Stop at Nothing (3 page)

He should at least call her, offer to take her out for drinks, catch up. But, shit. Did she have a boyfriend? Or worse—was she
married
? The thought that she might be happy with someone else—someone worthy of her love—gave him peace and made him want to hurl at the same time.

Fuck it.

He had to hear her voice. He had to know. It was hard enough to avoid thinking about her when he was hundreds of miles away and busy building a career, but now that he was back home, she was all he could think about. If he was ever going to move on, he had to get this over with.

Kyle went to his contacts before he lost his nerve and paged through until he found Abby's number. His blood was pounding so loudly in his ears that he almost couldn't hear the phone ringing.

* * *

Abby had only been on the road to her nephew's school for a matter of moments when her phone rang, startling her from her thoughts. Worried it might be Tyler trying to reach her, she fished the phone out of her purse and glanced down at the display.

Her stomach sank when she saw the number, even though she'd known this call would be coming. She heaved a sigh, silently berating herself for how her voice shook when she answered, “Abby Morrow.”

“Good day, Deputy Morrow,” came the smooth voice on the other end of the line. “I believe you were to have some information for me today.”

She'd already talked to her client's personal assistant in an effort to explain she needed just a few more days, at which time Abby had been assured she would have to answer for her “lack of cooperation.” She only hoped her client was more understanding than his harpy assistant had been.

Abby cleared her throat. “As I explained to your assistant, I've pulled the data you requested, Mr. Hamilton, but I'd like to have a little more time to run the reports again to determine—”

“That won't be necessary,” he interrupted. “You've already had ample time to go through the technology I provided, Deputy Morrow. And I have every confidence in your abilities. After all, my connections assure me you are quite talented.”

“Well, thank you, sir,” she demurred, ignoring the beep in her ear that indicated another call was coming in, “but—”

“I have a great interest in learning what you've discovered,” Hamilton told her, cutting her off in that particular manner unique to men not used to being denied. “It would be unfortunate if you were unable to satisfy the terms of our contract.”

“Mr. Hamilton,” Abby began, struggling to keep her tone even and calm, “I just need a little more time. A day or two at most. Regrettably, the data is a little more complicated than I'd anticipated.”

There was a heavy pause before Hamilton finally said, “That is regrettable, indeed.”

The phone beeped in Abby's ear, signaling the end of the call as she rolled to a stop at a traffic light. She shuddered, her skin prickling.

What had Hamilton meant? Was his parting remark permission to take a couple more days or a thinly veiled threat? And there was something in the way he'd said
regrettable
that had the little spot at the small of her back tingling, sending little tendrils of dread slithering up her spine. She shrugged a couple of times and rolled her head, trying to push the feeling away, but it persisted.

Abby closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She wouldn't give in to the paranoia.
Couldn't
. It had taken her two years to stop constantly looking over her shoulder after her father's murder. And she'd promised herself back then that she'd never devolve into the fearful, timid little mouse she'd been as a teenager. She'd seen what that kind of paranoia could do to a person, had witnessed her mother's never-ending series of breakdowns far too intimately.

That was the primary reason she'd gone into law enforcement—to feel empowered, to make a difference and do her damnedest to ensure that what had happened to her family didn't happen to anyone else's. It was a pipe dream, sure, but she had to do
something
or else the bad guys won.

A horn suddenly blared, jolting Abby from her stupor. Realizing the light had changed, she shook her head, then waved a hand in apology to the driver behind her before moving on. She was still rattled, her mind racing, when she pulled up in front of Tyler's school a few minutes later.

The boy stood at the edge of the sidewalk, away from the other groups of chatting, laughing children milling around nearby as they waited for their rides home. Smaller than most children his age, Tyler seemed even younger than he was. His heavy backpack was slung over one shoulder, his hands deep in his pockets. His shaggy blond hair fell across his forehead, hiding his eyes.

As always, Abby's heart broke a little at seeing how dejected her nephew was, how lost and alone he seemed. One of the wealthiest boys in the Midwest should have lots of friends, should be involved in sports, music lessons, academic teams…

But not Tyler.

He was painfully shy and had difficulty making friends with the other kids. Even though the other students in the exclusive prep school were certainly well-off, Tyler didn't want to call attention to himself, didn't want anyone to know that his father probably made more in one month than their parents made in an entire year. And that was saying something. He even refused to allow his father's “personal security specialist” to pick him up from school, instead preferring Abby in her aging sedan, which could use some work after the most recent spring hailstorm.

“Hey, monkey,” Abby called through the open window. “Ready?”

Tyler gave her an exasperated look, his eyes wide with embarrassment at the nickname. But after a quick glance around, he hopped into the backseat. “I told you not to call me that,” he mumbled. “I'm
ten
, Aunt Abby.”

Grinning, Abby cast a glance over her shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo. Habit. I keep forgetting you're growing up.”

His mouth hitched up in a hint of a smile, his expression hopeful. “Well, since you admit I'm growing up, will you let me play
Disaster Zone 4
tonight?”

Abby laughed. “Fat chance, pal. Your mom would lose her mind if she found out I'd let you play that video game.”

Tyler shook his head, his mood going dark again. “No she wouldn't. All she cares about is her stupid spa. She could've stayed
here
and gone to a spa.”

Yep, Abby should have a hazmat suit hanging in her closet, considering all the messes she'd been cleaning up.

“Well, your mom will be home tonight,” Abby reminded him, leaving out the part about her having been only a couple of hours away in Chicago for the last week. “Why don't you talk to her about it? Tell her how you feel?”

Tyler grunted. “Won't do any good.”

“Your mom loves you,” Abby assured him, the words sounding hollow even to her ears. She glanced in the rearview mirror in time to catch the skeptical look Tyler sent her way, which pretty much confirmed he had his doubts.

“Yeah right,” he murmured, turning his wide blue gaze to the window, the conversation over.

Abby sighed, wishing she could offer more encouragement. But apparently her sister, Emma, had learned her parenting skills from their own socialite mother. To both of them, children were merely trophies to be polished and put on display when company came to call.

“Have you heard from my dad?” Tyler asked.

Abby squirmed a little in her seat. She hadn't heard from Curtis Maxwell directly since he'd left for a spur-of-the-moment business trip, leaving Tyler in her care. She knew he wasn't where he'd claimed he was going, but she wasn't about to out him to the boy. She'd let the bastard do that himself after she told him what she'd found and turned the info over to the feds.

“No,” she told Tyler. “I haven't heard from him. But he's traveling today, and it's a long flight from Bogotá, Ty. I'm sure he'd call you if he could.”

He caught her eye in the mirror, giving her a wry look. “He has a phone in the jet, Aunt Abby. It's not like he
can't
call. He just cares more about his business than he does about me.”

“Well, he said he'd be home tonight, right?” Abby reminded him, forcing excitement into her voice. “He probably just figures he'll talk to you when he gets in.” When her words didn't lift Tyler's spirits—probably because she was a lousy actress and couldn't lie worth a damn—she tried a different tack. “Okay, I tell you what. Since it's a Friday night, I'll let you stay up until your parents get home.”

Tyler's eyes lit up at the idea, which only served to break Abby's heart all over again. No matter how her nephew pouted or pretended he didn't care about his parents' continued disinterest, the boy desperately longed for their attention and affection.

She forced a smile that was at odds with the furious words she was going to have for her sister and brother-in-law when she saw them again. “Sound like a plan?”

Tyler's smile grew. “Sounds like a plan.”

Kyle had called her.

Abby sat on the deck overlooking the private lake on her sister's property, listening to the water gently lap against the boats moored at the dock. She stared at his phone number, her heart pounding as her stomach performed an acrobatic act that would've put Cirque du Soleil to shame.

She'd been so rattled by the call from Hamilton that she hadn't even bothered checking to see whose call she'd missed until now. And there his name was, like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to have called out of the blue after three years.

At the sight of his name her stomach had dropped at warp speed, bringing a flush of heat to her skin. Which pissed her off. She wasn't some silly little schoolgirl with a crush. She was a grown woman, for crying out loud!

So why was calling him back so freaking
hard
? After three years, she should be able to handle talking to Kyle Dawson. What had happened between them was amazing, incredible. But it was over. Had been over for some time now.

And now, suddenly, he'd called
her
. If she'd been a person who believed in fate, she would've considered it a sign that the universe was trying to tell her something. Even so, she couldn't overlook the fact that the cosmos seemed to be giving her a giant smack upside the head.

She knew Kyle wasn't married, didn't even have a serious girlfriend. Working with his three older brothers at the Sheriff's Department made it impossible
not
to hear the latest Dawson family gossip. So what was the harm in an old friend calling another old friend to say hi? Right? Just a friend. It'd be fine. She could be aloof, indifferent. No problem. No problem whatsoever.

She blew out a harsh breath, then before she could talk herself out of it yet again, she pressed the screen over his number. But just as the line connected, a text message notification popped onto the screen, disconnecting the call.

With a groan at her thwarted attempt at forced nonchalance, Abby glanced at the message, expecting to see yet another message from her sister, another excuse for her late arrival. But it was from a blocked number. Frowning, she opened the message.

Enjoying your wine?

Attached to the message was a picture of her as she sat now on the deck in an Adirondack chair, a glass of Chardonnay in hand.

Her head snapped up, and she scanned the surrounding woods, searching the heavy shadows cast by trees in the twilight.

The sound of another text message coming in drew her attention back to her phone.

How's Tyler?

Abby launched to her feet, her wineglass falling to the deck and shattering as her blood turned to ice in her veins. “Tyler!” she shouted, searching for the boy at the edge of the lake where he'd been skipping stones. Her heart began to thunder in her chest when she didn't see him standing where he'd been just seconds before. “Tyler, answer me!”

* * *

A contented smile curled Kyle's lips as he watched Sadie stroll toward his brother and hand him a beer.

Joe's eyes sparked with desire as he slipped his arm around Sadie's waist and pulled her close for a lingering kiss.

The look that passed between Joe and Sadie when the kiss ended was one of such profound love that Kyle couldn't
help
smiling as he looked on, even as he felt that familiar ache of loneliness. “Hey, you two, get a room!” he called out through forced laughter that sounded authentic thanks to loads of practice over the years. Deflect with humor and sarcasm. That was his standard operating procedure whenever things got a little uncomfortable—or straight-up painful. “I didn't drive all this way just to watch you make out all night.”

Joe chuckled and released the woman he loved before closing the lid to the grill and returning to the patio table.

The fact that Joe winced a little as he took a seat, his bum leg apparently still giving him trouble, didn't escape Kyle's notice. Joe had been working out, toning up and working his ass off to get back in shape after an IED in Kandahar landed him in a hospital bed for weeks and rehab for months longer, but he still had a way to go.

Kyle tipped his beer bottle slightly toward Joe's leg. “How's that doing?”

Joe shrugged. “You know. About as good as can be expected. Doesn't hold me back where it counts.” He sent a playful wink Sadie's way, bringing a slight flush to her cheeks.

“God, you two are incorrigible,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

“I gotta say, this is a sorry excuse for a party.”

Kyle's head snapped around at the sound of the quiet drawl behind him. He launched to his feet with a laugh when he saw his brother Tom sauntering toward them, as tall and trim as the last time Kyle had seen him. Of the four brothers, Tom and Kyle shared the most similarities—from their black hair to their angular features. But their personalities couldn't have been more different. And with more than six years between him and Tom, he'd never been particularly close to his eldest brother. But, damn, it was good to see him.

Tom's leisurely, long-legged gait and easy smile were a welcome sight that unexpectedly made Kyle's throat go tight. Or maybe the emotion choking Kyle had something to do with the sorrow he saw etched in Tom's features. It'd been a few years now since Tom's wife, Carly, had been killed in the line of duty as a DEA agent during a drug bust gone wrong, but it was plain to see that her loss still weighed on Tom.

“Yeah, well,” Kyle said with a jerk of his chin, “we were holding off on the fun until after you leave. Didn't think you could take it at your advanced age.”

Tom's quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, his clear blue eyes—their mother's eyes—sparkling with humor as he extending his hand to Kyle. “Advanced age, my ass,” he said with a grin as Kyle accepted his handshake. Then, to Kyle's surprise, Tom pulled him in for a hug before playfully shoving him away and ruffling his hair. “What the hell did you get yourself into this time, you little shit?”

Kyle groaned. “Oh man. I'll fill you in later. I just want to devour these steaks Joe's got going and get totally shit-faced.” He craned around Tom, glancing toward the front of the house where he could see Tom's squad car was parked. “You coming from work?”

Tom gave him a curt nod. “Got called to an investigation as I was leaving the house. Gang hit over in Nelliston. Wanted to stop by and check it out.”

“Shit, really?” Kyle said, genuinely surprised. Gang violence? In Fairfield County?
Damn…
Had he been gone
that
long? “Is it really getting that bad over there?”

“The county's changed a lot just in the few years you've been away,” Joe chimed in. “The gangs from up in Chicago and Detroit are coming down here where they're a little more off grid, especially in cities like Nelliston and Hollisburg. Then you have Dawsonville and North Fallon where all the McMansions are sprouting up. The people who live there still have a small-town mentality and think crime isn't going to come to their doorstep.”

Tom grunted. “Yeah, just ask 'em. They'll tell you that kind of thing only happens over in Gary or down in Indy. And yet when someone walks in their unlocked garage door and cleans 'em out, they want to bitch about not having enough patrols in their neighborhoods.”

“And don't get me started on the meth houses,” Joe went on. “Cooperstown has turned into a total shit-hole.”

“Seriously?” Kyle shook his head. “That's gotta have the Old Man out for blood.”

“Well, crap,” Sadie interjected on a sigh. “Speaking of being out for blood, Kyle—Gabe's here.”

Kyle turned to see his brother Gabe charging toward him, that powerfully square jaw of his clenched tight with rage. He heaved a sigh of his own.

Well, shit. This oughta be fun…

* * *

“I'm right here, Aunt Abby.”

Abby spun around to see her nephew standing at the top of the deck steps. Relief washed over her at the sight of him and she rushed forward, sweeping him into a hug that made him squirm to get out of her hold.

“Abby, I can't breathe!” he protested.

She eased up just enough to shuffle him toward the house, shielding him with her body while she glanced around them, keeping an eye on her surroundings.

“What's the matter?” Tyler asked. “What's going on? Why do you look so scared?”

Abby quickly ushered him into the house, ignoring his questions. She'd just slammed and locked the French doors when another notification pinged. Abby dropped the venetian blinds into place to hide their movements from view before checking the message.

Hide-and-seek, Abby? Very well. One…two…three…

Abby's eyes went wide. “Shit.”

“Abby? What's going on?” Tyler demanded again, his voice shaking.

Whoever it was knew her name. Knew Tyler's. And was coming for them.

But why?

Was it Hamilton, pissed about her not handing over the data?
Damn it!
She'd have to figure that out later. Right now, her priority was keeping Tyler safe.

“C'mon,” she said, grabbing Tyler's hand and pulling him after her as she raced toward the door to the garage where her car was parked. “We need to leave. Right now.”

“What?” Tyler demanded, digging in his heels. “We can't go—my mom and dad will be home soon.”

Abby took hold of his upper arms. “Honey, I need you to trust me.”

Tyler's suddenly calm blue gaze met hers, and she saw understanding there that was beyond his years. “We should go to the safe room,” he told her. “Dad told me to go there if I was ever in danger.”

Of course! Abby had completely forgotten about the little room of concrete and steel hidden behind the bookshelves in the mansion's massive library. The fact that Curtis had ever feared his family might be in danger to the extent that they'd have to take refuge in a panic room made Abby want to strangle the bastard. She gave a curt nod. “Go. I'll be down after I set the alarm system.”

Tyler spun on his heel and bolted down the hall. Abby sprinted toward the panel that hung on the kitchen wall. Immediately, she pushed the panic button that was supposed to alert the guard at the gates to any trouble, but he didn't pick up. Goose bumps raced up her arms.

Damn it.

She'd have to call for help the old-fashioned way.

“This is Deputy Abby Morrow,” she said in a rush to the 911 dispatcher as she punched in the code to arm the system, but before she could enter the final number, the power to the entire house went dead, that sensation at the small of her back so strong her knees nearly buckled. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting around the room as she said softly, “I need to report an intruder.”

The backup system should've come up right away, allowing her to still arm the security system. But the keypad failed to respond. She rattled off her sister's address to the dispatcher as she tried the code again. Whoever had taken out the electricity had taken out the security system as well. As she glanced around the kitchen in the growing darkness, she made a not-so-sizable leap of logic and added in a whisper as she glanced around in growing darkness, “The intruder is likely armed.”

“We'll send a unit right away, Deputy Morrow,” the dispatcher assured her. “Please stay on—”

Abby disconnected, hating to be rude but needing to reach her sister before she walked right into whatever crap was about to hit the proverbial fan. She rushed from the kitchen to the hall where her nephew had gone just a moment before, bringing up her call list as she hurried toward the library and hitting her sister's number.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she muttered when the phone rang once, twice. Suddenly, the high-pitched notes of a cell phone's ringtone brought Abby up short.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when she realized the ringing was coming from one of the other rooms along the hall—a room that she had to pass in order to get to the library and the safe room where she hoped Tyler was already hidden. With fingers that trembled, she hung up. The ringing cut off abruptly, confirming her fears.

Oh God.

She swallowed hard, wishing like hell that the overnight bag containing her service weapon wasn't in the guest room upstairs. Her phone pinged with another text message, startling her so badly that the device fell from her hand, falling with a dull thud on the carpeted floor. She cursed under her breath, then dropped into a squat to retrieve the phone—keeping her eyes trained on the hallway ahead of her—and popped back up, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Steeling herself, she glanced down at the text. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a sob when she saw the picture on her screen. It was her sister, Emma, bound and gagged, her eyes wide with terror. Her hair was a tangled, ratty mess, blood darkening her silky tresses from a gash at her hairline.

Abby's head snapped up on a gasp. She felt the presence in the hallway a split second before she saw the hulking figure emerge from the room to her right. She pivoted and bolted in the opposite direction, but the intruder was surprisingly quick for his size. Before she could go more than a few feet, he grabbed her shirt, clotheslining her as he yanked her backward.

Abby stumbled, ass-planting so hard it knocked the air from her lungs. But she recovered quickly, scrambling to get to her feet. She didn't get far. The guy was on her in an instant, grabbing a handful of her hair and shoving her against the wall.

She instinctively squirmed and flailed, fighting to get free of his hold until the pressure of a gun in her ribs made her go instantly still.

“Where's the data?” the man demanded, his tone even, unperturbed, almost conversational. He was a pro, no doubt about it.

She realized then that by some miracle she still held her phone. She covertly moved her thumb, tapping her phone screen where she knew the back arrow had to be, trying to mentally tally the number of times it would take to get to the call list. She tapped one last time, hoping that whoever answered would tell the car en route to hurry the hell up.