stolen, but she could certainly put some fear into him and send him packing.
Slipping into the faint darkness along the perimeter of the makeshift parking lot, Dana eased toward her car as shadows shifted in front of her. If the target left the area around her vehicle, she wanted to know as soon as possible.
She rounded the slight curve in the line and took cover near the front bumper of a blue pickup. Two cars away, only the man’s legs and feet were visible beneath her rental vehicle.
She hesitated. He was under her car. This wasn’t a petty thief looking for a quick score. He was tampering.
With her vehicle.
Either this guy was seriously twisted and had randomly targeted one of the few cars in the lot with out-of-state tags, or he knew who she was. If that was the case, then the situation was a lot more dangerous than—
A strong arm snaked around her waist and jerked her backward as it lifted her from the ground against a broad chest. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth, grinding leather against her teeth.
She struggled, swung her elbow backward and made contact, but a voice hissed, “You fight, I send my partner into the wedding with guns blazing.”
Dana stilled. Sam and Amy had been through enough. The very thought of a massacre at their wedding was intolerable.
She’d bide her time. Sooner or later, her captor would slip up and Dana would find a way to escape him without putting everyone else in danger.
The hand over her mouth jerked her head back and to the side, against a bony shoulder. Pain elicited a feeble cry from her throat as lightning bolts jolted through her neck and down her unnaturally arched spine.
A second man, likely the one who’d been under her car, stepped closer. He tilted his head to study her, his face veiled by shadows, though his dark eyes glittered. He ran one finger down her cheek to her chin then leaned closer. The heat of his breath brushed her skin as his lips swept past her cheek. “Buenas noches, Dana Santiago.”
Her heart beat faster, and she fought to swallow a flash of panic. He’d used her name. He knew who she was. She was the target.
The angle of her neck kept her immobilized. Dark spots danced before her eyes, and the roar of her pulse pounded in her ears. Her life could not end this way, but her brain fogged and her muscles refused to cooperate. She tried to struggle. Tried to fight. If she lost consciousness, she’d likely never awaken again.
The roar grew louder. The world grew darker. A voice sounded far away as a presence eased closer. “We have to move quickly, or we’ll have more bodies to worry about than hers.”
Mountain Springs police officer Alex “Rich” Richardson sat in a white folding chair and glanced around the renovated barn. If he leaned back too far, the rented folding chair would probably give way and dump him on his back. With most of the guests on the dance floor, likely no one would notice, but still...
Besides, he was peopled out for the week. His sweats, his couch and college football were singing their siren song. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to glance at his watch in a way that wouldn’t let the whole place know he was checking the time to see if he’d met his obligatory guest duties. Weddings had never been his favorite thing, and even less so now that—
“Thinking of bolting early on us?” His army buddy Jason Barnes slid into the chair next to his. “The celebration’s just getting started.”
Rich drummed his fingers on the table. No doubt Jason was in a celebrating mood. He’d been married to Erin for a little less than a year and had announced yesterday that a baby Barnes was on the way. His pal’s life was right on track, where he’d always wanted it to be.
Unlike Rich’s. This was the third wedding he’d been forced to attend in the past year. First Jason and Erin, then their mutual friends Wyatt and Jenna Stephens, and now this one. Two years ago he hadn’t known any of these people except Jason, and now he was not only a guest at their weddings but had somehow managed to have a hand in saving the lives of two of their wives.
Too bad he hadn’t been able to save his own fiancée.
Jason stretched out his legs and crossed his arms. “Erin sent me over to see if you’d go find Sam’s teammate Dana. She wandered outside, and they want all the single ladies for the bouquet toss.”
“She won’t come in for that.” They’d spent enough time together this week for him to know a bouquet catch wasn’t on Dana’s bucket list. In fact, she’d probably slipped out and headed back to the B and B where the girls were staying. She was about as much of a social butterfly as he was. They were both social caterpillars who’d stuck close to each other for most of the wedding festivities, chatting about her work with WitSec, his military career and his brand-new job at the police department. Shop. All they’d talked was shop.
It had actually been pretty nice.
Jason looked over his shoulder at the big barn doors. “You’re probably right. At least go talk her into coming inside. She’s been quiet tonight and needs to have some fun. Sort of like you do.”
“You’re a laugh riot. Fine. If it will stop you from hounding me...” Rich grabbed his gray blazer from the back of the chair and pulled it on, careful of the twinge that still pinched his shoulder, even after two years. He’d noticed Jason limping earlier, so clearly the cold was hitting them both in their old wounds. Swiping his hands down his jeans, he headed out into the cold, clear mountain night.
Rich scanned the area as the beat of an early-’90s dance jam drowned out the night sounds. The bright stars and the full moon allowed him to see Dana Santiago wasn’t anywhere close to the barn.
Wonder where she’d headed? Surely she wouldn’t sneak off without saying goodbye to Sam and Amy. She was friendlier than that, with a full-lipped smile that lit up big brown eyes and—
Really? He’d noticed her eyes were brown? Since when did he notice such stuff?
He was three steps toward the parking lot when activity near the bend in the line of cars quickened his steps. It looked like...trouble.
Two men carried a clearly unconscious woman toward a car whose engine was running. The trunk and both front doors stood open.
The woman’s long brown hair swung wildly as they hurried toward the vehicle.
Dana.
This was a snatch-and-grab if he’d ever seen one. Slick. Planned. Targeted. The way those guys were moving, they were experienced.
No time to call for help, not that anyone would hear him over the music. He was on his own. If he could reach them before they knew he was coming, he might be able to intervene.
The man carrying Dana’s feet made eye contact with Rich, said something to his partner in what sounded like Spanish, then dropped her feet and made a run for Rich. His shoulder dipped low as though he intended to catch Rich at center mass.
Rich sidestepped at the last second and, with a mighty sideways thrust, caught the man in the shoulder and slammed him into the rear of a pickup. There was a sickening thud as the man’s head connected with the bumper. He dropped like a wet rag.
His partner shut the trunk over Dana and raced for the driver’s side of the vehicle, where the door hung open and waiting.
Adrenaline pumping, Rich dived for the open passenger door and made it inside as the driver reached for the gearshift. With all the force he could muster given the tight space, Rich slammed his fist into the driver’s jaw with an uppercut.
He sank against the seat, breathing heavily as the other man slumped. Then he looked for a third attacker, but none showed his face. Either these were the only two or anyone else had fled the scene instead of making another run at Dana.
Dana. In the trunk.
Rich turned off the car, grabbed the keys and pressed the trunk release on the key fob. He rushed to the rear of the car. Lord, let her only be unconscious and not...
He shook off the rest of the prayer and lifted the lid of the trunk. In the faint light, Dana shifted and scrambled upright, already fighting, then gasped. “Rich.” With a sigh that had to empty her lungs, she sank as though her bones had melted.
He reached for her, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other beneath her back, then hefted her out of the trunk. Her head rested on his shoulder as though she’d been robbed of all fight.
Relief and an adrenaline crash leaked the strength from his muscles. She was alive. “I’m going to get Wyatt, have him arrest these guys and call in backup.” As police chief, Wyatt would want to know what had happened on his property ASAP. “Then we’ll get you looked at by—”
A scuffing sound whipped him around. The driver stumbled out of the car and ran for the woods with his buddy on his heels. Rich moved to set Dana down and give chase, but she tightened her grip around his neck and shook her head. “You have to get me out of here, otherwise more will come and someone innocent could get killed.”