Texas Takedown (11 page)

“I don't want to put anyone else in harm's way. There's already enough on the line here as it is.” She didn't want to think about what those men might be doing to her father.

“They won't kill him. Not as long as you're out here and they believe you know the truth.” Dylan didn't say that they wouldn't torture her father, beat him trying to get information out of him. The thought left acid churning in her stomach. Bile rose to her throat, burning her esophagus.

“Whatever he might've done or been involved in, he's not a bad person.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, grateful. An emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on crossed behind his eyes.

“Speaking of which, we need to get your father's computer information to my contact. He might be able to access it remotely and quite possibly give us a name to work with.” Dylan held up his phone.

“Right. Let's see what he can dig up.”

Jorge, true to form, picked up on the second ring.

“I need you to take a peek into a computer for me,” Dylan said into the line. “And there's someone I'd like you to talk to.”

After relaying her name, Dylan passed the cell toward her.

Samantha took the offering and said, “Hello.”

“Nice to meet you. Well, sort of. What do you have for me?” Jorge asked.

“I can give you file names and passwords. How you'll get into the system, I have no idea.”

“Don't figure you have an IP address for me?”

“That would be a no.”

“You have a website or social media page?”

“Yeah. Both.”

“Give me the company name and I'll work from there.” That was all he needed to access data files? That was scary, she thought as she rattled off the information.

“Cool. Tell Snap-trap to stay put. Let him know that I'll call back in a few minutes.”

“Snap-trap?” She glanced at Dylan, who was shaking his lowered head.

“Oh, yeah. Crud. I'm pretty sure that'll get me in trouble. I mean that big ugly guy standing next to you.”

She thanked Jorge and ended the call with an eyebrow cocked toward Dylan. “You plan on explaining that one?”

“You don't want to know what it means.”

“I think I do, actually. How on earth did you pick up the name Snap-trap?”

Had his cheeks just flushed red-hot? It was about time he was embarrassed instead of her.

“I'd tell you but I took an oath never to discuss it. And he wasn't supposed to, either.”

She stood so she could look him in the eyes. Thankfully, only her shoulder hurt and not her legs. “I have one word for you.”

“Really?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you care to impart your...wisdom?”

“I sure do.”

“Today?”

“Fine. Here goes. My word for you is...
chicken
.”

Chapter Ten

Chicken?
Dylan had half a mind to show her what was really on his. If he did, there'd be no going back, because it involved the two of them being naked on that couch. And he couldn't go there right now, no matter how much his body battled him.

“I have a word for you, too,” he said.

“I'm not so sure I want to hear this.” Her tongue darted across her lips, and he thought about how good she tasted, how he liked the way they fit when their bodies were molded together.

Against his better judgment, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him until her body was flush with his. He was tempting his self-control with the move but there were times when he just had to say to hell with it.

“Beautiful. Sexy. Intelligent.”

“That's three words,” she said against his mouth.

“I never was good at following rules.” He stood his ground. For the moment, logical thought ruled. If he stayed much longer, he couldn't be certain he wouldn't change his mind. And that was another reason he wanted to break off on his own. He needed to clear his thoughts. Being this close to her was doing crazy things to his normally practical head.

“You lose.” With that, she delved her tongue inside his mouth. His body tensed, all his muscles locking up at the same time, and he decided not to fight it. Instead, he placed his hand on the back of her neck, curling his fingers around the base, and tilted her head.

Dylan had had wild sex in the past but nothing that compared to the heat in this kiss.

When he gathered enough willpower to pull back, he pressed his forehead to hers. “
Damn
. Keep that up and you're going to destroy me.”

He'd never believed in kisses that made a person go weak at the knees until right then.

His cell buzzed.

Dylan took a sharp breath. He needed to put a little space between him and Samantha. He liked how she fit him a little too much for either his or her own good.

A glance at the screen said it was Jorge. He showed it to her and then answered.

“I got interesting information for you, bro.”

“Hit me with it.” Dylan held the phone so that Samantha could hear.

“The corporation that owns the property for your drop is the same one that sent considerable funds to her father's company about fifteen years ago. They've been making deposits ever since.”

Samantha sank down to her knees and folded forward.

Dylan guided her to the couch.

“You got any idea who's behind that company?”

“Not yet. I'm still digging, though.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“You might not be thanking me when I send you my invoice this month.” Jorge laughed.

Dylan ended the call. Samantha sat there looking lost and alone, in fierce contrast to the woman who'd been in his arms moments ago. A little piece of the armor guarding his heart cracked.

“We'll get to the bottom of this.”

“You know what this says, right?”

“It doesn't necessarily mean—”

“What? That my dad is blackmailing someone? I think we're both pretty clear on what's happening.”

It certainly explained why he had the money to send four kids to college after cashing out their life savings to move to Mason Ridge. Dylan hadn't really thought about it before, but her father had sure pulled off a miracle. Bringing up kids was expensive. He knew that firsthand.

There weren't exactly long lines out the door of the hardware store. Purchases were small. Her dad would've had to sell a lot of nails to pull off raising four kids. Not that they were rich by any means. But sending four kids to four-year colleges was no small feat these days.

Then again, Samantha had gone on athletic scholarship.

“Did you or your brothers take out college loans?”

“Nope. None of us. Most of mine was paid for by my scholarship, but he paid for the boys.”

“I know how this looks, but we don't want to convict him without hearing his side of the story.”

“You're being awfully generous to a man who is most likely a criminal.”

“Nope.” He leaned back on his heels. “I'm covering all the bases. Your father blackmailing someone is just one angle out of a possible half dozen scenarios.”

“You have other ideas?”

“Someone could have been paying him to stay quiet, threatening him. We keep circling back to Alcorn, and he has the money to silence pretty much anyone. Your dad might've decided to break the deal, and so Alcorn came after him. And when he couldn't get to him, he tried to snatch you.”

“That explains a lot. You might be right and I want to believe it. Even so, that's still breaking the law.”

“Maybe he didn't feel as if he had a choice. A desperate parent would go to any lengths for their children.” Dylan had no doubt he'd kill for Maribel if push came to shove. Other than that, he couldn't see himself breaking the law, but then, he hadn't been in a position where he'd needed to. He didn't rule anything out.

She stared at him for a long moment. “I can see that you'd do anything for your daughter.”

“Without a doubt. A parent's love is a powerful thing.”

Her chest deflated and she winced at the motion, glancing toward her sore shoulder.

“I can give you something for the pain. You don't have to be a hero.” He made a move toward the first-aid kit.

She nodded.

Good. Watching her suffer when he knew he could help was worse than him being the one to take a bullet. There was already so much pain he couldn't take from her. At least he could give her a pair of ibuprofen and help her shoulder. Dylan located a bottle of water and brought the pain relievers to her.

She dry swallowed them, squeezed off the plastic cap and then took a good drink.

He had to fight the urge to take her into his arms again. He'd just be playing with fire. Dylan needed space. His fingers curled and released a few times, and that was better than letting them do what they wanted. If they had their way, they'd be tunneled into her dark mane while he kissed her again.

And that would be a mistake.

“Think you can rest?” he asked.

“Probably not but it never hurts to try.”

“Good. Close your eyes and by the time you open them again, I should be back.” Dylan had no plans to be a liar. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Dylan packed his duffel with a protein bar and water and then listened at the door for a solid twenty minutes before making a move. He slipped out of the office and the barn and into the nearby woods without drawing attention to himself.

Hiking to the abandoned car took half an hour on his own. He made much better time that way. Too bad he couldn't use the small sedan. There'd be a stolen-vehicle report by now. Last thing he needed was to be picked up and detained.

Normally, he liked being on his own, but his thoughts bounced back and forth between Maribel and Samantha, and worry was a wildfire unleashed inside him, engulfing him. He told himself that this was exactly what it would be like to have a woman in his life permanently. His attention would be divided. He'd always be battling between needing to protect Maribel and be both mother and father to her and trying to spend enough time with someone new to develop a relationship.

Maribel deserved better. She was his priority,
had
to be his main concern. Always. She'd already lost so much.

Otherwise, Samantha would have been exactly the type of woman he could see himself asking out, spending some time getting to know better.

He almost laughed out loud. He'd known Samantha since fifth grade. He'd kissed her more times than he'd intended to in the past twenty-four hours, and his body already had her imprint. How much better did he need to
know
someone in order to go on a date?

Luckily, Brody's place wasn't too far from Mason Ridge Lake. Dylan slipped through the woods rather than taking a main road. He could hike there in an hour at this pace. This time, he fully intended to surprise the bastard who'd taken his Maribel instead of being on the receiving end of the surprise again. His plan was to come from behind the lake, gain a perspective and then secure the target.

He figured the item was near the shed that Rebecca and Shane had been taken to when they'd been kidnapped, a sick reminder that this guy was still in control.

Not for long.

Dylan held on to those three words as he pushed through the underbrush, thankful he was wearing jeans. At least he had something to cover his ankles. His arms were getting torn up by the branches thanks to short sleeves.

For the past hour, he'd been able to think about only two things: Maribel and Samantha.

It would be dark in a few hours and he hated the thought that his baby would sleep away from her bed another night. Fury tore through him.

No. Maribel would sleep at home in her own room, wearing her own pajamas by the time the sun rose on a new day. He repeated the mantra over and over in his head.

He pulled his binoculars out of his pack and crouched low. Patience won fights. Fights won battles. Battles won wars.

And he had a deep freakin' well.

Dylan hadn't counted how many hours had passed since he'd taken his position. Three guys, together, came and went at different points during his stay. They were checking back regularly, trying to be stealthy but making a ton of noise to his trained ear. There was always something with civilians that made it easy to track them. He'd followed them to their vehicle once, his heart pounding by the time he reached the Ford F-150, thinking they might have brought her with them. Maribel had not been inside.

The guys left again and Dylan decided to make his move. At a minimum, he had half an hour to find the doll. None of the guys hung back, so it was now or never.

* * *

S
AMANTHA
 
HAD
 
BEEN
 
pacing for hours when a soft knock at the door came. Her nerves were already set to burning embers, so she jumped at the noise. No way would Dylan knock, and she didn't want to give away the fact they were staying in the barn should this be a worker looking for Brody. She scooted around the side of the desk, out of view, and searched for a weapon just in case. Samantha had no intention of being caught off guard ever again. She might startle at noises for the rest of her life but she would never be jumped again.

The door slowly opened as she gripped a fire extinguisher and crouched low. Anyone who got close was about to be clobbered.

“Samantha?” Rebecca whispered. The door closed softly.

“Right here.” Samantha let out the breath she'd been holding on a small sigh and stood. She glanced at the fire extinguisher in her hand at the same time Rebecca did. “Sorry. It's been a rough few days.”

“Believe me. I know.” Rebecca, white-knuckling a food container, lightened her grip as she walked over to Samantha and hugged her.

“I'm so sorry for everything you've gone through.” And Samantha meant every word. Guilt washed over her as she embraced her friend. If her father really had known what had happened that night all those years ago, as he claimed, then he could've helped find Shane. Losing him had destroyed the Hughes family, the town. Samantha didn't want to admit to her friend what she suspected about her father. And yet not telling Rebecca felt like a whole different kind of betrayal.

“We found him. He's alive. That's all that really matters,” Rebecca said.

“But your family...”

“My parents would've split up eventually. I've come to realize that now. Probably better to have figured it out years ago so they could get on with their lives,” Rebecca said thoughtfully. “I don't know if I can ever truly forgive Thomas Kramer for what he did—don't get me wrong. Losing Shane was the hardest thing I've ever been through, and I never want to go through that again. I still can't even think of having children of my own yet. But I also don't want to walk around with a chip on my shoulder.”

“Makes it feel as though they've won in a weird way, doesn't it?” Samantha hated that feeling. She wanted to tell Rebecca the person truly responsible might be Charles Alcorn. She couldn't. Not yet. Not until they had evidence.

“Exactly. Nobody has time for that.” Rebecca smiled.

Maybe Samantha could forgive her father. She'd done it before when he was drinking. Not that being a drunk was a good excuse or gave him a free pass, but she knew he never would've made the decision to cover up a kidnapping if he'd been sober. If that was in fact what he'd done.

He'd been part of the search team. Had all that been for show?