Safe At Hawk's Landing

“Did she see any of the men well enough to make an ID?”

“Afraid not. She was pretty shook up. Said all she saw was a man’s back and the gun he was holding to her friend’s head.”

“You think we’re dealing with the same men or factions of a larger trafficking ring?”

“Hard to say at this point. Unfortunately there weren’t any surveillance cameras at the dance camp. There were two in the high-school parking lot, but the assailants shot them out.”

Of course they did. “None at the art studio, either,” Lucas said. Although he’d advise Ms. Reacher to install a security system if she reopened the studio. “How are the families holding up?”

“About like you’d expect,” Tradd said. “They’ve seen enough TV and news stories to speculate on what’s happening. None of it’s pretty.”

No, it wasn’t. Most likely they were being drugged and held somewhere until they could ship them out of the country or to perspective buyers. They probably had clients waiting.

His stomach knotted. Too many depraved people in the world, and men who’d pay for sex.

The girls who didn’t go to a buyer would suffer an equally harsh or worse fate. They’d be put in brothels, forced to work as prostitutes. Treated inhumanely. Beaten. Raped. Sometimes drugged, chained in a room so they couldn’t escape.

“Email me the files, crime-scene photos, information on the victims so I can compare.” Not that he thought the victims or their families had anything to do with this. This read like a professional hit. The ring targeted random groups that were vulnerable, easily accessible and fit a certain type and age range.

Otherwise, they would have also taken Charlotte Reacher.

Instead, they’d left her for dead.

* * *

THE GIRLS WERE SCREAMING. They needed her. She had to help them. Stop the bad men...

Charlotte blinked and tried to open her eyes, but she was so sleepy she couldn’t force them open. A few minutes ago, she’d heard someone talking. The nurse, she said her name was Haley. They were moving her to a room.

She’d been shot. Had a head injury. Had undergone surgery.

She was lucky, Haley said. She was alive.

But what about Evie, Adrian and Agnes, and Mae Lynn?

Tears seeped from her aching eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

A warm hand touched hers. Slid over it and squeezed.

She tensed, then realized it felt good. Comforting.

And she was cold. So cold inside...she shivered.

“Charlotte, my name is Special Agent Lucas Hawk.”

A man’s voice. Gruff. Almost tender. Another squeeze of her hand and she realized the hand belonged to the man speaking.

“I know you’ve been through hell today and you’re exhausted, but I need to talk to you. Need to ask you some questions.”

She blinked, wanting to see his face, but her eyelids slid closed again. The medication must be weighing her down, drawing her back to the darkness. She wanted to stay there, to be numb and forget, to silence the screams.

“I promise you I won’t stay long, but you were shot by some men who came into your art studio. They forced the students in your class to go with them.”

Her lungs squeezed for air. She suddenly couldn’t breathe. She clawed at the bedding, gasping. A machine beeped. Footsteps clattered, then a woman’s stern voice said:

“Sir, you’re upsetting her. You have to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said in a gruff tone. “I won’t stay long, but we need her help. The men who shot her kidnapped four teenagers. Time is of the essence. The kidnappers might be moving the girls out of the country as we speak.”

The woman mumbled something Charlotte couldn’t understand, but the agent’s words taunted her.

She had to do what she could to help find her students.

She moaned and reached for his hand. He took it and stroked her palm. The contact gave her hope, and she forced her eyes open.

But the room was dark. Completely dark.

“I need you to tell me anything you remember,” Special Agent Lucas Hawk said. “Even the smallest details might help—”

His words became garbled as panic seized Charlotte. She blinked furiously, but a cloudy haze of gray and black shrouded her vision. She couldn’t see his face.

Couldn’t see anything but an ominous black.

* * *

LUCAS STIFFENED. Something was wrong.

Charlotte gasped for a breath, her fingernails digging into his palm. “Help...”

He cradled her hand between both of his, tried to soothe her. “You’re safe now, Charlotte. You’re in the hospital and you’re going to be okay.” But those four teenagers weren’t.

Dear God, he hated to push her, but they had to act quickly. The men could be halfway across the state by now.

She pushed at the sheets and grabbed the bed rail with her free hand. “I...can’t see,” she whispered between choked breaths. “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”

Lucas’s pulse clamored. “You mean you can’t see the shooter? You were in the studio, weren’t you? Or did you and the girls hide?”

“No... I was there,” she cried, her chest heaving. “They stormed in and took them. I tried to save them, but the big one shot me and hit me in the head.”

She jerked her hand from his and pressed it to her temple. She winced when she discovered the bandage. Her forehead was bruised and discolored, a knot at her hairline, and she had five stitches.

He leaned over the bed and stroked her arm. “Charlotte, it’s okay, I know it was terrifying and you wanted to save your students. Just tell me what you saw and we can still save them.”

A sob escaped her, painful and heartbreaking. “I couldn’t stop them. I tried to.”

“Shh, I know you did. I saw the studio, bullets were everywhere.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, then stared up at him with terror-glazed eyes. “I did try, but I failed and they’re gone.”

“I’m sorry, that’s why I’m here. I need your help, though.”

“But I can’t see,” she cried again. “I can’t see anything.”

“You mean you didn’t get a good look at the men?”

She shook her head wildly. “No, I mean my vision is gone. I can’t see you or anything in the room.”

A cold chill swept over him. She’d suffered a head injury. The doctor hadn’t mentioned anything about her eyes, but it was possible...

“I’ll get help.” He rushed from the room and spotted the nurse. “Get the doctor. Now.”

His commanding tone made the woman’s eyes widen, then she raced to the nurses station. A second later, a page sounded over the intercom, then she hurried back toward him. He met her in the doorway.

Her disapproving look speared him. “I told you not to upset her.”

“It wasn’t me,” Lucas said between gritted teeth. “She says she lost her vision.”

Alarm flashed on the nurse’s face, and she rushed into the room. Charlotte was lying so still that it sent a bolt of fear through him.

The nurse gently touched Charlotte’s arm. “It’s Haley, your nurse, Ms. Reacher. The doctor is on his way.”

Charlotte turned her head toward the nurse, but the glazed expression in her eyes remained.

Then silent tears began to slide down her cheeks.

* * *

THE VAN THE men had put them in bounced over the ruts in the road and threw Evie against the side of the interior.

She bit back a groan of pain, blinked to stem the dizziness then wrestled with the zip ties around her wrists, but they wouldn’t budge. Hands bound behind their backs, Adrian and Agnes were curled together in the dark corner. Agnes was sobbing while Adrian talked in low whispers to comfort her. Mae Lynn was lying on her side, her eyes glazed in shock.

When those nasty men had thrown them in the van, Mae Lynn had been screaming. One of them had jammed a gun in her face and threatened to kill her. Mae Lynn had gone quiet and hadn’t moved or spoken since.

Terror gripped Evie’s chest in a vise, squeezing her lungs. Ms. Charlotte had been shot. Was she dead?

Tears crowded her throat. No... She couldn’t be. Ms. Charlotte was the only person in the world who cared about them. She helped Evie see that she might have a future. That bright colors and light existed. That she could paint beautiful pictures and express herself through art.

And that she was beautiful even though no family had wanted her as their child.

Agnes’s sobs bounced off the dark walls of the van, drawing Evie back to the situation. She had to stay tough. Do something to get them out of here.

But what?

There were four men, and they were all huge. She barely weighed ninety pounds.

And they had guns.

If she could grab one of those guns, she might be able to force them to release her and the others.

She knew how to shoot. That, she’d learned early on.

Everyone thought she was a weakling. But they were wrong.

She’d survived one foster home after another because she studied people. She didn’t know what these men wanted with them, but she had an idea.

A shudder coursed through her, and she squashed the thought.

She’d wait for the right moment, then she’d grab one of their guns. No one knew it, but she’d shot a man once. Foster daddy number five.

She’d had to, or be his bitch. That’s what he’d called it when he took the other fosters to bed.

She wasn’t going to be anybody’s bitch. She’d kill whoever tried to make her into one just like she’d shot that bastard, foster five.

Chapter Three

Lucas gritted his teeth as the nurse shoved him from the hospital room into the hallway. A doctor rushed in, and the nurse joined him, leaving Lucas watching through the small window in the door.

The nurse took Charlotte’s vitals while the doctor shined a light in Charlotte’s eyes. Silent sobs wracked the petite woman’s body, her fear palpable.

Was it possible the only witness to this damn trafficking had been blinded in the attack?

“Lucas?”

His brother’s voice dragged him from his somber thoughts.

“What happened? Is she all right?”

“I don’t know.” Lucas exhaled sharply. “She just woke up from surgery.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“I was trying to, but she got upset and the nurse made me leave.”

“She’s in shock,” Harrison said.

Lucas’s stomach knotted as the doctor tried to calm Charlotte. The nurse injected something into her IV. Probably a sedative.

Lucas folded his arms. “The head injury may have caused her to lose her vision.”

Harrison cursed. “What did the doctor say?”

“He’s examining her now,” Lucas said. “Before then she was pretty groggy. She didn’t say much except that she tried to save the girls, but the men opened fire.”

Damn, he didn’t like the picture that painted.

“I asked my deputy to notify the foster parents in person and to see if they’d noticed anyone suspicious hanging around their houses. Someone stalking the girls.”

“Good idea,” Lucas said. “Also, ask him if one of the foster parents seemed suspicious. We had a case once where a stepfather actually sold a girl for money to buy drugs.”

“Good God,” Harrison said. “What did the mother say when she found out?”

Lucas grimaced. “Hell, she was too strung out to even notice the girl was gone.” Lucas and his brothers were damn lucky to have had the family they’d grown up in. In spite of their troubles and trauma over losing Chrissy, his mother had hung in there. If only his father had...

“Find out if any of the girls had computers at their foster homes. If so, confiscate them and send them to the lab. It’s possible our kidnappers contacted the girls online. There, they can find out personal information about them, who their friends are, if they belong to a club or group, what their schedules are...”

“So they may be cyberstalking their victims, looking for groups to target?” Harrison said.

Lucas nodded. “Social media has opened up a new hunting ground for predators. People pretending to be someone they aren’t. Scam artists. Pedophiles.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

The doctor walked to the door, his expression concerned.

“How is she, Doctor?” Lucas asked.

The older man narrowed his eyes. “Are you family?”

“No.” Lucas flashed his FBI credentials and Harrison indicated his sheriff’s badge. “We’re investigating the shooting that put Ms. Reacher in here,” Lucas said.

Harrison cleared his throat. “We’re also trying to find the four girls abducted from Ms. Reacher’s studio. If she saw something, it’s imperative we speak to her ASAP.”

The doctor ran a hand through his thick gray hair. “I understand the situation, but under the circumstances, my patient needs rest. We have to run tests to determine the extent of her injuries. I’m calling in a specialist, ordering a CAT scan, MRI and full neurological.”

Lucas glanced through the window and saw Charlotte roll over in the bed to face the door. Compassion for her filled him. She’d obviously been traumatized and needed time to heal.

But every minute that passed meant the trafficking ring could be getting farther and farther away from Tumbleweed. And that any chance of rescuing Charlotte’s students would be lost.

* * *

CHARLOTTE FOUGHT DESPAIR as she lay in the dark. She needed to do something to help find her students, but she was so groggy from the medication they’d pumped through her that she could barely function.

The doctor said her blindness could be temporary.

Which meant it could also be permanent.

No, she had to hold out hope that she would see again. Even if she didn’t, she had to pull herself together and talk to that FBI agent. He wanted to find Evie and Mae Lynn and Agnes and Adrian.

She needed his help to do it more than she’d ever needed anyone in her life.

She hated being needy.

But the girls’ lives depended on her swallowing her pride, not wallowing in self-pity and fear.

Still, she was so tired she drifted to sleep. Sometime later, she woke up and realized she was in the midst of an MRI. She drifted in and out of consciousness through that procedure and the CAT scan, but couldn’t keep her eyes open as they wheeled her down the hall.

The nightmares of the day plagued her. The bullets pinging off the floor and wall around her. The girls’ terrified screams...

That group was the closest thing to family she’d had in a long time.

She had to fight her way back so she could find them. If she didn’t, she’d never forgive herself.

* * *

WHILE LUCAS AND Harrison waited on Charlotte to undergo tests, Lucas brought Harrison up-to-date on the abductions in Abilene and Waco.

“Sounds like the same group,” Harrison said. “Were the other victims foster kids?”

“No,” Lucas said. “One case involved dance students at a ballet camp, the other, cheerleaders from a high school. The ballet instructor was shot and died instantly. No witnesses. Girls at the ballet camp were from various parts of Texas.”

“So these guys aren’t targeting a specific type, just females between the ages of twelve and eighteen.”

Lucas nodded.

“Sick,” Harrison muttered.

“Definitely,” Lucas agreed. “Human trafficking is a widespread problem and has touched every major city in the US.” Although Tumbleweed was just a small town...

Harrison spread pictures of the missing girls on the table in the waiting room. “These photographs correspond with the names of the girls in the class scheduled at that time, but we should confirm with Charlotte that they were in fact the ones abducted.”

Lucas’s heart hammered as he studied the pictures. All young and vulnerable, mere teens.

Prime targets for predators.

Lucas noticed the nurse slip Charlotte back into her room. He walked over and peered through the window again. Charlotte was agitated, waving her hands.

The nurse rushed to the door, and Lucas braced himself for her to tell him to leave her alone. Instead, she motioned for him to come in.

“She wants to see you. I told her she should rest, but she insists it’s important.”

Lucas’s pulse jumped. Maybe she had a clue to help them find these bastards.

* * *

CHARLOTTE WAS SO exhausted that all she wanted to do was fade back into sleep and forget the horror that had happened today. Forget that four of her students were missing, and that she was blind.

The doctor said she needed time for the swelling to go down. The possibility she might need surgery existed, but they wouldn’t discuss that yet.

Footsteps sounded and the door to her room squeaked shut. Her lungs tightened.

“Haley? Doctor?”

“No, Charlotte, it’s me. Agent Lucas Hawk, Harrison’s brother.” The footsteps again, soft, as if he was controlling the sound, working to be quiet. “But you can call me Lucas.”

Call him Lucas? She didn’t even know him. Although she’d seen pictures of all the Hawk men, and Lucas was the most virile, handsome one of the bunch. He was also the most intimidating.

But his gruff voice was soothing, caring...almost sensual.

She thumbed her hand through her hair, self-conscious when what her fingers connected with was sticky, matted. Blood from her head wound must have soaked the strands. She probably looked a mess.

Not that she should care. But she had the sudden urge to see herself in a mirror, to know just how deep the injury was. To know if she’d have a bad scar.

A dark chuckle bubbled in her chest as she realized she might never be able to look in a mirror again.

Footsteps again, then the scent of the agent’s masculine aftershave wafted toward her. A musky odor that was pleasant, sensual, like his voice.

“You told the nurse that you wanted to see me? That it was important.” He paused. “What is it, Charlotte?”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she whispered.

His hand gently brushed her shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal today. I hate to bother you, but the longer we wait, the more time it gives these bastards to escape.”

“I know,” Charlotte said, battling tears. “They could be out of the country. We can’t let that happen.”

“No, we can’t,” Lucas said. “Can you tell me the names of the girls they abducted?”

Charlotte twisted the sheets in her hands. “Evie, she’s thirteen. Mae Lynn is fifteen. Agnes and Adrian are sisters. Agnes is sixteen and Adrian fourteen.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“All right,” he said quietly. “Just take your time and describe what happened. What you saw and heard.”

Charlotte sniffed. “We were in the middle of class. I should have had the door locked.” Guilt sucker punched her. “But it was midafternoon so I thought we were safe.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. This was not your fault. Tumbleweed is a small town. Most businesses don’t lock their doors during work hours,” Lucas said.

Charlotte latched on to his words. “But if I had—”

“Stop,” the agent said more firmly. “Again, it wasn’t your fault. Playing the what-if game won’t help. Let’s just focus on what the men looked like, anything they said. There were four of them?”

She stiffened. “How did you know that?”

“Because we believe they’re the same group who struck in Abilene and Waco. Could be different hired men, but connected.”

The implications he suggested sank in. “It’s an organized group?”

“Yes, they’re professionals,” Lucas said. “Four armed and masked men strike, and kidnap teenage girls. So far they haven’t left any witnesses behind.”

A chill of foreboding washed over Charlotte. She was lucky to have survived.

They’d probably thought she was dead.

“Can you describe any of the men?”

Charlotte swallowed back bile. The pain was making her nauseous.

He continued in a gruff voice. “Were they tall? Short? Big? Small?”

She struggled to see the men in her mind’s eye. “One was a big guy, tall, heavy, he seemed to be the leader. It happened so fast—we were painting, then the men rushed in. The leader ordered us not to move, then I realized they all had guns. I offered them money—”

“They didn’t want money,” Lucas said bluntly.

She shook her head. “The big one slammed his gun against my head. I fell and was dizzy, then the others started snatching the girls. They’re young, but they’ve been through hell and they’re tough.” Maybe that toughness would help them survive. “They screamed and fought, and tried to escape. I tried to stop them but...” Her voice trailed off, her throat clogging with tears.

“But they shot you,” Lucas said.

She nodded, swiping angrily at the tears that fell. “Then the leader hit me in the head again, and the others dragged the girls out the door. I crawled after them, but I was too late.”

* * *

THE IMAGE OF Charlotte’s bloody handprints on the floor taunted Lucas. She was a petite woman, but she’d made it to the door. Anger shot through him. He wanted to hurt these guys bad.

“You said you crawled to the door,” Lucas said. “Did you see what kind of vehicle they were driving?”

Charlotte inhaled a deep breath as if struggling to piece her memory together.

“Was it a car? An SUV? A van?”

“A van,” she whispered. “Black. Tinted windows.”

Lucas’s pulse jumped. The teacher in Waco had also mentioned a black van. “A minivan or full-size?”

“Cargo,” Charlotte said in a pained voice.

“That’s good, Charlotte. How about a license plate?”

Her brows furrowed together, the bandage on her forehead stark against her ivory skin. “I didn’t see a tag.”

“Was there any writing or a logo on the side?”

“I don’t think so.” Her face crumpled. “It happened so fast...”

“You did good, Charlotte.” Hopefully she’d remember more as time passed. “Think about the men now. Did any of them have any distinguishing marks? A mustache or goatee? Scar? Tattoo?”

This time she pressed both hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. “The big one, the leader, had a tattoo on his hand. A snake.” She paused. “His face was covered with a mask, but I think there was some kind of tattoo on his neck, too. It looked like a bolt of lightning.”

“Good work, Charlotte. These details could be helpful.”

He quickly texted the analyst at the Bureau the information. Keenan Hart was thirty, smart, and obsessive about details.

She quickly responded with a return text.

Black van reported in the Waco kidnapping. Authorities already on the look for it. Researching tattoos now.

When he looked up, Charlotte’s eyes were closing. Sensing she was about to fade again, he hurried to ask his last question. “One more thing, Charlotte.”

She moaned softly. “Hmm?”

“Did all of the men speak English or did one of them speak another language?”

She twisted her head toward him as if she could see him, but the blankness glazed her eyes again. “The leader was really the only one who talked. He spoke English.”

“Did he have an accent?”

She frowned. “I don’t think so. Why? Do you think they’re foreign?”

His gut tightened. He’d suspected Columbian or Eastern European. But without witnesses to the other kidnappings, that was a guess.

His phone beeped with a text. Harrison.

Black cargo van spotted outside Tumbleweed at an abandoned warehouse. Meet me downstairs and we’ll check it out.

Hope made Lucas’s adrenaline spike, and he placed his hand over Charlotte’s. Her hand was small and delicate, and her skin felt soft, feminine.

Thankfully, she was tougher than she looked.

“Charlotte, I may have a lead on that van. Harrison and I are going to check it out. Get some rest.”

She nodded weakly although she was already drifting asleep.

He smiled at her, then sadly realized that even if she was awake, she couldn’t see him. The thought bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

All the more reason he’d track down these sons of bitches and put them away.