The Baby Rescue

“A couple of guys interrupted our transport to the airport. I talked with Marshal McCall in St. Louis this morning. They have interrogated the three men involved in the wreck and run background checks. There doesn’t appear to be any connection to the criminal elements in St. Louis. The marshals are digging deeper to make sure the trio is exactly what they claim to be. We have to assume at this time they are what they say and proceed forward if we’re going to use Saunders’s contact in Denver.”

“Who are the people involved in the wreck?” Lisette kept her gaze trained on the cleft in Colton’s chin, chancing only an occasional glance at his eyes, which were a beautiful sky-blue—attention grabbing. I never call a man’s eyes “attention grabbing.” What in the world is going on here?

Colton zeroed in on her. “The two in the white truck are ranchers who were in St. Louis yesterday on business. The guy in the Mustang works at a hospital and was late for his shift.”

“Or so they say. With enough money and expertise a background and identity can be built. You all do it all the time.” Lisette lifted her gaze to his, as intense and direct as he was. She could play this game—she could see he was trying to exert his dominance over her early on in their partnership.

“We had him at a safe house in St. Louis—not the U.S. Marshals’ office. A limited amount of people knew about him even within the U.S. Marshals Service, so it’s not likely he was compromised.”

“Could Don Saunders have orchestrated an escape somehow?”

“Again not likely. It’s not as if he had access to a phone at the safe house or as if he ever left the place. The only time he made calls was to support the story that he got away. Those calls were monitored.”

“Cell phones are small and can be concealed,” Lisette said, aware that suddenly it was as if she and Colton were the only two in the office, that his supervisor was a bystander following their conversation. “If he wasn’t kept in a jail cell, he had some freedom at the house. I doubt they had eyes on him twenty-four hours a day.”

Colton shifted toward her, his large hands clasping the arms of the chair. “I was one of his guards that last day in St. Louis. He was thoroughly checked for a cell. I’ve been doing this for years. I know my job.” A grin flirted with the corners of his mouth for a few seconds before becoming full-fledged.

“But if he has been compromised in any way, our chance to find out more about this organization and catch the others involved will vanish. A smuggling ring like this can’t exist. Children are involved.” She hadn’t meant for the last sentence to come out so vehemently, but she’d never forget her first case with the FBI—a child abduction that didn’t end well. It left a mark on her that she’d never be able to erase, especially since her younger sister had died of SIDS when Lisette was a child. There had been a time she’d wanted a family—children. Now she found that focusing entirely on her career was safer for her emotionally. It was too hard for her to depend on others who could let her down.

Dead seriousness replaced his smile. Colton sat forward, closer to her. “I know exactly what’s at stake with this case.”

He snared her attention as though trying to read her mind. Silence ruled. Tension charged the air. Her voice had given her away. Had she revealed something else in her expression?

Marshal Benson coughed. “You have a drive ahead of you. Hash it out in the car. We’re lead on this case, Agent Sutton, but we value the FBI’s input.”

In other words, Marshal Colton Phillips would run the show. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t make her views known. She had six years of experience in the FBI, and before that, she’d been a police officer. “Who is Saunders’s contact in Denver? And is this going to help us?” Lisette dragged her gaze from Colton and directed her question to his boss.

Before the man could open his mouth, Colton answered, “That’s what we’re going to the safe house to find out.” He stood. “I’ll bring the car around front.”

He left his supervisor’s office without a backward glance toward Lisette. The atmosphere defused with his departure.

She’d heard Colton was a maverick who often got results by acting and thinking outside the box. She had serious misgivings about working with someone like that. She’d even considered asking her superior to assign another FBI agent when she’d heard who her partner would be. But she couldn’t walk away, not when children were involved. That overrode all misgivings she had about her partner for this case. Which left her working with the type of law enforcement officer she tried to steer clear of. Her mother had been like that, doing whatever it took to get the job done, and she’d ended up discredited. She resigned from the FBI not long after Lisette had graduated from the FBI Academy at Quantico. It was not a stellar way to start her career—the daughter of a disgraced agent who hadn’t backed up her partner and had been suspected of taking money from a crime scene.

She stiffened her spine. She would make the best of a bad situation and rise above any shortcoming Colton Phillips might have. Then she remembered something else she’d heard about the man: he got results so the U.S. Marshals Service tolerated him.

She wanted to be more than just tolerated. She wanted to prove not all Suttons were the same. She wasn’t anything like her mother.

“Agent Sutton, Marshal Phillips is a bit unorthodox, but he does get the job done. After you two get the rest of the information from Saunders, we can then decide the best way to proceed. My children are teenagers, but it wasn’t that long ago they were babies. One crime that bothers me more than anything is one against a child. We need to get the people behind this ring.”

Lisette rose, gripping the straps of her purse. “I totally agree. If Saunders has any info, we’ll get it out of him.”

Marshal Benson pushed to his feet and stretched his arm across the desk. “We don’t have a lot of time to play with here. According to Saunders, something is going down soon.”

Lisette shook his hand. “I understand. Good day.”

She took the stairs to the first floor and exited the building, scanning the cars for Colton. A honk sounded in the early morning, drawing her attention. The man climbed from a black Firebird—obviously not a U.S. Marshals Service’s vehicle. The highly polished car gleamed in the sunlight.

She approached him. “I’m surprised this Firebird isn’t red.”

“I thought about that, but I didn’t want to be too obvious. I’ve got to blend into traffic sometimes.” He started to round the front. “Let’s go.”

She watched him. “You want me to drive?”

A look of horror momentarily graced his face, then his expression evened out. “No way anyone else gets behind the wheel of my car.” He opened the passenger door. “I was being a gentleman.”

A flush seared her cheeks, and she stared at him over the top of the Firebird. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

“What is it?”

“A navy blue Ford SUV.” She gestured toward where it was parked in the lot nearby.

He chuckled. “That screams ‘federal agent.’ No, we’ll use my car.”

For a long moment she drilled her gaze into him. He didn’t waver but returned her stare. Then she heaved a sigh and skirted the rear to the Firebird. “And your car screams ‘I want to drag race.’”

“I haven’t tried that. Maybe I’ll take up that sport someday.”

She slid into the passenger seat, aware of the close interior in the Firebird. She should have insisted on driving them in her SUV, or at the very least following him.

He still held the door. She reached to close it, but he shut it instead. Then he grinned at her and came around to his side, his movements economical and fluid. He caught her staring out the windshield at him and gave her another cocky grin.

She refused to look away.

He settled behind the wheel and started the engine. “I promise you that before this assignment is over, I will show you what this baby can do.”

A male and his car. She rolled her eyes and peered out her side window. She’d been excited about the new assignment. It had the potential to prove to her superiors she wasn’t anything like her mother, but now she was having major doubts about her partner. This was going to be a long assignment.

TWO

Before putting the Firebird into Drive, Colton twisted toward Agent Lisette Sutton. “We need to get a few things straight right from the start.” He waited until she turned her head toward him, not one emotion visible on her face. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, curious to see what she would do. He hadn’t wanted to team up with an FBI agent, especially one he knew nothing about.

One of her eyebrows arched. “We’re in a no-parking zone.”

“I think it would be safer to talk about this without driving. The conversation needs our full attention.”

She released a long breath. “Then tell me before I grow old.”

“You and I may not perform our duties the same way, but in this case I am the lead. I just wanted to make sure you heard fully what my boss said about this being under the U.S. Marshals Service’s jurisdiction.”

“My hearing is perfectly fine.” Lisette Sutton fiddled with her glasses.

“Then I have the final say in how we operate. I have been a marshal for ten years with a high success rate. I know what to do.”

“I heard you the first time in Marshal Benson’s office,” she said with little inflection in her voice, her expression neutral.

“Good, then there should be no problems between us.”

“For your information, I won’t blindly follow anyone’s order.” She looked him squarely in the eye, anger piercing through him. “There are rules and procedures in place for a reason.”

Colton’s gut hardened as though preparing for a punch while his hands balled. “What have you heard about me?”

“I work with an FBI agent who was assigned to Miami at the same time you were. He told me you went into a house without a search warrant, jeopardizing the case.”

“But I saved the witness. There wasn’t any time to get a warrant. When it comes to people I’m protecting, I do what I must to keep them alive. That is my primary duty.” He threw the car into Drive and pulled out into the traffic.

His tight grip around the steering wheel made his hands ache after ten minutes. He loosened his hold. He’d had to grab the witness in the case she’d referred to because of a mess-up with the FBI. The agent for the Bureau had taken an eye off the witness, and he’d escaped because he was scared testifying put him in jeopardy. Colton wondered if she knew the whole story: that the agent responsible had lost his job over the mistake. In Lisette Sutton’s point of view Colton had to prove himself, but as far as Colton was concerned, she had to prove herself to him. He trusted no one, and especially not an officer who was inflexible. He’d learned that inflexibility could get a person killed.

The atmosphere in his car could freeze a person faster than a Nor’easter in the dead of winter. Colton kept his gaze trained on his surroundings but occasionally found himself slanting a look toward his partner. Lisette Sutton sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat, her head held high, emphasizing her long, slender neck. Her mouth set in a firm line disguised the fullness of her lips—not that he’d dwelled on that in his supervisor’s office or when he’d shared his opinion in the car earlier. But he had to admit her sea green eyes had drawn his attention over and over, even though they were hidden behind those brown-framed glasses she kept fidgeting with. This FBI agent was all business. Her bearing, right down to her blond hair, a deep golden shade, pulled back into a tight bun, shouted that fact to the world. Even her outfit—black pants with a matching suit coat and a plain white blouse—supported that impression.

Maybe, like him, she wasn’t too thrilled to be babysitting a criminal like Don Saunders. He understood the need to give deals to catch the big fish in a pond of scum, but it still bothered him when he dealt with ones like Saunders. His faith was the only thing that made this palatable. In the end Saunders would get his due. He would be held accountable for his actions with the Lord.

“How much farther is it?” Lisette Sutton asked in a husky voice that almost betrayed her businesslike demeanor.

“Another fifteen minutes. The safe house is out a ways—not a lot of neighbors to wonder what’s going on.”

“Also harder for Mr. Saunders to catch a ride somewhere.”

“True.”

“Who’s with him right now?” She shifted toward him, her posture not as tense as before.

And for some reason that made the confines of his car even smaller. His gut clenched at the same time his hands did on the steering wheel. “Marshals Janice Wallace and Neil Simms. The other on the team is Quinn Parker, who will be at the house later.”

He took the exit off Interstate 70. At the intersection of the off ramp and a country road, he came to a stop and made the mistake of glancing at her. His gaze collided with hers. A faint red colored her cheeks, and she turned away.

Her stiff carriage returned, her shoulders thrust back. The temperature in the car dropped even more. He made a right turn onto the two-lane highway, a wall of mountains on his left blanketed with snow. At least the roads were cleared.

“Is our destination up in the mountains?” She finally broke the silence a few miles down the road.

“No, at the foot of one. The area around here is beautiful and worth exploring in your free time. Have you had a chance to do much sightseeing?”

“No.”

“How long have you been in Denver?”

“Six months. How about you?”

“Two years.” About the extent he would stay in any one place. That was why he had applied for the open position in St. Louis. Colton was bummed that he didn’t get it. “How do you like Denver so far? Have you found a place to stay yet?” he asked, trying to play nice with the Ice Queen and learn about his new partner.

“When I first moved here, I lived in one of those extended-stay hotels. Hated it. I was out searching for a place every spare moment I had. I found a nice acceptable apartment in only a week.”

“I still haven’t gotten around to finding an apartment. I don’t mind the extended-stay hotel I’m at. It’s just a place to sleep. I’m looking to move to another assignment when this case is over with.” Why did he reveal that? He didn’t usually offer much personal information even to someone he was working with.

“During that week I felt like I lived out of my suitcase. Hotels always give me such a temporary feeling.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to that. It doesn’t bother me. No obligation on my part. No lease.” There was a time it had bothered him. But as a child, after his third move to yet another foster home, he’d begun to accept that would be his normalcy, and he’d better get used to it. So everywhere he lived he’d learned to accept it was only temporary, and eventually he embraced that way of life. Even as an adult he moved a lot, usually only staying at a post no more than a year or two. It was easier that way. He didn’t become invested in his coworkers’ lives. So much better when he left if he wasn’t too close to his coworkers.

Colton turned onto a gravel road still covered with snow that winded through some tall pines and aspens. He called the marshals in the cabin where Saunders was being kept. “I’m nearly there. I’m glad to see no fog.” He gave his team members the code with the last sentence to let them know that he hadn’t been compromised. “Is everything all right?”

“Just peachy. Nothing unusual has happened,” Marshal Janice Wallace said, her voice getting lower with each word. “Except this witness is driving me crazy. Otherwise, Neil and I are having a grand ole time.”

“The cavalry is here to rescue you two.” He peered through the trees as he approached a bend in the road. “In fact, I’m pulling up now.” He took the curve, coming upon a log cabin in a small clearing with various evergreens mixed in with deciduous trees surrounding the open space. A blanket of pristine snow stretched out from the safe house.

“Yeah, we saw you coming and cheered. I’m surprised you didn’t hear us from the main highway,” Marshal Wallace said in reference to the two hidden cameras posted at the beginning of the gravel road.

“Was that the noise I heard? Glad you cleared that up.” Chuckling, Colton disconnected.

“Did something happen?” Agent Sutton—no, at least in his thoughts she was Lisette—panned the area as she unbuckled her seat belt.

“No, other than Saunders. He has such a winning personality that it doesn’t take long for him to drive a person crazy with his complaints and whining. When we had that incident on the way to the airport in St. Louis, he griped the whole way that I was trying to kill him. Believe me, if I had wanted to, he would be dead now.”

Lisette’s intriguing green eyes widened.

He grinned. “Just kidding.”

She blinked and pushed the door open, her professional facade completely in place. “I know that.” Her hand went to her glasses to straighten them.

He made her nervous. That was her sign—adjusting her glasses.

Marshal Wallace swung the door open and stood in the entrance. The tall woman with short black hair smiled. “Nice to see you two. Come in.” She stepped to the side, introducing herself to Lisette as they shook hands.

Colton entered the cabin behind Lisette, who paused a few feet inside to scan the large room with a massive fireplace along the back wall, a kitchenette off to the right and a hallway that led to the single bedroom. He liked the defensible layout. There was only one way into the cabin with one window in the bedroom; there were none in the bathroom or kitchen and three in the living area. Off to the side he noticed the computer sitting with shots of various camera views of the terrain and road near the safe house.

“Where’s Saunders?”

Marshal Neil Simms swiveled around in the chair before the laptop. “Hi, I’m Neil, Lisette.” He smiled, then turned his attention to Colton. “Still sleeping. He was up late complaining of his digs. You should wake him, or he’ll be up late again tonight when Janice and I have to take over.”

“But he no doubt needs his beauty sleep. The trip here yesterday was a tiring, stressful one.” Colton pressed his lips together to keep from grinning.

The two marshals on the night shift started for the exit. “Quinn is on his way here,” Simms said, and then opened the front door. “We’ll be back this evening. Have fun.”

The echo of the door clicking shut filled the small cabin. Colton looked at Lisette, who prowled the perimeter, glancing out each window. “I’m surprised those two didn’t wake up Saunders right before we showed up.” He strode toward the hallway to check on their witness.

“You’re going to wake him?” Amusement laced Lisette’s voice.

“You know the adage about never waking up a sleeping baby? I think it applies in this case, too, but I want to check on him.”

Her light laughter drifted to him as he made his way down the short hallway, checking the bathroom before opening the door to the bedroom. Saunders stood at the small window peering out.

“If you’re thinking of escaping, I’m not sure you would fit through it. In fact, I know you wouldn’t.”

Saunders stiffened his shoulders and pivoted toward Colton. “I thought I was rid of you, that they would fire you for your incompetence yesterday.”

“That incompetence is what would have saved you if those guys had been assassins. You could be dead if I had waited around to chitchat with them.”

“How do you know they weren’t sent to kill me?”

“Because we set up your cover well and those guys are being checked out thoroughly. We won’t proceed if they don’t check out.”

“Then how in the world do I know if I’m safe here?” Saunders pursed his mouth, thinning his cheeks.

“Unless you called someone, no one knows you’re in Denver.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Colton spied Lisette coming down the hall.

“You do. And the other two marshals guarding me last night.” Saunders’s eyes flared. “And her.”

Colton gritted his teeth. Lord, where is that patience?

Lisette positioned herself to his left and slightly behind him. “Mr. Saunders, I’m from the FBI and here to ask you some questions. Please come into the living room.” Her voice held a hint of a Southern accent, warm and almost inviting, adding a certain charm to her words.

Saunders stared at her for a long moment. “At least this lady is nice to look at. Can’t say that about the other one.”

Tension whipped down Lisette’s length and flowed from her in waves. “I beg your pardon.” The glare she sent Saunders would put most people who were smart in their place.

But not their witness. He roared with laughter. “Sassy, too. I bet you’re a handful.”

“In the living room, Mr. Saunders,” she said in a tight, husky voice, her Southern drawl more pronounced, but nothing warm and inviting in the tone anymore.

Interesting. The more angry Lisette Sutton became, the more her Southern heritage came out. Colton let Saunders move into the hall where the man faced Lisette.

“What are you afraid of? That some man might think you’re pretty if you let your hair down, took off those ridiculous glasses and wore proper feminine clothes?”

Lisette drilled her sharp gaze into Saunders to the point he frowned and continued his trek into the living area without another word.

“Are you okay?” Colton almost felt indignant for her at the sneer in Saunders’s voice.

She lifted her chin. “Of course. I won’t let someone like him get to me.” She adjusted her brown-framed glasses and followed Saunders.

“I heard that, little missy,” Saunders said with a laugh.

She didn’t break stride but kept going into the main room. Colton trailed her, admiring how she walked—like a soldier going into battle.

Silently he applauded her bravado. He’d read she was a good interrogator; this was one of the reasons she was assigned to this case. Saunders had been playing games with the U.S. Marshals Service from the first moment he was arrested in the warehouse and told them he had information that could lead to the downfall of a large child-smuggling network. He either had to produce useful information, or he would go to jail per the agreement Saunders had signed. Colton hoped Lisette could draw the information out of him.

Lisette sat at the kitchen table that seated four and gestured for Saunders to take the chair across from her. Colton decided to stand back and assess the witness while she started the interview.

She opened the folder she’d brought concerning the case, her movements precise, deliberate. “I see here you claimed that Joe Delacorte’s death was the tip of the iceberg, as per your conversation with Marshals McCall and Summers, who talked with you last in St. Louis. So what are you implying?”

“Can’t you read?” Saunders flipped his hand at the folder. “It should be in there.”

“What was Delacorte messed up in?”

He came up from the chair and leaned across the table. “As I told the marshals in St. Louis, child smuggling from all over.”

“Please sit down,” she said in a calm, soft voice. “This can be an easy process or a long and difficult one that sends you to prison in the full population. You know how some criminals feel about crimes involving babies. It doesn’t sit well with them. There is no telling what could happen to you in jail, not to mention if your boss found out you had been talking to us to cut a deal.”

Saunders snorted but sank back in his chair.

Colton lounged against the kitchen counter to watch the match. She was good. His respect went up a notch. She glanced toward Colton, giving the witness time to think over what she had said. In the instant their gazes met, a connection linked them, more than this case. It held for a few seconds before she severed it and swung her attention back to Saunders.