Midnight Abduction

Pain throbbed at the base of his head in rhythm with his racing heart rate.

“Then it’s a good thing I came into town for my parents’ surprise wedding anniversary.” The hardened exterior she’d hidden behind the moment she’d stepped into his daughter’s hospital room cracked as one corner of her mouth lifted into a smile. She put the SUV back in gear and pulled into traffic. “There’s a safe house the FBI has secured outside of town. You and Olivia can stay there while I collect your bodiless friend from the fireplace. After that, our forensics unit can run dental and DNA for an identification and hopefully trace the victim back to the kidnapper. If he wants the evidence so badly, there’s a reason. I’m going to find out what that reason is so we can get your son back.”

Water and snow kicked up alongside the SUV as they headed out of the city, Main Street passing in a blur. In this quiet, Smokey Mountain town of less than 20,000 residents, there wasn’t much in the way of scandal and crime, but when it hit, it hit hard and left a wake of grief behind. Plowed streets disappeared under a new layer of snow, the trees growing thicker as they headed southeast along the highway. Oliva’s soft snores and the high-pitched clearing of slush beneath the tires coaxed him to relax, but he couldn’t ignore the strained silence between him and the woman who’d amazingly put herself in harm’s way for his daughter. “Thank you for taking the case. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No need to thank me.” Thin lines around her eyes deepened as though she was in the middle of an internal battle of some kind. “This is my job. This is what I’m trained for.”

Was that all this was to her? A job? His gut clenched. He should’ve known better; should’ve realized reaching out to her wasn’t going to change anything. He should’ve had enough sense to let the past die, but he hadn’t been able to stop the loop of what-ifs since that morning he’d woken alone in his bed. Until he caught sight of the stain of blood pooling on her slacks. Benning jerked forward in his seat. Hell. She’d gotten shot, her wound had been bleeding this entire time and she’d kept it to herself. “Damn it, Ana, you’re hurt. Pull over.”

“I said I’m fine. It’s been six hours since your son was taken. If we get stuck out here, we’re not finding Owen before the deadline.” The muscles along her throat worked to swallow. Her left arm hung limp at her side, her free hand gripped so tight around the steering wheel her knuckles threatened to split the translucent skin. “Besides, I’ve survived a lot worse than a bullet wound. Tell me about Owen.”

A lot worse? What the hell did that mean?

Hesitation gripped him hard, but he couldn’t argue with her logic. Every minute they were on the run was another minute his son didn’t have. “He hates peanut butter. Won’t go near the stuff. All he wants to do is sit on his tablet and watch those stupid videos online of other kids playing with toys, but I let him because it makes him happy.” Adrenaline from the shootout at the hospital drained from his veins the longer he talked about Owen. “The kid can’t go anywhere without the blanket I bought for him while Lilly was pregnant with them. Sleeps with it every night, takes it with him wherever he goes. Except school. That’s where I had to draw the line.”

That damn blanket was still right where Owen had left it in the middle of the living room floor during the abduction. His son must’ve dropped it when the kidnapper had rushed him out the door. Only now Benning wished he would’ve brought it with him, had something to hold on to of his son’s. A minute passed, maybe more.

“I’m sorry about Lilly. I wanted to…reach out, but I wasn’t sure after what’d happened between us…” She cleared her throat, redirected her attention out the driver-side window. “Has it been hard? Not having her around?”

He let her words settle, focusing on the topic of his late wife.

“At first.” He couldn’t really remember single moments of the first few months of the twins’ lives. It’d been a blur of diaper changes and spit up, of having to take a leave of absence until he’d found the right nanny to take over, of trying to make sense of being a single father. Of trying to forget about the rookie federal agent who’d extracted herself from his life as quickly as she’d appeared. He studied the snow as it melted against the hood of the SUV. “My entire world got turned upside down. I had to start thinking of things like formula temperature, not being able to sleep for more than an hour at a time and which diapers worked better for girls compared to boys. To be honest, I still don’t know what I’m doing or if I’m making the right choices for them.” He scratched at the spot of dried mud on his jeans as heat flared into his neck and face. “Guess I should be grateful I got to do any of that stuff… Lilly didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Sincerity laced her words. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s okay.” He’d healed from that wound a long time ago. “Lilly and I both knew what we were getting ourselves into, and we’d both accepted the possibility that we might not be able to make it work. We agreed what’d happened between us was a mistake, but I can’t say I regret what came out of it. I wouldn’t have Owen or Olivia if it wasn’t for her.” He twisted toward Olivia. “What about you? Got someone waiting for you when you head back to Knoxville?”

The idea she’d found happiness with another man—someone other than him—built pressure behind his sternum, which didn’t make sense. She’d been the one to drive the wedge between them. What she did with her life after that shouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but there she’d been, always emerging when he failed to distract himself or had a few minutes alone.

“No. The cases I work, the things I’ve seen…” Ana shifted in her seat, flinched against an invisible pain he couldn’t see. She slowed the SUV on approach to one of the side roads off the highway up ahead. She turned that hazel gaze onto him for a moment as she maneuvered the vehicle up the long, winding drive to a cabin set a little less than an eighth of a mile back on the property. In an instant he was the man completely smitten with the rookie fresh from Quantico who’d been working her first missing persons case in Sevierville. “It’s impossible to find the light when I have to spend all my time walking through the dark.”

Chapter Three

Trees surrounded the property from every side, cutting them off from civilization. Ana climbed the short set of stairs leading up to a covered porch, old wood protesting under her boots. Nobody would be able to find them out here, and with the Smokey Mountains interfering with cell signals and transmitters, she, Benning and Olivia would be completely on their own.

Using the key she’d been given by Director Pembrook before leaving Knoxville, she pushed her way inside. Met with a spacious living room, pale stone and open ceilings, she dropped her duffel at her feet. The alarm panel to her right screamed for attention. She keyed in the code, also provided by the director, and moved to shed her coat. Pain registered as she pulled the heavy fabric from her shoulders, her T-shirt crusted to the wound. Securing the property—that was all that mattered right now. Then she could worry about digging the bullet from her side and recovering the evidence Benning had removed off that construction site. Heat brushed across her arms and neck as Benning carried his still-sedated daughter and her IV through the door. “You can put Olivia in one of the bedrooms over here. The fridge is fully stocked if you’re hungry. I’ll have someone on my team check in with her doctor about the head trauma protocol.”

The girl had lost a lot of color in her face, her elvish features more gray now. Abducted, hospitalized, shot at. Ana could only imagine the nightmares coming when Olivia drifted off to sleep, and her heart lurched in her chest. To go through so much pain, at such a young age… It’d stay with her the rest of her life. Just as it’d stayed with Ana since she was that age.

But she had the chance to make sure that pain didn’t tear Benning’s family apart as it had her own.

“Thanks.” He moved past her, the muscles along his neck and back flexing with every step as he headed around the short wall separating the entryway from the hallway. Smells of cinnamon and apples filled the space, but it would take a lot more than a few air fresheners to clear Benning’s naturally intoxicating scent from her lungs. She’d been wrapped in a protective bubble with him for the past two hours inside the SUV. She wasn’t sure if she could ever get him out from under her skin, but she’d keep her distance. His son’s life depended on it.

Infierno. She forced herself to focus on the injury, peeling back the thin fabric of her T-shirt. To prove he didn’t have this gripping hold over her. The bleeding had slowed, but the risk of infection out here was high. They were miles from any hospital, and with the bullet still inside, every move on her part only caused more damage. She had to secure the perimeter before arming the alarm system, then she could worry about the hole in her side. Sliding one arm back into her coat, she hissed as the pain increased.

“Where are you going?” That voice. His voice. Even after all these years, it hiked her pulse higher and heated her insides. How was that possible? She’d buried her feelings for him a long time ago. She’d moved on, healed. Four words out of his mouth shouldn’t leave her wanting more.

“I need to make sure the security measures are up and running.” A wide expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows revealed miles of wilderness, mountains and snow. If anyone had tracked them here, those trees would be the perfect cover, but safeguards had been put in place once the FBI had seized the cabin from its last owner. Cameras, motion-activated lights, heat sensors. All of it could’ve been compromised over the past few weeks of heavy snowfall. She’d check every single one of them before leaving Benning and Olivia on their own. They would be safe here, but the tension tightening the tendons between her neck and shoulders hadn’t lessened. It was one thing to come back to Sevierville to find a missing boy. It was another to hole up in a safe house with a former fling for as long as it took to find that boy. More than that, she needed distance, needed to clear her head—of him. Dropping the magazine from her weapon, she counted her remaining rounds and slammed it back into place. She holstered her gun. “Shouldn’t take too long. I’ll brief my boss while I’m out. I should be able to get a team to the scene at your house in the next hour or so.”

“Ana, wait.” Her name whispered from his mouth, but she couldn’t look up at him, couldn’t allow him to see the battle she forged to keep her expression smooth. “I need you to understand something.”

Six words. That was all it took for that small glimmer of hope she’d held on to to burn through her, but she couldn’t afford to give it oxygen. It infiltrated the invisible barrier she’d built over the course of the past seven years, uninvited, and threatened to break through her control. Their relationship—however powerful it’d been—was over. She’d made sure of that when she’d transferred back to Washington, DC, without telling him.

“My kids are all I have, and I will do whatever it takes to protect them and to get my son back.” One step. Two. He shortened the space between them until that hint of pine teased her senses again. “Even if that means throwing a wrench in the FBI’s investigation.”

What the hell did that mean?

“You requested me to work this case, Benning, to recover your son. That’s exactly what I’m going to do, but if you want the person who took him to pay for what they’ve done, you’re going to have to trust me.” Turning toward the front door, she huddled inside her coat to head back out into the cold. Where she belonged, an outsider looking in. Not with Benning. Not with his daughter. This was just another case. Once upon a time, they’d talked about having a family of their own, but this one wasn’t hers. They never would be. She’d meant every word during the drive out here. She’d dedicated her life and her career to finding the missing and that decision had ended their relationship. Attachment to each and every victim and their families was only a distraction to that cause. She’d learned that the hard way. Seven years ago she’d let those emotions get the best of her. She’d made a mistake, and a victim had paid the price. “You should get some rest. You and Olivia have been through a lot.”

A wave of dizziness directed her shoulder into the nearest wall.

“You’re not going anywhere.” A strong hand threaded between her arm and the uninjured side of her rib cage and spun her into a hardened wall of muscle. She pressed against his chest, but Benning’s massive body wouldn’t budge. He’d put on more muscle over the years, the ridges and valleys fighting to escape his long-sleeve T-shirt. She imagined it’d partly been due to the fact he lived on the outskirts of town, on the property he’d inherited after his parents passed away. Calluses on his palms spoke of working the land with his bare hands. He was so much bigger than she was at over six feet; stronger, too, but he’d never used that strength to intimidate her. It wasn’t part of his genetic makeup. He released his hold on her, giving her a chance to retreat, but she was paralyzed. Frozen in place with him so close. “You’re bleeding through your coat.”

“Comes with the territory of getting shot.” Pain lightened through her nerve endings as though reminding her she had yet to pull the slug from her side. Right. With the rush of adrenaline from the shootout and every cell she owned tuned to every cell in his, her body’s priority had been pushed to the back of her mind. Then again, she wouldn’t be able to do her job if she bled out in the middle of the safe house.

He maneuvered her toward the dining room table. “You got a first-aid kit somewhere in this place?”

“Should be under the kitchen sink.” She pulled one of the chairs away from the table and collapsed into the seat, hand clamped to her side. Sweat slid down her spine, her heart pounding at her temples. It’d been two hours since she’d been shot. Looked like her body had decided it wasn’t going to be ignored any longer.

In seconds Benning returned with the red-and-white box, set the case on the table and settled into the chair beside hers. “Get rid of the shirt.”

“I can stitch myself.” She reached for the needle and thread inside the kit.

“I know you can, but you took that bullet for me and Olivia.” He took the supplies from her hand. “The least I can do is help get it out of you before you lose consciousness.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” At this point she wasn’t sure she cared.

“Owen needed stitches last year after running headfirst into that old fireplace on our property I should’ve knocked down years ago. My sewing skills seemed good enough for him.” Cold worked across her skin as he cleaned away the excess blood with alcohol pads in efficient strokes.

“Do six-year-olds usually have strong opinions about head wounds?” she asked.

“He was more concerned about the fact the gash would leave a scar.” Silence descended between them, every move made, every brush of his fingers against her skin, every breath he took, pinging on her radar. Loose strands of hair hid his face, but she didn’t have to see him to know what was going through his head right now. She’d memorized his tells a long time ago. “Why did you come back here?”

“You don’t remember? You requested me to work this investigation.” She studied the deep lines set around his mouth. Not much had changed about him over the years. He was still handsome as ever, but there was a heaviness in the set of his eyes now. The same man she’d left behind sat mere inches away, but the past few years had left him weathered, battle torn. Rugged. He’d taken on the sole responsibility of raising his children and keeping his inspection business afloat. She couldn’t imagine the amount of pressure that’d been thrust onto his shoulders practically overnight when he’d lost Lilly and ended up with two small newborns to care for alone. But the way he was looking at her now, the way her body responded to his touch… It was just the two of them. The investigation, their shared past, it all fled to the back of her mind. “Or did the man who broke into your house hit you harder than you thought?”

“You could’ve handed it off to one of the other agents on your team. The FBI has an entire division dedicated to this kind of thing.” Benning discarded the bloodied wipes, then opened a fresh package and cleaned the oversize tweezers he’d set out a few minutes ago. Standing, he unbuckled his belt, bringing her attention to those powerful thighs wrapped in denim. “But you took this assignment anyway.” He handed her his belt. “Here, bite down on this.”

Ana clenched the leather between her teeth as he pried at the edges of the wound with the head of the tweezers. She forced herself to keep her body relaxed, but the pain got the best of her after a few seconds. Ana screamed against the fire scorching through her side as he fished the bullet out of her. In seconds Benning discarded the slug onto the kitchen table. She shut down the primal urge to lean just a bit closer, to touch him for some warped sense of comfort, and spit out the belt.

“Does it matter?” Deep down she knew the answer. Why she’d taken the case when she could’ve pushed it off onto another agent. It had nothing to do with redemption. “Finding victims is what I’ve been trained for, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get your son back.”

He nodded, threading the needle from the kit. After stitching the edges of her injury together in quick rows, he taped a fresh piece of gauze to her side and cleaned up the bloody mess she’d left behind. He stood over her. Bigger, more intimidating than he’d been a minute ago. “I know you will. Because if you can’t, the bastard who took Owen is going to wish he’d killed me last night.”

HE SMOOTHED THE backs of his knuckles across Olivia’s forehead. The swelling where she’d hit her head—presumably when she’d jumped or been pushed from the kidnapper’s SUV—had gone down, but she was still fighting against the sedatives the doctor had given her. Red flannel and pale bedding surrounded her small form on the queen-size bed. The saline bag attached to her IV had been emptied within the last hour, and he carefully unscrewed the connection, then wrapped her hand—needle and all—with gauze at the direction of her doctor’s message. With only two beds in the massive cabin, he and Olivia would be bunking together, but he couldn’t sleep. Not with Owen still out there. Alone. Afraid. His eyes burned as thoughts of how this investigation could end filled his head. If Benning handed over the skull he’d found in that building, what were the chances his son’s kidnapper would let Owen go free? What would stop them from ripping Olivia’s brother from her life?

“Can’t sleep?” Her voice slid through him, stretching into the deepest parts of his mind to chase back the uncertainty clawing at him from inside. Ana’s boots echoed off the hardwood floor as she closed the distance between her and the end of the bed. She’d gotten rid of the stained clothing, her shoulder holster and weapon stark against her white T-shirt, and in an instant, he had his answer. Ana. Ana would stop them from tearing his family apart. Just as she stopped so many others. She studied Olivia in the bed, then handed him a steaming mug of dark liquid.

“She’s hogging the bed.” The ceramic burned the oversensitized skin of his palms, but he only held the mug tighter. To keep him in the moment, to feel the pain. To remind himself that no matter how she still might affect his biological reactions, Ana was here to work this case and nothing more. He took a sip of his coffee. Decaf. “Unless you’re willing to share?”

The idea drilled down through his core, eliciting too many tempting visuals.

“I think you felt me up enough getting the bullet out of my side.” Her smile—the one he hadn’t been able to forget after all these years—flashed wide, and his nerve endings caught fire. This right here. This was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her in the first place. The quick banter, her jokes. No matter how dark the situation, she’d always had the ability to lighten the mood, and the hollowness that’d carved straight through him the moment he’d learned she’d left him ebbed for the first time in years. Maneuvering around to his side of the bed, she pulled up a chair. The lamp beside his daughter’s bed reflected the natural sheen of Ana’s long, dark hair as she rested her heels on the edge of the mattress beside his. Would it still be as soft as he remembered? “I briefed TCD on the latest developments of the case. The director is sending two agents to your property to oversee processing the crime scene. Good agents, who know what they’re doing. With any luck, they’ll have something we can use to identify the man who took your son and where he’s keeping Owen.”

He didn’t have to look at his wrist to see how many hours were left until the deadline the kidnappers had given him. It was as though the countdown clock had become part of his consciousness. Always there. Always ticking off the seconds one by one. Owen had been taken close to nine hours ago. The man who’d broken into his house had given him twenty-four to hand over the skull and any other evidence he’d uncovered before his son paid the price for his mistake. Would the agents sent by Tactical Crime Division be able to process the scene at his house before time ran out?

That all-too-familiar sense of instability rocked through him.

“I need to hand over the evidence.” Benning shoved to his feet, his entire body buzzing with the need to take action. He should be out there looking for his son, doing whatever it took. Not holed up in some safe house imagining all the ways this investigation could go wrong. Placing the coffee mug on a side table, he scraped his fingernails across his scalp, shoulder-length hair caught between his fingers. Long stretches of trees and mountains on the other side of the massive floor-to-ceiling wall of windows increased the isolation growing inside. The sun had started dipping behind the Smokey Mountains. They were running out of time. Everything—the kidnapping, the shooting—it was all on him. “None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t started looking into Britland Construction. I should’ve left it alone. I’m the one who’s supposed to be responsible for him. I promised him I would always keep him safe, and now Owen’s out there in the hands of a possible killer because I wanted to play detective.”

“You and I both know once you hand over that evidence, the person responsible for taking your son won’t let you or your family walk away. You’re too much of a risk.” Her voice dipped to soothe the rough edges of anxiety tearing him apart from the inside. Movement registered from behind, and he turned to find her setting her own mug on the end table beside the bed. She closed the empty space between them without a single sound, taking special care not to wake Olivia. She motioned toward the bed with the crown of her head, but he couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t ignore the sudden shift in her expression. “Do you see that beautiful little girl there? She’s alive because of you, Benning. You protected her from getting shot in that parking lot, and you tackled me to the floor in her room before the shooter could take me out. Neither of us would be here if it weren’t for you.”

She was right. Turning over the evidence wouldn’t guarantee Owen’s release, but his insecurity—the need for action—pricked at the back of his neck. “I want to be the one out there, looking for him.”

“I know, and I know it doesn’t feel like you’re doing much, but I promise you, you are exactly where you need to be.” Raising her hand, she settled it on his forearm. Heat and electricity coiled together in a dangerous combination that traveled down his spine. Tantalizing hints of her perfume nudged at the raw memories he’d tried to forget, and it took everything inside him not to give in. “We’re going to get your son back. Together.”