0373447477 (R)

  TO SAVE A CHILD

  In the dark of night, Quinn Robertson is on the run with her little niece, desperate to bring the child to her biological father. All Quinn knows from her scared sister is that the girl is in terrible danger. And when a security and rescue specialist intercepts Quinn and claims he’s there to help her, she isn’t sure who to trust. According to Malone Henderson, Quinn’s niece was stolen as a baby from her real father—the very man Quinn is trying to reach. As Quinn works with Malone to uncover the truth, someone is trying very hard to make sure certain secrets stay buried, and that father and daughter are never reunited.

  Mission: Rescue—No job is too dangerous for these fearless heroes

  Quinn needed to know the truth, and she needed to know her sister was safe.

  “Everything okay in here?” a man said, the voice so unexpected Quinn jumped.

  Malone stood on the threshold, his broad shoulders nearly filling the space.

  “You scared a year off my life.”

  “Sorry,” he said easily.

  “It wouldn’t matter if I hadn’t already had ten years scared off back in the woods.”

  He nodded, his expression hard. “Things could have gone really bad back there.”

  “I know. If you and my brother hadn’t come along, they would have gotten Jubilee.”

  “And killed you.” The words were so blunt, his voice gruff.

  “They didn’t.”

  “When did you notice them following you?”

  When had she?

  She remembered spotting the truck on her way through New York, seeing it again a few hours later in Pennsylvania. “They were following me for a couple hundred miles.”

  “Seems odd that they were able to pick up your trail so far from home.”

  She hadn’t thought about that. She’d been too busy trying to figure out how to escape them.

  Aside from her faith and her family, there’s not much Shirlee McCoy enjoys more than a good book! When she’s not teaching or chauffeuring her five kids, she can usually be found plotting her next Love Inspired Suspense story or wandering around the beautiful Inland Northwest in search of inspiration. Shirlee loves to hear from readers. If you have time, drop her a line at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.

  Books by Shirlee McCoy

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Mission: Rescue

  Protective Instincts

  Her Christmas Guardian

  Exit Strategy

  Deadly Christmas Secrets

  Mystery Child

  Capitol K-9 Unit

  Protection Detail

  Capitol K-9 Unit Christmas

  “Protecting Virginia”

  Heroes for Hire

  Running for Cover

  Running Scared

  Running Blind

  Lone Defender

  Private Eye Protector

  Undercover Bodyguard

  Navy SEAL Rescuer

  Fugitive

  Defender for Hire

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  MYSTERY

  CHILD

  Shirlee McCoy

  I know that I will live to see the Lord’s goodness

  in this present life. Trust in the Lord. Have faith,

  do not despair. Trust in the Lord.

  —Psalms 27:13–14

  To my ever faithful God.

  Who sees me in my weakest state and loves me anyway.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM DECEPTION BY ELIZABETH GODDARD

  ONE

  They were coming.

  She could hear them as clearly as she could hear her pulse pounding frantically in her ears. Feet crunching on dry leaves, clothing brushing against pine boughs, the sounds of pursuit ringing through the dark forest.

  A twig snapped, and Quinn Robertson shrank deeper into the tree throw, her arms tight around her five-year-old niece. Jubilee didn’t speak, didn’t whimper or cry or beg for her mother. She hadn’t made a sound since they’d left Maine twelve hours ago.

  Please, God, don’t let her make one now.

  The prayer bubbled up, borne of desperation and just the tiniest bit of hope that it would be heard.

  Please...

  A light bounced over the thick tangle of roots that jutted up from the hole Quinn cowered in and swept toward the ridge she’d just run down. Tumbled down. She’d been terrified, and she hadn’t been careful. She was still terrified.

  Had her brother, August, gotten her message?

  Did he know how close she was to his house?

  Did he realize she should already have arrived?

  If she’d snagged her purse before she’d taken off, she could have texted to let him know she was in trouble, but she’d left it in the Jeep, her cell phone inside of it. There hadn’t been time to grab anything but Jubilee. By the time her niece was out of her booster seat, the car that had been following them, the car Quinn had pulled off the road to avoid, had made a U-turn and was heading back in their direction.

  She’d run into the forest that lined the rutted country road. She’d had no other choice. Tabitha had entrusted Jubilee into her care. She’d begged Quinn to bring the little girl to her father in DC. Her real father. Not the man Tabitha was married to—the man who’d left bruises on Jubilee’s cheek, bruises on Tabitha’s throat. The one Quinn had known nothing about. She hadn’t known her sister was married. She’d had no idea Tabitha had a child. Five years had passed since she’d seen her sister face-to-face, and suddenly she was at Quinn’s door begging for help, her eye black, finger-sized bruises trailing down the column of her throat.

  Quinn hadn’t hesitated. She’d agreed to do what Tabitha was asking. She probably would have agreed even if her sister had told her how much danger she might find herself in.

  A lot of danger. More than she should be facing alone.

  Quinn shuddered, holding her breath as someone raced past her hiding space. Jubilee lifted her head from Quinn’s shoulder, her long braids snagging on roots that jutted into the tree hole.

  Please, don’t cry, Quinn wanted to say, but a light slid over their hiding spot, illuminating the darkness for a heartbeat of time.

  Quinn eased deeper into the hole, the loamy scent of earth mixing with decaying leaves and rotting wood. Branches jabbed into her ribs and back, scraping skin off her shoulder as she pressed into the root system of the fallen tree.

  A voice called out. Someone answered, footsteps pounding on the ground nearby. The hunters weren’t giving up. They were determined to find their prey.

  Did they realize how close they were?

  Could they hear the frantic pounding of Quinn’s heart? The quiet panting of Jubilee’s breath?

  How long would it take for them to discover the fallen tree? The hole Quinn and Jubilee were cowering in? Long enough for August to find the Jeep? If he was out looking, if he’d gotten her message, if he realized she and Jubilee were in trouble, he could be there in minutes, but that was way too many “ifs” for Quinn’s peace of mind.

  Leaves crackled, branches broke and
Quinn could hear the loud gasping breaths of someone just feet away. She tensed, her arms tight around Jubilee. She had to protect her. She’d promised Tabitha that she would. Of course, at the time, she hadn’t realized she was putting herself at risk. Knowing the truth wouldn’t have changed anything. Quinn still would have agreed to Tabitha’s plan. Only she would have been much better prepared.

  Instead, she’d blindly believed a sister she hadn’t seen in years and headed out with no weapon, no plan for protecting herself or Jubilee.

  It will be easier to disappear if we’re separated. Take her to DC. Her biological father is there. Don’t call the police or contact anyone before you get there. My husband has money, and he knows people who would be happy to help him get me back. If Jarrod has to use Jubilee to do it, he will. The best thing for her, and for me, is for you to get her to DC. The kid deserves better than what she’s been getting. I guess maybe I do, too.

  The kid...

  Such a strange thing to call your own child. It should have been a clue that something wasn’t right, that maybe Tabitha wasn’t being completely honest.

  Too late to worry about that now.

  Quinn had to find a way out of the mess she was in. She scooted backward, the soft rustle of leaves making her freeze.

  “Over here!” a man yelled, and Quinn bit back a scream.

  She expected the roots that hid them from view to be pulled away, for a monster in the guise of a person to suddenly appear.

  Jubilee’s arm snaked around Quinn’s neck, her fingers tangling in Quinn’s hair. The five-year-old was terrified, her body shaking, but she didn’t make a sound.

  Good girl, Quinn wanted to say, but leaves crunched and twigs snapped, and she knew their pursuers were closing in. Two men? Three? She hadn’t gotten a good look. She’d been too busy sprinting through the trees.

  Please, God, don’t let them find us.

  Please.

  The prayer whispered through her mind, a knee-jerk reaction to hard-core terror. She’d prayed like that before. The day after Cory’s brain cancer diagnosis, the weeks during his radiation and chemo treatments and at the end, when there’d been no hope, when Cory had been nothing but a shell of the man she’d married, she’d begged and pleaded and petitioned God.

  Maybe He’d heard.

  Maybe He hadn’t.

  He hadn’t answered. Not in any way that had mattered.

  Light splashed across the fallen oak, highlighting the giant tangle of roots that she and Jubilee had crawled beneath. She forced herself to stay still as the light found its way to the other side of the oak. The night went dark again, the woods silent and still. Leaves fell through the cracks in the root system, dirt raining down on Quinn’s head as someone moved past. Probably so close he could have reached in and grabbed Jubilee from Quinn’s arms.

  She was stiff with fear, numb with it. She wanted to run and find another place to hide, but she didn’t know where the guy with the light had gone. There were no more shouts, no more pounding footsteps. Just the darkness, the silence and Jubilee’s arm around her neck.

  In the distance, a car engine broke the silence, the sound growing closer with every passing second.

  August?

  If he’d gotten her message, he’d be out looking for her. She knew that. Just like she knew him. August was quick to plan and to act. He never hesitated. Not when it came to the people he loved.

  That’s why she’d called him when she’d first realized she might be being followed. It’s why she’d listened when he’d told her to drive to his rural Maryland property. He’d promised to contact Jubilee’s father, have the guy meet them at August’s place.

  It makes more sense than you driving to DC alone, Quinn, he’d said. If Tabitha is lying, you could be in a boatload of trouble for taking that kid out of Maine. The sooner you get her in her father’s hands, the better.

  Not something she hadn’t thought about, but thinking about it hadn’t been enough to make her break the promise she’d made.

  In for a penny. In for a pound.

  That’s what Grandma Ruth had always said. No sense beginning something and not finishing it. At least not in her mind, and not in Quinn’s.

  The car rumbled closer, the forest remaining silent. Not an animal moved, not a leaf rustled. The stillness terrified Quinn, the thought of someone lurking just out of sight made her pulse race. Jubilee shifted, the fabric of her dress swishing, the noise overly loud in the silence.

  “Shhhh,” Quinn wanted to warn, but she didn’t dare make a sound. The car engine died, a door slammed and a long low whistle broke the silence. Somewhere in the distance, a man called out, his voice edged with panic. Feet pounded on dry leaves, branches snapped. Someone was running, and he wasn’t being quiet about it.

  Was he calling off the hunt for Quinn and Jubilee?

  Please, God...

  Just that. She had nothing else, no profound prayer to offer, no bottomless well of hope. She’d used up every bit of faith she had when Cory was sick. Now, she planned for the worst, worked toward the best. She’d spent the past few years rebuilding her life, repaying medical bills that had piled up so high she hadn’t been sure she’d ever see the end of them. She’d worked full-time as a kindergarten teacher, part-time as a janitor. Sixty, seventy, eighty-hour workweeks, going home to the tiny efficiency apartment over Martha Graham’s bakery. She’d lived off ramen noodles and peanut-butter sandwiches. Two months ago, she’d finally paid the last medical bill. Now she was building her savings, looking down the road to a time when she could purchase a little house a few blocks away from Echo Lake.

  If she survived tonight.

  If a dozen things that could go wrong didn’t.

  Another car door slammed, the sound reverberating through the forest. Tires squealed and an engine roared. Then, the world went silent again.

  Quinn waited until her legs were numb, her arms stiff, before she moved. She waited until a night owl called from a nearby branch and a small animal scurried through the tree’s exposed roots. Finally, she eased out into the cool night air, Jubilee still clinging to her neck.

  Moonlight filtered through the thick tree canopy, dappling the leaves with gold. She glanced up the ridge she’d barreled down. Her Jeep wasn’t far from the top, parked in the small clearing she’d veered into when she’d realized the black SUV she’d spotted on the interstate had followed her onto the narrow road that led to August’s house. She could walk back to the Jeep, but she didn’t trust that the men who’d been following her were gone. Sure, she’d heard a vehicle drive away, but she’d also heard one arrive. Maybe it had been August, or maybe it had been someone else. Someone who wanted to get his hands on Jubilee?

  Quinn couldn’t take chances with the little girl’s life.

  She’d have to walk through the woods until she reached August’s property. She hefted Jubilee onto her hip, pried the little girl’s fingers from her neck.

  “Just a little looser, sweetheart,” she murmured. “If I pass out from lack of oxygen, we’ll both be in trouble.”

  Jubilee didn’t respond, but her gaze darted from Quinn to the ridge.

  Her silent watchfulness wasn’t normal five-year-old behavior. Quinn worked with kids every day, had been teaching for years, knew exactly how most children Jubilee’s age would act. Typical five-year-olds didn’t stay quiet during long road trips. They didn’t stay quiet when they were scared or hurt, either. Of course, this wasn’t a typical situation. Quinn couldn’t really expect Jubilee to act in a typical way. Maybe she would start talking once she was reunited with her father. Daniel Boone Anderson. The name was scrawled across the sealed manila envelope that Tabitha had thrust into Quinn’s hands. Beneath that, an address and phone number had been printed neatly next to the word HEART. Jubilee’s father. His work address and phone number.

  That’s all Tabitha had said about the envelope.

  The envelope that Quinn had promised not to open. The one she’d left tucked under t
he driver’s-side floor mat in the Jeep.

  A soft sound drifted through the darkness. Not leaves crackling or twigs snapping. Just a whisper of something that shouldn’t be there. A shifting in the air, a soft sigh.

  Quinn froze, her arms tightening around Jubilee as she scanned the darkness. Nothing but shadowy trees and bushes, but the night had gone quiet again.

  Was someone moving along the ridge? A dark figure darting through the trees?

  She turned and barreled into a hard chest.

  She screamed, the sound ripping from her throat as she tried to run. Someone snagged her shirt, dragged her back. She screamed again, Jubilee’s terrified howls mixing with hers.

  A hard hand slapped over her mouth.

  “Shhhhh!” a man hissed, but there was no way she planned to go quietly. She slammed her head into his chest, tried to knock him off balance. If she could loosen his grip, she and Jubilee might have a chance to escape.

  * * *

  Having a head shoved into his solar plexus wasn’t exactly how Malone Henderson had planned to spend the first morning of his vacation. A couple of eggs, buttered toast, some canoeing on Deep Creek Lake—that had been the plan.

  A wiggling, squirming, head-butting woman was not.

  Neither was a screaming kid.

  He pulled the woman up against his chest, tightening his grip just enough to keep her from slamming her head into his chest again.

  “Enough,” he said. “You want whoever ran you off the road to find us?”

  The woman mumbled something against his palm. The kid shrieked even louder.

  This was definitely not what he’d had in mind when he’d left HEART headquarters the previous day, fought his way through Beltway traffic and headed to the tiny vacation rental that he’d planned to spend seven very quiet days and nights enjoying.

  “With how loudly the kid is screaming,” he said, hoping that reason would win out over terror and that Quinn Robertson would calm down enough to calm down the kid, “your brother isn’t going to need me to call in our location. He’ll find his way here all on his own. So will whoever else happens to be hanging out in these woods.”