Texas Takedown

Once he narrowed the hunt there, finding her would be easy. Apartments had managers who followed rules, so an offer of cash to pay up a few months’ rent would draw too much unwanted attention. She would most likely rent a house something near campus, so she could easily get around by throwing on a hoodie and shorts to blend in with students.

A quick internet search revealed there were 387 houses for rent in the city of Austin. Twenty-three when narrowed down to places on or near campus. Dylan put his resources to work finding out which ones had been pulled from the market the day Samantha disappeared. Two. With a fifty-fifty chance of success, Dylan gambled on the house nearest campus and checked the tenant. No dice. The place had been rented by four people. He hit the jackpot on the second.

He made a quick call to Ms. Anderson to let her know he had to leave town, and then located his duffel. The hope of being home by Maribel’s bedtime fizzled as he stuffed a pair of jeans in the bag. He packed a sandwich to eat on the drive—roughly four hours one way, depending on traffic on I-35—left a note for Ms. Anderson to read Goodnight Moon to his daughter after tucking her into bed and locked the door behind him.

* * *

DYLAN LEANED AGAINST a tree six houses down from Samantha’s. He’d driven his small sedan rather than his SUV in order to better navigate Austin traffic. Based on his research, a UT shuttle should be passing by in ten minutes to pick up college kids and deliver them to campus. With others hanging around waiting on transportation, he had a better chance of going unnoticed. With his six-foot-two-inch muscular frame, he looked as if he should be in athletic housing. Camo pants and the burned-orange UT shirt he’d bought at the gas station on the way into town should help camouflage him. Duffel slung over his shoulder, he did his best to blend in.

If Samantha was in trouble or being held hostage, he didn’t want to tip off her captor. He had to consider the possibility that she wasn’t acting on her own free will. Dylan planned to take nothing for granted.

His pulse kicked up a notch when she came into view, walking toward the front door of her rental alone. With a long and lean body like hers, she could easily be confused for a student athlete. Her high school years spent playing volleyball had paid off, especially with those legs.

He slipped on eyeglasses specially fitted with binocular lenses. Her smoky-brown hair cut in long shiny layers with bangs that skimmed along her brows brought out a deeply erotic shade of wide-set almond-shaped blue eyes. They stood out against her oval face. Samantha had always been beautiful. At least that much had stayed the same. She’d been smart, too. Her beauty had caught his attention. Her sharp wit and sense of humor had kept it. He hoped that she hadn’t gone and done something stupid. Surely someone back home would’ve noticed if she’d changed.

Sometimes good girls were drawn to men who were bad for them. So far, there was no sign of a boyfriend. Good. He told himself it would be easier to help her with fewer people involved, and he didn’t like the idea she’d be on the run with a man.

She glanced around, looking more nervous than afraid. Her long fluid layers of brown hair framed an almost too beautiful face and highlighted a graceful, swan-like neck.

Ignoring the rapid increase in his heartbeat at seeing her, he bowed his head and focused on the newspaper he held, pretending to be studying it as he kept her in his peripheral.

She unlocked the door, glanced left to right once more and then slipped inside.

Paranoid?

Dylan had half a mind to stomp over and demand to know what was going on. That would be a mistake. The simple fact was that he didn’t know what he’d be walking into and didn’t want to tip his hand. He slipped off the glasses and then slid them inside his duffel as the shuttle arrived. The crowd around him thinned, forming a line to get on the bus. He stood back, allowing others to crowd in front of him.

At the last second, he spun around, ducked his head and made a beeline toward her place. Moving around the side of the house, he crouched below the windows, careful to avoid being cut by overgrown holly bushes lining his path. He walked the perimeter, peeking inside windows through cracks in the closed blinds. From what he could tell so far, she was alone.

The back door was locked. It took all of three seconds to change that with his bump key. He slowly opened the door, moved inside the kitchen and listened. He already knew the layout of the house. Using the Department of Defense satellite, he’d homed in on the address and taken pictures of everything inside and out, to the level of detail of her furniture arrangement. Memorizing every inch of the space, every crevice, was a habit formed during his military days. There were two bedrooms and a kitchen in back, all of which had doors that led to a dining room. The master bedroom was off the living room. The place was set up like a maze.

Telltale clicks on a keyboard said she was on her laptop. The dining room was set up as a study room with tables pushed against the walls instead of a table and chairs.

Not risking chance, Dylan palmed his Glock, using it to lead the way.

“What are you doing here, Samantha?” He lowered his weapon when he was sure the place was clear.

Samantha jumped to her feet, the shock of seeing him evident on her face. It took her a moment before she was able to answer. “Me? I could ask you the same thing, Dylan.” The accusation in Samantha’s voice fired at him as though he stood in front of an execution squad. A mix of panic and fear crossed her features as she sat ramrod straight. Her gaze froze on his gun.

Her fearful expression tugged at his heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He surveyed the area. “Is there anyone else here?”

“Not that I know of.” Her gaze darted to the front door and then back.

“What does that mean?”

“Did anyone follow you?” The suspicion in her eyes hit him harder than a shot of tequila for breakfast, with a similar burn in his chest.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” More accusations fired in her tone.

“Yes.” This wasn’t the greeting he’d expected.

“How can I trust you?”

“You don’t have to, sweetheart.” He had no intention of hurting her. Her panicked expression ate at his insides. What was she so afraid of? Or maybe the better question was, what had she done?

He took another step toward her so he could really examine her. With her pallor, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “But it’s me. And you know me.”

“How did you find this place?” She didn’t seem ready to concede anything.

“The internet. It wasn’t hard,” he said casually, trying to use his voice to calm her.

“If it was easy for you, then he can find me, too. I have to get out of here.” Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat.

Finally, he was getting somewhere. Someone had her seriously spooked. Dylan shot her an apologetic look.

“Who are you involved with? A boyfriend?”

Her head was already shaking.

“Then, tell me who’s looking for you and I can help.”

She didn’t respond. He needed to take another tack. Get her in the car for four hours, gain her trust and he’d get closer to finding the truth.

“I can see that you’re in some kind of trouble. What are you running from?”

Her lips clamped shut.

“Everyone’s worried. Come home with me and we’ll sort this out,” he offered, hoping he could appeal to her on a friendship level.

“No. It’s too risky. He’ll find me.” That same frightened-animal look was in her eyes.

“Who will?”

“Thomas Kramer.” She shivered involuntarily as she said his name.

“The Mason Ridge Abductor?” Stunned didn’t begin to describe his reaction. No way. Dylan checked her pupils for signs of drugs, even though the Samantha he knew would never do such a thing. Something had her acting cagey. He saw pure, unadulterated fear in her gaze. “He’s dead, sweetheart. A pile of ash. Remember? He can’t hurt you from where he is.”

She stood there, trembling, looking lost. Damn.

Dylan made a move to step forward, to comfort her.

Her body stiffened, so he froze.

“It’s not safe here. He’ll find me.”

“What are you talking about?” Dylan held his hands up in surrender, slowly, because he half feared she would bolt otherwise. “I’m moving to the couch to sit down so we can talk about this.”

He walked deliberately.

She moved to the front window, peering outside through the slats in the blinds. “He might’ve followed you.”

The look of panic on her face couldn’t be faked. Something had her completely rattled, but Thomas Kramer was dead.

“Sit down beside me and tell me what happened,” he said calmly.

“I have to get out of here.” Her voice shook with fear and her eyes pleaded with him. She stalked back to the desk and reached inside a drawer.

“Stop right there.” The last thing he needed was for her to do something desperate. Dylan ate the real estate between them in two quick strides and covered her hand, stopping her from raising it toward him. He ignored the fizz of attraction sizzling between them.

Her left fist was closed around an object. He turned her palm toward the ceiling, noticing her white-knuckle grip. “Open your hand slowly.”

She did, exposing a fistful of cash.

“What’s this for, Samantha?”

“Nothing. Take it and get out of here.”

“You’re trying to give me money to leave?”

“Whatever you want, take it. Just go.”

“Rebecca sent me.” If she wouldn’t talk to him based on their history, maybe he could get through to her by using her friend’s name.

“She shouldn’t have,” Samantha shot back. “This is no one’s business but mine.”

That didn’t work. She seemed even more agitated. Maybe he could appeal to her softer side. “How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t. I don’t even know myself and it’s too dangerous.”

Dylan took a step away from her, releasing her hand, breaking contact before he revealed his body’s reaction to her. Even then he felt the tension coiling inside his body. “Why not?”

“He’ll kill me and everyone I love.”

Chapter Two

“No one’s going to hurt you, Samantha. And especially not a man who’s already dead.” Dylan fished his phone from his front pocket and then paused with his thumb hovering over Brody’s number. “Your friends are worried. I need to call and let them know I found you.”

She shook her head fervently. “He’ll know. I don’t know how but he’ll figure it out if you do that. And then we’ll all be in danger again.”

“Does this have anything to do with the phone calls you received before you took off?” Dylan wouldn’t rule out the possibility someone was using her fear of the Mason Ridge Abductor to manipulate her.

A look of shock crossed her features. She quickly recovered, smoothing her open hand down her jeans.

“I already told you.” Her gaze darted around the room, no doubt looking for an escape route. “You don’t believe me.”

Frazzled, frightened, she had the disposition of a cornered animal. And since that rarely turned out well for the person who tried to capture it, Dylan put his hands up, keeping his cell in his hand, where she could see it. “Look, sweetheart, you’re safe. I’m here. Tell me exactly what’s going on so I can help you.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. But Thomas Kramer is coming.” Eyes wild, she bolted for the door.

Thomas Kramer was dead. Someone was trying to manipulate her by using her fear of the past. Dylan dropped his phone and caught her as she reached the front door. Whatever she’d gotten herself into was clearly more than she could handle. He bear-hugged her from behind and pulled her far enough away from the door that the handle was out of reach.

She kicked and screamed, and her foot connected with his groin.

Doubled over, he tightened his grip around her midsection as he took a few deep breaths to stave off blinding pain and nausea.

He’d almost felt sorry for her when she was stumbling over her words, trying to distract him so she could bolt. But experience had taught him innocent people didn’t try to run.

* * *

“BE STILL,” Dylan bit out curtly. His thick arms were like vise grips around her hips, and it was impossible not to notice the solid wall that was Dylan flush against her bottom. She couldn’t blame him for his words coming out harshly after she’d kicked him in the groin.

If she could loosen his grip, she might be able to break free and run. No matter how much she wanted to confide in Dylan, she couldn’t. The Mason Ridge Abductor had returned, attacked her in the parking lot of her office, and then her father had disappeared after confirming as much and telling her not to try to find him. He’d told her to hide and stay hidden until he could sort this mess out that had begun fifteen years ago. And even though Dylan didn’t know it, she was saving him, too. He didn’t need to get involved and she’d said too much already.

The door was so close. She stretched her fingers toward it. Too far.

Drawing from all her strength, she tensed her body and then jabbed her elbow into Dylan’s midsection. If he could find her, so could Kramer, and her father had said the Mason Ridge Abductor would use her to force him out of hiding.

On some level, she knew Kramer was a pile of ashes, but someone could be using his name to hide behind.

Dylan coughed, ground out a few choice words and then spun her around to face him. His fingers gripped the flesh on her shoulders tightly.

She couldn’t budge. He’d made sure of it.

“Make another move and I’ll ensure you regret it.” He’d bent down to her level. Penetrating clear green eyes glared at her.

This close, his face was all sharp angles and hard planes, with a severe jawline on a squared jaw, intelligent eyes. Good-looking didn’t begin to describe his features. He wasn’t a pretty boy. No, this poster child for strength and general level red-hotness had the rugged looks that came with knowing how to take care of himself. His tightly clipped sandy-brown hair reminded her he was ex-military. No way could she get away from him going toe to toe, even if she was close to his height at six foot. Growing up with three older brothers had taught her a thing or two about her own limitations.

“You’re hurting me,” she angled, hoping he’d slacken his grip enough for her to escape.

“I’m sorry about that. I loosen my hold and you’ll run for it. I need you right here. It’s me, Samantha. I’ve said this before but it’s worth repeating. You can talk to me.”

“Fine. Let me go and I promise not to do anything stupid.” Even if he was determined to get himself involved, she couldn’t allow it.

“And I’m supposed to believe you based on what? Your word?”

“Yes. You are.” Looking into those green eyes, seeing she wasn’t getting anywhere, Samantha decided to take another tack. If he was going to believe her, she’d have to tell him something concrete. And yet he wouldn’t believe her if she did. She could hardly believe it. “Look, I know how crazy this sounds, but Kramer is either reaching out from the grave or someone is pretending to be him.”

He shot her a look that had her wondering if he thought she was crazy. She hadn’t thought about how all this might look to an outsider until then. There was a hint of curiosity in his eyes, too.

“You have my word that I won’t try to run away from you, Dylan. Now let me go.” She jerked her shoulders, surprised when he loosened his grip.

“Tell me something, Samantha. Because right now you look guilty of something bad, something that has you on the run, and if I didn’t know you better, I’d be calling the cops.” As if for emphasis, he picked up his phone.

“No cops. Promise me.” She rubbed her shoulders to bring blood back to them, trying to figure out what she could say that wouldn’t implicate her father. She wanted to trust Dylan, but she couldn’t risk it. If he knew, he wouldn’t walk away. He wasn’t the type.

“Sorry if I hurt you.” He motioned toward the couch. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

Sharp green eyes stared at her. He’d been wild when they were young, and there was more than a hint of that same feral tendency in his features now. “We can do this one of two ways. You sit willingly. Or I tie you up until you tell me the truth. Your choice.”

She moved to the couch and plopped down. Anger boiled inside her. Everyone thought that the Mason Ridge Abductor was gone, but he wasn’t. And he was coming after her. He’d surprised her, then called and threatened her if she didn’t meet him after she got away.

Dylan glanced out the front window and then focused those intense greens on her. Eye contact wasn’t the best idea, because when he looked at her, her stomach flipped. Dylan was easy to look at. She wouldn’t deny an attraction sizzled under the surface, one that had been simmering since before high school. Even with his bad-boy reputation, she’d always known there was something good about him deep inside.

“I was careful not to leave a trail.” The blood was finally returning to her shoulders. Bruising would be the least of her problems.

“Your lack of a path helped narrow the search. You were somewhere within driving distance because you used your car. I also knew you’d want an internet connection. Austin’s your favorite city, so I took a chance. From there, all I had to do was figure out which house you’d rented.”

She’d been that transparent? So much for thinking she could hide. Frustration burned through her. Too bad she didn’t have the criminal tendencies of her mother’s side of the family.

“I’m truly sorry about earlier. You know I would never hurt you on purpose,” he said.

She did know. Dylan was a good guy.

“I’m going to ask you again. What’s going on?” His brow arched and he was examining her face as if her head was about to start spinning.

Could she risk telling Dylan anything else? He already looked ready to strap her into the first straitjacket he could find. And what if she told Dylan what she feared? That her father was somehow involved or at least covering for someone else that night Rebecca and Shane had gone missing fifteen years ago? Or that if she shared what she feared, Dylan would be in this as deeply as she was?

The crackle of a branch breaking sent both of them to the front window.

“Don’t let anyone see you.” Dylan pulled her down, his strong hands firmly on her hips.

In the street, the screech of tires sent her adrenaline into overdrive. “We can’t stay here.”

Dylan opened the curtain in the front window and cursed. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. You haven’t given me anything to work with yet.”

“I don’t know who I can trust anymore. All I know is this whole thing is bigger than we originally thought.” Kramer was believed to have acted alone. What if he hadn’t? What if others had been involved in the crime or the cover-up?

“What ‘thing,’ Samantha? What are you talking about?” He stared at her for a long moment.

Could she tell him? She wanted to talk to someone. The past four days had been terrifying alone. She shook her head.

“This is a college town. There are people everywhere, so the noise outside might be nothing.” Dylan’s voice came out in a whisper as he surveyed the area through the windows.

She had to admit, having Dylan with her steadied her fried nerves. “Do you really think I’m crazy? Or involved in something illegal?”

“No. But I’ve never seen you this scared.” Dylan held out his hand. “Come back to Mason Ridge with me and we’ll sort this out.”

“I can’t go home.” She didn’t take it.

“You can stay at my house.” His expression had her thinking he believed she needed to be locked up in one of those high-priced sanctuaries by the ocean rather than his place, but to his credit, he didn’t say it.

Even so, she dared to allow a small bubble of hope to expand, the first since this nightmare had begun a week ago.

Another crunch noise came from just outside the glass.

“Stay down.” His gaze ping-ponged from her to the window as he tightened his grip on the handle of his gun. His movements were assured, graceful.

Even with him there, Samantha couldn’t relax. Not when a man could reach out from the grave, as Kramer had. What if the guy really was dead and all logic said he was? What if someone else was involved? How big could this thing be?

The little bubble of hope burst. Despair pressed heavy on her chest.

“Several men are headed this way.” The concern in his voice was enough to fry what was left of her nerves. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I told you everything.”

“I asked this before and I’m going to ask it again. Are you involved in something illegal?”

“No.”

“Drugs?”

“That would be illegal.”

“Is someone forcing you to do something you don’t want to? Are they coming?”

“It’s not like that.”

Dylan scooped his cell off the floor next to her. “Obviously, there’s something else at work here. I don’t like this one bit.”

With him on her side, she might have a chance of fighting back. Grabbing money from her account and disappearing had been a knee-jerk reaction. She could see how that might make her look guilty of a crime.

“You need to get away from me before anyone sees you.” Samantha hated the panic in her voice—the panic that had been beating in her chest like a drum since this ordeal had begun. The person claiming to be Kramer had been clear. Involve anyone else and he’d hurt them and everyone they loved.

“Do you trust me?”

She looked into his sharp green eyes. God help her, but she did. Of course, there weren’t a lot of options at the moment. “Yes.”

“Then, let’s get out of here.” He tucked his cell in his duffel.

“How do you plan to do that?” she asked.

The crack of a bullet split the air.

Chapter Three

Before Samantha had time to argue, Dylan had her on the floor. He needed to find cover in order to put mass between the two of them and the shotgun blasts firing toward them. He urged Samantha forward, crawling on hands and knees toward the kitchen. The feel of a body like hers underneath him, especially the way hers fit his, gave him a thrill of sexual excitement, but right now he didn’t need his body reacting inappropriately. Nor did he need the distraction.

The three-foot crawl space between the fridge and the wall in the kitchen would offer some shield. Guiding her there, he followed. “Do everything I say.”

Her cobalt-blue eyes were wide when she nodded.

Time to move.

Dylan shouldered his duffel and entwined Samantha’s fingers in his, ignoring the pulse of electricity vibrating up his arm. His vehicle was parked two streets over. If they could make it out of the back of the house, circle around and cut across the street, they had a chance to break free.

He carefully zigzagged through the bushes along the path, hoping like hell they didn’t run into whoever was shooting at them. With any luck, the shooter would be inside the house by now.

The glint of metal shone between houses directly across the street. That was what he got for wishing.

Dylan squinted against the bright sun, tucked Samantha behind him and ran like hell, darting side to side as he crossed the street.

Halfway across, a bullet struck the center of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. The impact, equivalent to being hit with a rubber mallet, knocked him back. He stumbled a few steps before falling on his backside and then scrambling behind a car so he could catch his breath. The Kevlar he wore kept the slug from piercing his chest.

Samantha’s scream made the hair on his neck stand up. She obviously thought he’d been shot. And he had been. But it was okay.