Читать книгу Her Christmas Hero - Elle James - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“I was right. Great, just great,” Garrett said under his breath, cradling a sobbing Molly in his arms.

He rocked her slightly. She tucked her head against his shoulder and gripped his neck, her little fingers digging into his hair. He held her tighter while his narrowed gaze scrutinized the alley behind his house. A chill bit through the night, and Molly shivered in his arms. He needed to get them both inside and warm, but not in the place he’d never called home.

Another thirty seconds passed. No movement. The shooter probably didn’t have an accomplice, but he couldn’t assume anything. Assumptions got people dead.

A quick in and out. That was all he needed.

He led Laurel into the backyard of the house James McCallister had purchased on Garrett’s behalf and closed the gate. He wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. His time in Trouble had ended the moment he’d tackled Laurel to the ground.

But he needed his go-bag and a few supplies. On his own, it wouldn’t have mattered. He shifted Molly’s weight in his arms. These two needed more shelter than to camp out in the West Texas desert in December.

Molly clung to him tightly. He rubbed her back and his heart shifted in his chest. God, so familiar. The memories of his daughter, Ella, flooded back. Along with the pain. He couldn’t let the past overcome him. Not with these two needing him. He led them to the wood stack.

“Give me a minute,” he whispered. “Stay out of sight, and I’ll be right back.”

He tried to pass Molly to Laurel, but the little girl whimpered and gripped him even tighter.

“It’s okay, sugar. Your aunt Laurel will take good care of you.”

With one last pat, he handed Molly to Laurel, his arms feeling strangely empty without the girl’s weight. Laurel settled her niece in her arms, her expression pained. He understood. “She’s just afraid,” he said.

“I know, and I haven’t protected her.” Laurel hunkered down behind the woodpile. She pulled out her pistol. “I won’t fail again.”

Laurel McCallister had grit, that was for sure. He liked that about her. “I’ll be back soon.”

He sped across the backyard, slipped the key into the lock and did a quick sweep of the house, eyeing any telling details. He couldn’t leave a trace behind. Nothing to lead any unwelcome visitors to his small cattle ranch in the Guadalupes or to his stashed money and vehicle.

Garrett pressed a familiar number on his phone.

“Sheriff? What happened? Practically the whole town is calling me.” Deputy Keller’s voice shook a bit.

“Old man McCreary’s not putting a posse together, right?” Garrett had a few old-timers in this town who thought they lived in the 1800s. This part of Texas could still be wild, but not that wild.

“I talked his poker buddies out of encouraging him,” Keller said. “It’s weird ordering my old high school principal around.”

Garrett pocketed a notebook and a receipt or two, then headed straight for his bedroom. “Look, Keller, I’ll be incommunicado tracking this guy. I don’t want to shoot anyone by mistake. Keep them indoors.”

“You need me, Sheriff?”

“Man the phones and keep your eyes out for strangers, Deputy. Don’t go after them, Keller. Just call me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Garrett ended the call. If the men following Laurel and Molly had a mission, his town was safe. Assassins tended to have singular focus. He probably wasn’t the target, except as an opportunity. Still, Ivy had known his name. She’d said he was right. He couldn’t be certain how much of his identity had been compromised.

If anyone had associated Derek Bradley with Garrett Galloway before today, he’d already be dead. He might still have surprise on his side, but he couldn’t count on it. And if he’d been right...well, that was all fine. It didn’t make him feel any better. There was a traitor in the agency, and he didn’t know who. Ivy’s message hadn’t identified the perp.

Garrett grabbed his go-bag from the closet, then opened a drawer in his thrift-store dresser. He eased out an old, faded photo from beneath the drawer liner.

“It’ll be over soon.” He glanced at the images he’d stared at for a good two hours after his shift earlier. Hell, it was almost Christmas.

Tomboy that she’d been, his daughter, Ella, would have been after him about a new football or a basketball hoop, while Lisa would’ve rolled her eyes and wondered when her daughter might want the princess dress—or any dress, for that matter. His throat tightened. He’d never know what kind of woman Ella would have become. Her life had ended before it had begun.

Garrett missed them so much. Every single day. He’d survived the injuries from the explosion for one reason—to make whoever had murdered his family pay. He wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved his goal. He’d promised them. He’d promised himself.

He ground his teeth and stuffed the photo into the pocket of his bag. The perps should already be dead. He and James had failed for eighteen months and now...what the hell had happened? Now James’s daughter Ivy had paid the ultimate price. And Laurel was on the run.

James was... Who knew where his mentor was?

The squeak of the screen door ricocheted through the house. He’d been inside only a few minutes. He slipped his gun from his shoulder holster and rounded into the hall, weapon ready.

Laurel stilled, Molly in her arms. “She has to go to the bathroom,” she said with a grimace.

“Hurry,” Garrett muttered, pointing toward his bedroom. “We can’t stay. I wore my uniform and badge tonight. If they saw it, they’ll find this place all too easily.”

Laurel scurried into his room and Garrett headed to the kitchen. By the time they returned, he’d stuffed a few groceries into a sack. “Let’s go.”

Gripping his weapon, he led them outside. The door’s creak intruded on the night, clashing with the winter quiet. Pale light bathed the yard in shadows. A gust of December wind bit against Garrett’s cheeks. A tree limb shuddered.

He scanned the hiding places, but saw no movement, save the wind.

Still, he couldn’t guarantee their safety.

“Where are we going?” Laurel asked, her voice low.

Garrett glanced at her, then Molly. “I have an untraceable vehicle lined up. We’ll hole up for the night. You need rest. Then after I do a bit of digging, we’ll see.”

Laurel had brought his past to Trouble. No closing it away again. If his innocent visitors weren’t in so much danger, Garrett would have welcomed the excuse to wait it out. His trigger finger itched to face the men responsible for killing his wife and daughter. Except a bullet was too good for them. They needed to die slowly and painfully.

Garrett might have failed to protect his family once, but he wouldn’t allow their killer to escape again. He didn’t particularly care whether he left the confrontation alive, as long as the traitor ended up in a pine box.

He just prayed he could get these two to safety before the final battle went down.

* * *

LAUREL STOOD ALONE just behind a hedge at the end of the alley, out of sight, squeezing the butt of her weapon in one hand, balancing Molly against her with the other. Garrett had risked crossing those streets to retrieve his vehicle, putting himself in the crosshairs in case the shooters came back.

Every choice he’d made focused on protecting them, not himself. She shivered, but it wasn’t the winter chill. She’d made a choice eighteen hundred miles ago to come here. Garrett’s immediate response to their arrival had frozen her soul. Now instinct screamed at her to run, to disappear, to try to forget the past and somehow start over.

Maybe she should. He knew what they were up against. He was worried. Maybe vanishing would be easier. She didn’t see Garrett Galloway as a man who would give up easily. But sometimes accepting the reality and moving on was the only way to survive.

A dark SUV pulled into the alley, lights off. Garrett stepped out. “Laurel?” he whispered, searching the hedges with his gaze.

She almost stayed hidden, frozen for a moment. She had some cash. People lived off the grid all the time. So could she.

She could feel his penetrating gaze, compelling her to trust him. What was it about him...?

With a deep, determined breath, she stepped out from behind the hedge. Beads of sap still stuck to her pants from hiding in the firewood pile. The scent of pine flashed her back to memories of camping and fishing and running wild without a care in the world. Her heart broke for Molly. Could Laurel help her niece find that joy after everything that had happened?

Laurel was so far out of her element. She’d taken a leap of faith coming to Trouble and to Garrett, trusting her sister’s final words. Her sister had known she was dying; she wouldn’t have steered Laurel into danger. Laurel could only pray she had understood Ivy correctly.

She carried Molly to the vehicle. Garrett didn’t say anything, but his dark and knowing eyes made Laurel tremble. Did he know she’d almost taken off?

“You decided not to run,” he said, opening the door. “I pegged it at a fifty-fifty chance.”

He could see right through her. She didn’t like it. “I almost did,” she admitted. “But I can’t let them get away with what they’ve done.” She pushed back a lock of Molly’s hair and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Our lives have been turned upside down. Can you help us?”

She didn’t usually lay her vulnerabilities out so easily, but this was life and death. She needed his help. They both knew it.

He gave her a sharp nod. “I’ll do what I can.”

She placed Molly in the backseat and buckled her up. Laurel climbed in beside her. She tucked the little girl against her side. “Where to?”

“I contacted a friend. We need food for a few days. He runs the local motel and does some cooking on the side.” Garrett paused. “I don’t know how long we’ll be on the road. His sister is about your size. I noticed that Molly has a change of clothes, but not you.”

Laurel could feel the heat climb up her face at the idea he’d studied her body to determine her size. But he was right. They’d left so quickly, she hadn’t had time to do more than purchase a few pairs of underwear at a convenience store. How many men would even think about that?

Garrett didn’t turn on the SUV’s lights. He drove the backstreets, then pulled up to the side of the Copper Mine Motel behind a huge pine tree, making certain the dark vehicle was out of sight from the road. A huge, barrel-chested man with a sling on one arm eased out of the side door. His wild hair and lip piercing seemed at odds with his neatly trimmed beard, but clearly he’d been on the lookout for them.

Garrett rolled down the passenger-door window. “Thanks, Hondo.”

The man stuck his head inside and scanned Laurel and Molly. The little girl’s eyes widened when she stared at his arm. “Who drew on you?” she asked.

Hondo chuckled. “A very expensive old geezer, little lady,” he said. He placed a large sack on the seat, then a small tote. “You’re right, Sheriff. She’s about Lucy’s size. These clothes are brand-new. Just jeans and some shirts and a few unmentionables.” His cheeks flushed a bit.

Laurel scrambled into her pocket and pulled out some bills. “Thank—”

Hondo held up his hand. “No can do.” He looked at the sheriff. “If you want them to stay here—”

“After what happened last time, Hondo, I won’t let you risk it. Thanks, though.” Garrett handed Hondo his badge. “When folks start asking, give this to the mayor.”

“Sheriff—”

Laurel clutched the back of the seat, her fingers digging into the leather. She wanted to stop him from giving up his life, but she’d brought trouble to his town. She’d left him with no choice.

“We all have a past, Hondo. Mine just happened to ride in tonight. Something I have to deal with.”

Hondo nodded, and Laurel recognized the communication between the two men. The silent words made her heart sink with trepidation.

“Keep an eye on Deputy Keller. He’s young and eager, and he needs guidance.” Garrett drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Come to think of it, you’d make a good sheriff, Hondo. You’ve got the skills.”

“Nah.” Hondo’s expression turned grim. “I won’t fire a gun anymore, and I couldn’t put up with the mayor. He’s a—” Hondo glanced at Molly “—letch and a thief.”

“And willing to take a payoff. I should know. It’s how I became sheriff.”

Hondo’s eyebrow shot up. “You still did a good job. Best since I’ve lived here.”

Garrett shrugged and shifted the truck into Drive. “Goodbye, Hondo.”

A small woman with wild gray hair shuffled out of the motel, a bandage on her head. “Hondo?” her shaky voice whispered. “Cookies.”

Hondo’s expression changed from fierce to utter tenderness in seconds. “Now, sis, you’re not supposed to be out of bed. You’re just out of the hospital.” He sent Garrett an apologetic grimace.

“But you said you wanted to give them cookies,” she said, holding a bag and giving Hondo a bright smile.

Laurel studied the woman. She seemed so innocent for her age, almost childlike.

The older woman’s gaze moved to Garrett and she smiled, a wide, naive grin. “Hi, Sheriff. Hondo made chocolate chip today.”

“We can’t say no to Hondo’s famous cookies, Lucy.”

Garrett’s smile tensed, and his gaze skirted the streets. Did he see something? Laurel peered through the tinted windows. The roads appeared deserted.

Lucy passed the bag to Hondo. An amazing smell permeated the car through the open window.

Molly pressed forward against her seat belt. “Can I have one, Sheriff Garrett?”

Hondo glanced at Laurel, his gaze seeking permission. She nodded and Hondo pulled a cookie from the bag. “Here you go, little lady.”

With eager hands, Molly took the treat. She breathed in deeply, then stuffed almost the entire cookie into her mouth.

Lucy giggled. “She’s hungry.”

Hondo placed a protective arm around his sister. “They’ve got to leave, Lucy. Let’s go in.”

She waved. “’Bye.” Hondo led her back into the house, treating her as if she were spun of fragile glass.

Garrett rolled up the window, lights still off. He turned down the street. “She was shot in the head a couple months ago. We didn’t think she’d make it.”

Laurel wiped several globs of chocolate from Molly’s mouth. “You’ve made a place for yourself in this town.” She resettled the sleepy girl against her body. “I’m sorry.” What else could she say?

“They’ll find someone else. Things will continue just as they did before I came to Trouble.”

The muscle at the base of his jaw tensed, but Laurel couldn’t tell if he really didn’t mind leaving or if something about this small town had worked its way under his skin. She didn’t know him well enough to ask, so she kept quiet and studied the route he took. Just in case.

He headed west down one of the side streets almost the entire distance of town.

Laurel couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Where are we going?”

Garrett met her gaze in the mirror. “I’m taking the long way to the preacher’s house. The church auxiliary keeps it ready, hoping they can convince a minister to come to Trouble. It’s been empty for almost a year.”

“We’re just hiding across town?”

“Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight,” Garrett said. “Besides, I want to do a little searching online. See what I can discover about your sister.”

“There was never a news report on the car bomb,” Laurel said quietly. On the way here, she’d searched frantically at any internet café or library she could. She kept expecting some news story on an investigation, but she’d seen nothing except a clipping about a tragic accident. In fact, they’d simply stated the entire family had perished in a vehicle fire.

She hugged Molly closer.

They’d lied.

“That tells us a lot.” Garrett stopped in the driveway of a dark house, jumped out and hit a code on a small keypad. The garage door rose.

“Small towns,” he said with a smile when he slid back behind the wheel. “I check the house weekly.”

“Is it safe?”

“The men who took the shot will assume we’re leaving town. I would. And I don’t want to be predictable.”

He pulled the SUV into the garage. The automatic door whirred down behind them, closing them in. Laurel let out a long breath. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it.

“We’re safe?”

“For the moment,” Garrett said, turning in his seat. “We need to talk.” His gaze slashed to Molly, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. Alone.

“I know.” Laurel bit her lip. She didn’t know much. She’d hoped Garrett would somehow have all the answers, that he could just make this entire situation okay.

It wouldn’t be that simple. She clutched Molly closer. Laurel had no idea how they would get out of this situation alive.

* * *

THE INKY BLACK of the night sky cloaked Mike Strickland’s vehicle. Stars shimmered, but it was the only light save a few streetlights off in the distance. Trouble, Texas, was indeed trouble.

“They couldn’t have just vanished.” Strickland slammed his fist onto the dash of the pickup he’d commandeered. He’d switched license plates and idled on the outskirts of town, lights off, in silence. He tapped a number into his cell.

“They come your way?” he barked.

“Nothing,” Don Krauss said through the receiver, his voice tense. “There are only two roads into town.”

“But a lot of desert surrounding it,” Strickland muttered in response to his partner’s bad news. “We need satellite eyes.”

Krauss let out a low whistle. “You request it, the boss’ll wonder why.”

Strickland activated his tablet computer. The eerie glow lit the cab. “You see the history on this sheriff? Garrett Galloway?”

“Yeah,” Krauss said. “So?”

“It’s perfect.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, his backstory is perfect. He grew up in Texas. Went to school at Texas A&M. Joined the corps there. Got a few speeding tickets. Headed to a small town, ran for sheriff.”

“Like a thousand other Texas sheriffs.”

“Everybody’s got something. No late taxes, no real trouble. It feels wrong,” Strickland said quietly.

Silence permeated the phone. “What are you thinking?”

“You saw his moves. He didn’t learn those in college. Maybe Laurel McCallister didn’t get here by chance. Who comes this close to nowhere on a whim?” Strickland glanced around. “And we’re at the frickin’ end of the earth.”

“Still doesn’t help to explain if the boss asks about using the satellite.”

“I’ll say it’s a hunch.”

Strickland could almost see his partner’s indecision. “You gotta learn to take risks, Krauss. If we don’t get rid of those two, we’re dead. But if my hunch is right, and Garrett Galloway isn’t just some hick sheriff, we might be able to feed the boss something new.”

“And save our skin. I like it.”

“Keep digging on Galloway. Even the best slip up sometimes.”

“I’m on it. What do we do until then?”

“I’m contacting headquarters. I want to see a sweep of this part of Texas from the time we arrived until now. This place is dead at night. I want to know who’s been moving around and which way they went.”

“This could go to hell real fast, Mike.”

Strickland scratched his palm. “We just need one break, Krauss. One opening, and our targets won’t live long enough to disappear again.”

* * *

A DIM LIGHT illuminated the preacher’s garage. A plethora of boxes provided too many invisible corners and a variety of spooky shadows along the walls. Laurel shivered, but slid out of the car anyway. She bundled Molly into her arms before following Garrett into the preacher’s house. He carted in the supplies while she scanned the kitchen, studying each corner, each potential hiding place, each possible weapon. One thing she’d learned in her job: details mattered.

Laurel stepped into the living room. A front door and a sliding glass back door. Not exactly secure. And, of course, doilies everywhere.

The muscles in her shoulders bunched and she cocked her hip. Molly grew heavier and heavier with each movement. She walked back into the kitchen. The decor erupted with grapes and ivy.

So very different from Garrett’s house. She’d seen enough of the place to know it hadn’t been a home to him, just a way station.

With a sigh, she sat down at the table, shuffling Molly in her lap. She and Garrett needed to talk, but not with Miss Big Ears listening to every word. Molly let out a small yawn. The girl had to be exhausted, but she wouldn’t be easy to put down. Even then, the nightmares came all too easily. “Do you have any milk?”

“Warm?” he asked, searching through a couple of cabinets. He pulled out a small saucepan before Laurel could answer.

She nodded. Molly sat up and rubbed her eyes, a stubborn pout on her lip. “I don’t want milk. This isn’t home. I want my mommy and daddy. I want Matthew and Michaela.”

Laurel froze. Molly hadn’t mentioned her brother’s and sister’s names since they’d left Arlington. She blinked quickly and cleared her throat. “I want them, too, honey. But we have to hide. Like a game.”

“I don’t like this game. You’re mean.”

The girl’s lower lip stuck out even farther and her countenance went from stubborn to mutinous. She crossed her arms, and all Laurel could see in her niece’s face was an enraged Ivy. Some might think she could wait Molly out, but her niece could be as tenacious as...well, as Laurel herself.

“It’s late, Molly.” Her tone dropped, words firm and short. She didn’t want to have another drawn-out adventure getting the little girl to bed. Before the car bombing, it had taken some cajoling, at least two stories and two tiny glasses of water before she could get the child to close her eyes. Now...Molly didn’t fall asleep until her poor body simply rebelled. “It’s time for bed.”

“Then why aren’t you having hot milk, too?” Molly scrunched her face and crossed her arms.

Garrett turned around. “We’re all having warm milk, and I made you a very special recipe,” he said, adding a dash of sugar and a little vanilla and nutmeg to the cups he held.

He set a plastic cup in front of Molly and a glass mug in front of Laurel, then brought over a plate of vanilla wafers. The aroma mingled in the air around them, and Laurel sighed inside. It smelled like home and family. She swallowed briefly, her eyes burning at the corners.

Garrett took a seat, the oak chair creaking under his weight. His large hands rounded the cup. He raised it to his lips, sipped and stared at Molly. She glared back, but when he licked his lips, dunked a vanilla wafer into his cup and bit down, she leaned forward and took a small sip from her cup.

Molly’s eyes widened a bit and she tasted more. “Wow. That’s yummy. But I want chocolate chip.”

“Glad you think so.” He slid one of Hondo’s cookies toward the little girl and she gifted Garrett with an impish smile.

He winked at Molly, who downed another gulp. Laurel couldn’t resist, even though she detested the drink. She chanced a taste. The nutmeg and vanilla hit her tongue with soothing flavors. “Mmm. How’d you come up with this recipe?”

“My wife invented it, actually. Put our daughter to sleep.” A shadow crossed his face, then vanished just as quickly. “They’re gone now.”

“My mommy and daddy and brother and sister are gone, too,” Molly said with a small yawn. “I hope they come back soon.”

Laurel bit her lip to keep the sob from rising in her throat. “Is there someplace I can settle her down?”

Molly’s body sagged against Laurel. A few more minutes and the little girl wouldn’t be able to fight sleep any longer.

“Pick a room,” Garrett said. “I’ll check the perimeter and secure the house.”

He strode toward the door.

“Garrett,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Laurel. Thank me when this is over. Until then, I may just be the worst person you could have come to for help.”

* * *

GARRETT STOOD SILENTLY in the kitchen doorway as Laurel padded into the living room.

“She asleep?”

Laurel whirled around. Then her head bowed as if it were too heavy for her shoulders. He could see the fatigue in her eyes, the utter exhaustion in every step.

“She was bushed. It’s been a rough few days. She just downed the last of her medicine, so hopefully the strep throat is gone.”

He tilted his head toward the sofa. “You look ready to collapse. Have a seat. My deputy’s been busy tonight calming the town. He received a report of an SUV speeding out of town early tonight. I told him to keep out of sight but watch for it. If they’re smart, they’ll dump the vehicle.”

“But they won’t give up,” Laurel said.

“I doubt it.”

Laurel lowered herself to one end of the sofa, twisting her hands on her lap. “You work for the agency? With my father?”

Garrett sat in the chair opposite her. “In a way.” No need to volunteer that he was off the roll. If the agency didn’t think he was dead, he’d probably be awaiting execution for treason.

Just one of many reasons he shouldn’t allow himself to get too close to Laurel.

But even as he faced her, he felt the pull, the draw. And not because she was gorgeous, which she was, even with that horrible haircut and dye job. Beauty could make him take notice just like any man, but that didn’t turn him on half as much as how she’d fallen on top of Molly to protect her.

She was a fighter—a very good thing. She’d have to be for them to get out of this mess alive.

Which put her off-limits. That and the fact that she was James’s daughter.

“Your father trained me,” Garrett said, trying not to let himself get lost in his attraction for her. “He saved my life, actually.”

Laurel tucked her legs beneath her. “I thought it had to be something like that. I used to watch Dad train in the basement when I was a kid. I recognized that move when you dived to the ground.” She rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. “Ivy worked every night to perfect it. In spite of Dad.”

“I heard about the destruction to his office. I don’t think James wanted her to join up.”

“He was furious, but Ivy has...had,” she corrected herself, “a mind of her own.” Her voice caught and her hands gripped her pants, clawing at the material. “Dad raised us to be independent. She wanted more than anything to follow in Dad’s footsteps. She wanted to make the world safe.”

Laurel’s knuckles whitened and she averted her gaze from his. Every movement screamed at him not to push. Garrett could tell she was barely holding it together, and if she’d given him the slightest indication he would have crossed the room and pulled her into his arms and held her. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, studying her closely. He hated to ask more but he needed information. He had to know. She might not even be aware of the information she possessed. “Where’s James, Laurel?”

Her breath shuddered and she cleared her throat. “I don’t know. He stopped calling or emailing two months ago. Then out of nowhere a package arrived this week. He sent a charm bracelet to Ivy.”

This week. So if James had really sent the package, he’d been alive a week ago. Garrett’s shoulders tensed. “Did you bring it?”

Laurel pulled a silver bracelet from her pocket. She touched the small charms and the emotions welled in her eyes. Reluctantly she handed it to him. “Ivy shoved it into my hand as she was leaving that night...” Her voice broke. “She said it was important.”

He studied the silver charms. Nothing extraordinary. A wave of disappointment settled over him. Surely there was something here. He studied each silver figure, looking for a clue, a message from James. A horse, a dog. A seashell. Several more. Nothing that Garrett understood, but he’d bet Laurel had a story to tell about each one. The question was, did any of those stories have a hidden message? He handed her back the treasure.

“Tell me about the figures.”

She walked through a series of memories. A trip to the ocean with the family right before her mother passed away. Their first dog and his predilection for bounding after fish in freezing mountain streams just to shake off and soak everyone. A horse ride that ended in a chase through a meadow. Her voice shook more with each memory, but the hurt didn’t provide anything new. Garrett couldn’t see a connection.

He let out a long, slow breath. He had to ask. “How did Ivy die?”

Laurel stared down at the floor. He knew exactly how she felt. Sometimes even looking at another human being could let loose the tears. After Lisa and Ella, he hadn’t allowed himself to give in to his emotions. He’d shoved the agony away, buried it in that corner of his mind where it wouldn’t bring him to his knees. Garrett had focused on revenge instead. He’d had to in order to survive.

But since Laurel had landed underneath him on the streets of Trouble, the pain he’d hidden had begun scraping at him, digging itself out.

She didn’t look up. She simply twisted the denim fabric in her fists. “The explosion burned Ivy almost beyond recognition. She lived. She gave me your name. Then they shot her in the head.”

Her voice strangely dispassionate, she went through every detail. When she told him about the single cop’s arrival, Garrett closed his eyes. At least one law-enforcement officer on the take. Probably more.

Asking for help was out of the question. And with James AWOL, they were on their own. She knew it. So did Garrett.

Laurel lifted her lashes and silent tears fell down her cheeks. She wouldn’t be facing this alone. In a heartbeat, Garrett knelt at her feet. He pulled her into his arms and just hugged her close.

She clung to him with a desperation he understood. Her fingers dug into his arms. The tiny tremors racing through her tore at his heart. Laurel’s heart was broken, and she had a little girl who needed her to be strong.

Laurel needed him, but his body shook as the memories assaulted him. How many nights had he dreamed of his wife and daughter calling out to him, begging for him to save them? But Laurel’s pleas were real, in every look, in every touch as she clung to him.

The similarities between Ivy’s death and his wife’s and daughter’s couldn’t be denied. He’d find the culprits this time. They wouldn’t get an opportunity to hurt anyone else.

Garrett stroked Laurel’s back slowly, but she didn’t let him go. Her grip tightened.

His pocket vibrated. With one arm still holding Laurel close, he tilted his phone’s screen so he could see it. He blinked once at the number. The country code was too familiar. Afghanistan.

“Hello?” He made his greeting cautious, unidentifiable. This was Sheriff Garrett Galloway’s phone and number. No one from Afghanistan should know it. That was a life he’d hidden away.

“Garrett?” A weak voice whispered into his ear. A voice he knew.

“James?”

Laurel froze in his arms.

“Garrett, listen to me. The operation has been compromised. Go to Virginia. Get my daughters to safety. They’re in danger.”

“James, Laurel is with me. What’s going on? Where have you been?”

“Oh, God,” James cursed. “Ivy knows too much. You have to get her out of there.”

Garrett nearly cracked. He didn’t want to tell his old friend the worst news a man could receive. Garrett knew the pain of losing a child. Your heart never recovered.

Laurel snagged the phone away from Garrett. “Daddy?” she shouted.

“Laurel, baby. Don’t believe what anyone tells you,” James said, his voice hoarse. “Promise.”

Shouts in Arabic reverberated through the phone. “Find him!”

“Laurel,” James panted. “Remember. Ivy’s favorite toy.”

A spray of gunfire exploded through the speaker.

The phone went silent.