0373447477 (R) Page 2

  Quinn stilled, all the fight seeping out of her.

  The kid was another story. She sounded like one of the baby hogs Malone’s grandfather had kept on their Tennessee farm, squealing frantically for her mother.

  Only Quinn wasn’t this kid’s mother.

  If Malone’s boss Chance Miller was right, August McConnell’s other sister, Tabitha, wasn’t the little girl’s mother, either. Her mother was Boone Anderson’s deceased wife. Boone was the kid’s father, and five years of searching, five years of hoping and praying that the infant Boone’s wife had stolen away from him would be returned, had finally ended. Boone would have what he’d been praying for. He’d have his child back. Everyone at HEART was focused on making sure that nothing went wrong, that the little girl who might be Boone’s would arrive in DC safely.

  If Boone hadn’t been on the way home from a hostage rescue mission in Turkey, he’d have been the one hanging onto Quinn Robertson listening to the kid scream. Boone had been notified of his daughter’s supposed return. He’d be stateside in thirty hours. Until he returned, Malone and Chance were taking responsibility for the child. There’d be lots of questions, lots of police and FBI involvement.

  And Malone was going to be in the middle of it all until Chance arrived from DC. Another two hours maybe. That’s what Chance had said when he’d called to ask Malone to drive to August McConnell’s place. It had seemed like an easy enough thing to do. Malone was taking his vacation in a cabin not too far from McConnell’s property. All he had to do was wait around until Chance arrived.

  Of course, things were never as easy as they were supposed to be. At least not in Malone’s experience.

  And, this?

  It was proving to be pretty complicated.

  He eased his hand from Quinn’s mouth, took a step away. He hadn’t meant to scare her or the child. He’d been working out of an abundance of caution, making sure that the person crawling out from the roots of an old tree wasn’t armed and dangerous. He and August had found Quinn’s abandoned Jeep, they’d heard men moving through the forest, they’d assumed trouble. Doing that was a whole lot better than winding up dead.

  “No more screaming, kid,” he said quietly.

  “Telling her that isn’t going to make her stop,” Quinn muttered, taking a step back and then another. If she kept going, she’d fall into the hole he’d watched her climb out of.

  “And running from me isn’t going to keep you safe,” he responded, snagging her elbow as her foot slipped between thick roots. The tree throw had been a good hiding place. He’d give her that, but she should have stayed put until her brother arrived, and she knew she was safe.

  “Watch it,” he cautioned, pulling her away from the roots. “We don’t want to end our first meeting on a bad note.”

  “We sure began it on a bad note. Where’s August?” she asked, shrugging away, her arms still tight around the little girl.

  “Probably hiding until the kid stops shrieking.”

  “She wouldn’t be screaming, if you hadn’t terrified her.” There was no heat in her words, no fear. For someone who’d been run off the road and chased through the woods, she seemed calm.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure who was coming up out of that hole, and I didn’t want to be shot before I figured it out.”

  She nodded, her attention on the girl. “It’s okay, Jubilee. Everything is going to be fine.”

  She smoothed thick braids that fell over the kid’s shoulders.

  Red braids?

  It was too dark to see, but Boone’s little girl had red hair. At least, she had when she was a baby. Malone had seen the photo in Boone’s office, sitting right next to the one of his new wife and their children.

  “Hush,” Quinn murmured against the girl’s hair, and to Malone’s surprise, the kid pressed her lips together and stopped screaming, the abrupt silence thick and heavy.

  He glanced around, eyeing the shadowy trees and the heavy undergrowth. Anyone could be hiding there, and all it would take was one bullet to take Quinn or the little girl out. If that was the perp’s goal. If not, Malone would be the target. Take him out. Grab the kid. Get out before August arrived.

  “Let’s go.” He took Quinn’s arm, leading her toward the ridge and the Jeep that was parked at the top of it.

  “August—”

  “Is smart enough to figure out that we’re not going to wait out in the open for him to show,” he cut her off, digging into his coat pocket and pulling out the little pack of chocolate candies he always kept there. Years ago, he’d used them to bribe his siblings and cousins. Now, he used them to comfort scared kids. A necessity, because he wasn’t like Boone or Chance or Chance’s brother Jackson. He didn’t have the ability to look kind or easygoing or harmless. Most kids took one look at Malone’s face and were terrified. According to his coworker Stella Silverstone, that wasn’t because of his scar. It was because of his scowl. One he apparently wore all the time. The candy might not make that any easier on the eyes, but it sure helped get cooperation from kids. That went a long way when he was trying to get them out of dangerous situations.

  “You hungry, Kendal?” he asked, holding the little packet out to her.

  “Her name is Jubilee,” Quinn said.

  “Not if she’s Boone Anderson’s daughter, it isn’t,” he responded, smiling as the kid took the candy from his hand.

  “Even if she’s his daughter, her name is Jubilee. That’s what she goes by. It’s what she knows. Forcing her to respond to something else would just be cruel.”

  “Okay. Jubilee it is.” It wasn’t his battle to fight, and he wasn’t concerned one way or another with the kid’s name. What he was concerned about was getting her to Boone alive.

  That shouldn’t have been a problem.

  Chance had assured him that the job would be easy. Meet August McConnell at his house, wait with Quinn Robertson and the little girl she was traveling with until Chance arrived. Go back to his vacation.

  Piece of cake.

  Only, of course, it wasn’t.

  That was a lot worse for Jubilee than it was for Malone. He could vacation anytime. He had plenty of leave saved and plenty of freedom to go when and where he wanted. Jubilee deserved better than this, though. He planned to make sure she got it. He’d spent too many years helping raise his four siblings and six cousins to want to spend much time with kids now, but he wasn’t going to let a child be hurt or scared without doing something about it.

  Maybe that’s why he loved his job so much. He got to effect change in the lives of kids like Jubilee all the time. As a matter of fact, half the cases he’d worked for HEART involved kids who were being used, abused or held hostage. It seemed as though that was the way of the world—the innocent were often the most ill-used.

  God was still in control, that’s what Granddad Cooper had always said. Granddad had been a preacher. He’d also been caregiver to a houseful of kids. All of them left orphaned when their parents died in a multivehicle car wreck outside of Reedville, Tennessee. That wreck had cost Granddad Cooper his two oldest sons and their wives, but it hadn’t cost him his faith. He’d held fast to that through the next twenty-some years of trying to raise eleven kids.

  Malone probably could have learned a thing or two from that. If he’d ever slowed down enough to think about it.

  He frowned, eyeing the top of the ridge.

  The silence was bothering him. A lot. So was the fact that August hadn’t shown up. With all the screaming Jubilee had done, Malone would have expected a guy like August to come running. He had ex-marine written all over him—quiet, gruff and not too keen on strangers showing up in the darkest hours of the morning. Not surprising. Chance had done a background check before he’d called Malone. According to him, August had served in the Marine Corps until three years ago. He’d taken a medical discharge, then, and had worked private security ever since.

  Malone had spent forty minutes with the guy, and he could say for certain that
August didn’t do patience, he didn’t believe in waiting and he’d never hold back when he could be taking action.

  Unless something kept him from doing it.

  Or someone.

  Malone didn’t believe in leaving anyone behind, but he couldn’t risk Quinn and Jubilee’s lives. He’d bring them back to August’s place. Once he made sure they were secure there, he’d return for August.

  What he wouldn’t do was the expected.

  Quinn’s Jeep and August’s vehicle were at the top of the ridge. If someone wanted to stage an ambush, that would be the place to do it.

  “Change of plans,” he said, taking Jubilee from Quinn’s arms. “We’re going to walk to your brother’s place.”

  “I can carry her.” Quinn reached for Jubilee.

  “That will slow us down.”

  “I ran through the woods with her in my arms. I think I can manage a short hike.”

  “You can, but is it the safest option?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Jubilee was screaming like a banshee, and your brother didn’t show up. That could be because he was a good distance away and wasn’t sure what direction the screams were coming from, or it could be because someone stopped him.” He didn’t hold back, didn’t have time to soften his answer.

  “That’s not a pleasant thought.”

  “No. It’s not. Neither is the thought of you carrying Jubilee if some guy comes charging after us. She’s little but so are you, and it will be a lot easier for me to run with her than for you to.”

  “I prefer petite to little,” Quinn muttered, moving beside him as he followed the ridgeline. She took two strides for every one of his, her small frame drowning in an oversize sweatshirt.

  “If you’re dead,” he responded bluntly, “I guess that won’t matter.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He guessed she’d gotten the point.

  Stella would have had a field day reaming him out for his less-than-delicate approach. Fortunately, she wasn’t there. Something was going on, and until Malone knew what it was, he didn’t have time to waste playing nice.

  He jogged through the trees, the kid’s long braids slapping his shoulders and face. She had a bruise on her cheek. He could see the dark smudge of it against her pale skin. He thought there were freckles on her nose, too.

  Freckles and red hair?

  He didn’t ask Quinn. No talking. As little noise as possible. Every cell in his body focused on getting them out of the woods and to safety.

  Up ahead, a shadow moved through the trees. Silent, barely visible in the darkness. Malone reached for Quinn’s hand, yanked her behind a huge evergreen.

  “What—?”

  He pressed his finger to her lips, gestured for her to be quiet. For a moment, he heard nothing. Then, furtive steps. The hunter on the prowl. He handed Jubilee to Quinn, pressed them both deeper into the pine needles.

  “Stay here until I come back for you,” he whispered in Quinn’s ear, the words more breath than sound.

  She nodded her understanding, and then he slid back into the forest, heading for the shadowy figure that was stalking them.

  TWO

  Quinn had never liked horror movies. Right at the moment, she felt as if she were living in one. Only this wasn’t a movie. This was real-life terror. This was her alone in the woods with an innocent life depending on her. She didn’t know where the guy had gone. She didn’t even know what his name was. All she knew was that he’d told her to stay put until he returned.

  From where?

  That’s what she needed to know.

  Had he seen something?

  Heard something?

  How long should she wait?

  Ten minutes?

  Twenty?

  Jubilee’s head rested on her shoulder, her hand lax against Quinn’s bicep. She was exhausted, of course. Probably terrified, too. She’d been left with a stranger, carted hundreds of miles away from her home, and now she was in the dark woods waiting for something horrible to happen.

  Quinn wanted to ease out from behind the tree and creep through the woods until she found her brother’s house. She was afraid, though, terrified of making a mistake. If Cory were here, he’d know what to do. A deputy sheriff in Echo Lake, he’d always known exactly what every situation required. He wasn’t there, though, and Quinn would have to figure this out on her own.

  Somewhere beyond the tree, leaves crackled. She waited, expecting to hear men’s voices, a shouted warning. Fist against flesh. Something. Anything.

  She heard nothing but that soft crackling sound.

  She edged back until she was wedged between pine boughs, the sharp, tangy scent of broken needles filling her nose. Jubilee had gone still, one hand clutching the little bag of chocolate candy she’d been given, the other clutching a fistful of Quinn’s jacket.

  She still hadn’t spoken, but those screams? They’d probably stay with Quinn for the rest of her life. They’d been the sound of profound terror. No child should ever have to feel that. She shifted her grip on Jubilee, listening for any sign that August’s friend was returning. Friend? Maybe. Quinn had no idea who the guy really was. He hadn’t introduced himself, and she hadn’t thought to ask how he knew her brother. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, either. She had noticed the scar that bisected his cheek, though. If she’d met him before, she’d have remembered that.

  Jubilee shoved against her arms, trying to wiggle down. Quinn held tight. No way was she putting the child down, but August’s friend had been right about one thing—running with a five-year-old in her arms wasn’t going to be easy. Quinn had her mother Alison’s build—small-boned, short, thin. Her sprint from the Jeep had been fed by adrenaline. Now, she felt tired, her arms aching, her legs trembling. Still, she wanted to run. She just wasn’t sure what direction to go.

  They couldn’t stay there forever.

  Eventually, the night would pass, day would dawn, and they’d be sitting ducks, waiting to be spotted by whoever was after them.

  Tabitha’s husband?

  It was the only thing that made sense. Quinn had no enemies. She barely had any friends. Funny how people pulled away during times of grief. Strange how those that she’d been closest to seemed to have drifted the furthest after Cory was buried. Or maybe she’d been the one to drift away, separating herself out from the pack of happy, successful couples that she and Cory had once gone bowling with, camped with, biked and hiked with.

  She shook the memories away, ducked beneath the pine boughs and stepped out of the shadow of the tree. She had to move or she’d be frozen forever, too terrified to do anything but wait for someone to find her.

  Jubilee stared at her through eyes made dark by fatigue. Wisps of hair had escaped the braids they’d been plaited into. A few long strands straggled across her neck and curled up to touch the bruise on her cheek.

  Poor kid. She hadn’t slept much during the long drive. She’d just sat in her booster, staring out the window. She hadn’t spoken, but she’d responded to questions with nods or shakes of her head. Obviously, she had a good receptive vocabulary. There was no doubt that she’d understood everything Tabitha had said to Quinn. She knew she was going to DC to see her biological father. Had she met Daniel Boone Anderson before? That was something Quinn should have asked, but she’d been too shocked by Tabitha’s sudden appearance to think straight.

  A light flashed to the right. There. Gone. Someone searching through the woods, and whoever it was had probably heard Quinn shuffling through the dead pine needles and fallen leaves.

  Quinn didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare go back to the tree or duck into another hole. They’d find her this time. She was certain of it.

  She sprinted into a thicket, brambles and branches tearing at her hair and snagging the comfortable yoga pants she’d worn for the ride.

  She barely felt it.

  Keep going. That’s all she could think about. Run as fast as you can.

&nb
sp; Jubilee’s weight slowed Quinn down, but she pushed through the other side of the thicket, dodging through trees. Her foot caught on roots that snaked out of the ground, and she fell hard, skidding on her knees, one hand on the ground, the other clutching Jubilee.

  A man stepped out in front of her, appearing so quickly, she thought she must be imagining the dark form.

  He moved toward her and she scrambled up.

  “I have a gun,” she lied, her voice shaking.

  “No, you don’t. You’re a pacifist to the core,” the man responded, his voice so familiar, she wanted to cry with relief.

  “August?”

  “Yeah, and you’re lucky it is. Didn’t Malone tell you to stay hidden?” he responded.

  “Not exactly,” she hedged.

  “Exactly,” a man said, his voice coming from behind Quinn. “I told you to stay put until I got back.”

  “I decided I’d be safer heading to my brother’s place.”

  “Your brother was the one I saw walking through the trees. If you’d given me half a minute to check things out, you could have saved us all some time.”

  “I gave you more than half a minute.”

  “Learn a little patience. It might save your life one day,” he retorted, his eyes blazing through the darkness.

  “How about we discuss this at my place?” August cut in. “I’ll feel a whole lot better about everything once we’re not standing in the woods making it easy for any sniper who happens to be skulking around.”

  A sniper?

  That wasn’t something Quinn wanted to think about.

  She shuddered, clutching Jubilee a little tighter.

  “I agree,” Malone said. “I don’t know about you, McConnell, but I’m not liking the way things are playing out.”

  “You want to walk or go back to my SUV?” August asked. The fact that he was asking surprised Quinn. August had been doing his own thing and going his own way for as long as she could remember. He’d joined the marines at eighteen, been discharged honorably five years later. Now he worked private security, traveling around the country doing work for a high-profile security firm. He didn’t ask anyone for advice, and he never seemed to need help.