Stop at Nothing (4 page)

* * *

“Gabe,” Kyle greeted his brother with a grin, spreading his arms wide. “You came all this way to welcome me home. I'm touched!”

“You're gonna be touched all right,” Gabe growled, his broad shoulders hunching over as his hands balled up at his sides. God, the older Gabe got, the more he could've been their father's clone. The same powerful build, same golden-blond hair kept high-and-tight, same piercing gaze, same scowl whenever he looked at Kyle.

Tom smoothly stepped in front of Gabe, placing a restraining hand on his chest and bringing him to an abrupt halt. “Back off.”

Gabe knocked his hand away, making to go around him, but Tom grabbed his arm. “I said, back off,
Deputy
,” Tom ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument and making it very clear that he was pulling rank—not just as the eldest brother but as executive deputy and Gabe's boss. “If you have something to say to Kyle, you can do it from right here.”

Gabe sent such a menacing look Kyle's way that it brought Joe to his feet and to his younger brother's side.

“Good to see you again, Gabe,” Kyle said, keeping his voice as sincere as he possibly could, all things considered. It honestly
was
good to see his brother again—even if the last time they'd seen each other they'd had a knockdown drag-out that had started with Gabe calling Kyle a traitor to the family for turning his back on all of them and ended with Kyle breaking Gabe's movie-star-perfect nose. A vast improvement, in his opinion. Now, if he could just do something about that arrogant dimple in Gabe's chin… The damned thing had always made Kyle want to nail his brother with a well-placed uppercut.

“You might be able to convince Tom and Joe to just forget what happened,” Gabe spat, absently moving his hand to his left hip and turning down the radio that crackled loudly with an exchange between dispatch and another deputy, “but I can't forget what you did to Dad.”

Kyle laughed in a harsh burst before he could check it. “What
I
did to Dad? Are you kidding me?”

Joe grabbed Kyle's arm and walked him back a few steps, putting more distance between him and Gabe. “Come on, man,” Joe urged softly. “Let it go.”

“Like hell I'm gonna let it go.” Kyle sent an indignant look Gabe's way. “Jesus, Gabe, you're so far up Dad's ass, do you even know whose shit you're wiping every morning?”

Gabe surged forward, spoiling for a fight, forcing Tom to physically restrain him.

But Kyle wasn't about to back down. He strode forward to meet Gabe, trying to shake off Joe's restraining hand. “Let him go, Tom,” he said. “I'll clean his clock. Again.”

“Knock. It. Off.”

Sadie's voice immediately cut through to both brothers, bringing them to heel in an instant. When Kyle turned his gaze toward her, he almost grinned at the woman who'd been like a kid sister to the Dawsons for as long as he could remember. Her expression was chastising, and with her arms folded across her chest and one hip jutting out at a defiant angle, she was damned adorable. He could only imagine what all those horny high school boys thought of their English teacher when she put the smackdown on them with that look. And he'd never envied Joe so much in his life.

“This is
my
house,” she reminded them. “If you boys want to fight, you can take it somewhere else. But you're not stupid kids anymore. You're grown men, for crying out loud. You both need to get over yourselves and stop all this nonsense!”

Joe pegged them both with an expectant look. “You guys have something to say to Sadie?”

Kyle mumbled an apology to Sadie, then extended his hand to Gabe, feeling like a total jackass. Gabe hesitated for a long moment, glaring at Kyle, but then he blew out a harsh breath and shook Kyle's hand.

Kyle was just opening his mouth to make good with Gabe, when his phone rang. Grateful for the interruption, he snatched his phone from his pocket and answered without even looking. “Agent Dawson.”

He could hear voices, distant, indistinct. “Hello? This is Agent Dawson.” Frowning, he pulled the phone back and checked the display.
Holy shit. Abby.
She'd actually called him back. He'd totally pussed out when he'd called earlier, not even having the balls to leave a voice mail. But she'd called him anyway. That was a good sign, right?

His stomach flipped end over end, and he forced himself to keep his cool when he cleared his throat and said, “Hey, Abby.”

“Abby?” Sadie echoed, trading looks with Joe, knowing well Kyle and Abby's history. Then Kyle saw her silently ask, “Why's she calling?”

“Abbs?” Kyle said when she didn't answer. “You there?”

“Everything okay?” Tom asked.

Kyle held up a finger to indicate he needed a minute. He took a couple of steps away and plugged his other ear. His frown deepened as he strained to listen. Even though he couldn't quite make out all of what the man on the other end was saying, he recognized that particular tone. His blood ran cold and he had to fight back the sudden panic that wormed under his skin.

“Abby's in trouble,” he whispered urgently to his brothers. Keeping his phone to his ear, he motioned for them to follow him. “We gotta go.”

* * *

“What data?” Abby rasped, although she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

The man's gun dug deeper into her ribs, making her wince, but his tone was calm when he said, “Come, come. That's not how the game is played. I tell you to give me the data, you hand it over. No one gets hurt. You don't get to change the rules.”

Game? He thinks holding a gun to my ribs is a freaking
game
?

He wasn't just a pro; he was a whack job.

“You think you're the only client I have?” she asked, her voice thankfully more defiant than she felt. “You're going to have to be more specific than that if you want me to play along.”

“Tartarus.”

Abby's eyes went wide. He was talking about Tartarus Security Services International, her brother-in-law's company. But she hadn't yet divulged any information to Hamilton about the connection between the investigation she'd conducted for him and how it tied back to her brother-in-law's private security firm. So how in the hell did the guy holding a gun to her ribs know about it? Unless maybe Hamilton had known all along…

In the distance, Abby heard the sound of approaching sirens. Praying to God it was the police sent in response to her 911 call, she decided to keep the intruder talking. Find out what she could until they arrived—and maybe provide a little evidence to whoever might be listening on the other end of her open phone line.

“I didn't investigate Tartarus,” she said truthfully. “There's been a mistake.”

He pressed the gun harder into her ribs, just hard enough to make her cry out, but more in surprise and fear than pain. “Tick-tock, tick-tock. Running out of time…”

“I don't have it!” Abby yelled. “I have no idea what the hell you're talking about!”

The sirens were growing louder. “Well, you'd better figure it out,” he growled in her ear, his almost playful tone suddenly harsh and deadly.

Oh yeah. This guy is completely unhinged…

“And not a word about the data to the police,” he said, mildly chastising now, “or I'll send your sister's head to you in a box. Do you understand the rules as I have explained them to you, Deputy Morrow? Nod for me if you do.”

Abby nodded furiously.

“Good girl. I'll be in touch.”

He shoved her away none too gently.

Abby stumbled forward, and the phone flew from her hand, tumbling out of her immediate reach. A heavy pounding on the door had her scrambling to her feet and racing to the front door. She didn't even bother looking through the peephole or at the security camera mounted by the door to see who it was—it had to be better than the thief who'd just held her at gunpoint a moment before—and threw open the door.

Her knees buckled with relief when she saw who it was. Strong arms lifted her up and held her close.

“It's alright, baby girl,” Sheriff Mac Dawson drawled. “I gotcha now.”

Kyle's heart was in his throat when they arrived at Emma Maxwell's house, a quick call to dispatch having confirmed his fear—an emergency call had come in from Abby's sister's house with a report of an intruder. Two sheriff's vehicles and three Oakdale police cars were already parked out front. The door stood wide open, and two of the Oakdale officers walked the perimeter, shining their flashlights along the hedges.

“Abby!” Kyle cried as he jumped out of Gabe's department Tahoe, not even bothering to close the door behind him as he sprinted toward the house. “Abby!”

An Oakdale officer met him at the door, barring his entrance. “I'm sorry. You can't come in here.”

Kyle had the urge to throat punch the guy, but instead he reached into his jeans' back pocket and produced his ID. “Agent Kyle Dawson,” he said, flashing his badge. “I received a call from someone at this residence.”

“It's okay, Mike,” Gabe said, coming up behind him with Tom and Joe in tow. “He's our brother. Let him in.”

Officer “Mike” did a double take at Kyle, then stepped aside. “Sure. Sorry. Come on in.”

Kyle squeezed by before the guy was even out of the doorway, rushing into the dark house.
Why the hell aren't there any lights, by the way?

His father was barking orders in the semidarkness. As Kyle headed in the direction of his father's voice, he felt a brief spike of apprehension at the thought of walking headlong into the same room as the Old Man, but his concern for Abby overrode his instinct to turn around and walk away.

“Abby!” he called out again as he reached the entrance to what appeared to be the living room. A man in what looked like a security guard's uniform sat on a couch with an ice pack on his crown, apparently having taken a blow to the back of the head.

Frantic, Kyle looked for Abby, his gaze taking in the entire room at a glance. His throat went tight when he caught sight of her sitting on the couch, her shoulders slightly hunched, her gorgeous blond hair a tangled mess. Her gray T-shirt was rumpled with a small tear near the collar, and her white capris had a smudge of dirt on the knee, but she was in far better condition than he'd feared he would find her. Sitting next to her was her nephew, Tyler, whose wide blue eyes were very similar to Abby's as the two of them turned their attention to the doorway where Kyle stood.

For a long, heavy moment, Abby's gaze met Kyle's, her expression unreadable. And for a few agonizing seconds, Kyle thought maybe she was in shock and didn't recognize him. But then she launched to her feet and rushed toward him, a strangled sob escaping her as he moved forward to meet her.

And then she was throwing herself into his arms, squeezing him around the neck so hard he could hardly breathe. He gathered her close, holding her as his heart pounded with relief and joy at finding her alive. It was almost as if they'd never been apart.
Almost
. But then Abby's hold on him suddenly loosened and she was pushing out of their embrace.

She swiped at her cheeks as if embarrassed by her tears and took a step back. “Sorry. I shouldn't have—I mean, I didn't realize…” Her words trailed off as a frown brought her fair brows together. “What are you doing here? How did you know?”

“You called me,” Kyle explained, trying to recover his composure and not let on how much he'd enjoyed having her back in his arms again—even for just a few short moments—and how much it killed him to let her go. “I heard what was happening and got here as soon as I could.”

She cocked her head to one side, clearly confused. “But…I thought you were in New Orleans.”

“In case you failed to notice, this happens to be a crime scene,” his father interrupted. “And while I appreciate the FBI's concern, I'm sure you have more important business to attend to than a humble little B&E.”

Kyle tried his damnedest not to roll his eyes. He should've known the first encounter with Mac would be like this after the way the last one had ended. And he wasn't surprised one bit to hear his own angry words thrown back in his face. But it still pissed him off.

He sent an exasperated glance his dad's way, then turned his attention back to Abby. “Breaking and entering?”

An almost imperceptible flush rose to her cheeks. “Yes.”

She's lying. Why?

“Perhaps you misunderstood me,” Mac said, his voice louder. “We currently do not have need of your services,
Agent
Dawson.”

Kyle turned to finally peg the Old Man with an exasperated look. His father hadn't changed a bit. Tall and powerfully built, Mac Dawson was just as imposing as he'd ever been and as full of piss and vinegar as Kyle remembered. And he was looking at his youngest son like he was an intruder, an outsider who had no business there.

Hell, maybe he was right. But Kyle had never given him the satisfaction of an easy victory, so why start today?

Kyle turned his attention back to Abby, choosing to ignore his father's pointed dismissal. “What happened, sweetheart?”

* * *

Sweetheart.

Abby suppressed a shudder as that one word speared straight through the heart. When Kyle Dawson had suddenly appeared in the doorway of her sister's living room, she'd thought she was hallucinating. But there he was, coming to her when she most desperately longed for him, his black brows drawn together in a frown, the already angular planes of his face even harsher in his distress.

Kyle ducked down a little so he was at eye level with her, those intense sapphire-blue eyes showing the depth of his concern as he searched her gaze. “Abby?”

“I interrupted the intruder,” she explained, her gaze flitting briefly toward the sheriff, who'd looked skeptical from the start and was giving her the stink-eye even now. She cleared her throat a couple of times, before adding, “We scuffled. He got away.”

Kyle nodded, his eyes narrowed. “Was that before or after he cut the power to the house and managed to get by the alarm system?”

She should've known Kyle would see through her story. He seemed to have almost a sixth sense when it came to crime scenes. But the photo of Emma bound and gagged suddenly came to mind, her concern for Emma's safety preventing Abby from confiding in Kyle.

“Clearly, he'd done his homework and had been casing the place, watching for an opportunity to break in when the family was out of town,” she said.

That at least wasn't a lie. The guy had been prepared. He'd known exactly what he was doing. And she'd hazard a guess that he'd also known Curtis was out of town and that Abby and Tyler were there alone.

Speaking of Curtis… Where the hell
is he anyway?

Kyle gave her a knowing look. “Abby—”

“I'm sure Mac and the boys can handle it,” she interrupted, inwardly cringing, knowing that the reference to his father was a low blow. But it had the desired effect.

“You heard the young lady,” Sheriff Dawson interjected. “Gentlemen”—he motioned to Gabe and Tom—“please escort Agent Dawson from the premises.”

Gabe took a step forward to obey his father's order, but Tom put a restraining hand on his arm and shook his head.

“You look like you could use a little air,” Kyle said, gently but firmly taking hold of Abby's elbow and leading her toward the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder at Tyler, reluctant to leave him after what they'd been through, but she saw Joe sitting beside him, chatting quietly to put the boy at ease.

Still, as great as it was to see Kyle, she wasn't exactly eager to be alone with him again. Silence had a way of opening the door to some really uncomfortable questions that she wasn't exactly ready to answer. That didn't even include the total bullshit she was feeding everyone about what had really happened.

“Excuse me, Agent, but I have some additional questions for my deputy,” Mac said, his tone even in spite of the anger that flashed in his eyes. “And I would thank you not to interfere with my investigation, young man.”

Kyle lifted his free arm to his side and bent slightly at the waist, offering his father a mocking bow. “Wouldn't dream of interfering,
Sheriff
.”

Before his father could offer another word, Kyle ushered Abby from the room and out the front door. Abby's heart began to race as he led her farther into the growing darkness beyond the headlights and flashing blue-and-reds on the various vehicles.

Once they were out of earshot of any of the other officers, Kyle finally released her and turned to face her, hands on his hips. “Spill it. And don't give me any bullshit about interrupting a robbery. I could hear some of what was going on. I know he was after something you have—or he
thinks
you have.”

Abby turned her head away, staring into the darkness crowding in along the dense tree line that bordered the property. “I don't know what you're talking about. I told you what happened.”

Kyle grasped her chin and forced her gaze back to his. “Abby, it's
me
. You could always talk to
me
. Let me help you.”

How could he be so kind after all she'd put him through, so caring when
she
was the one who'd pushed him away?

Abby closed her eyes, focusing on the way her skin tingled beneath the gentle pressure of his fingertips. “I can't.”

“Why? Because of Mac?” Kyle demanded. “Screw him. You called me. I came. This is between you and me.”

She shook her head as much as his tender grasp would allow. “It has nothing to do with Mac.”

“Then what?” he pushed. She could feel his entire body tensing as if he was steeling himself. And then his hands fell away from her. “Is it because of what happened between
us
?”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, her hands reflexively coming up to rest on his chest. “Oh, Kyle…” God, the pain she saw in his eyes just then was killing her. “No. It has nothing to do with us. If anything…”

Her words trailed off as she considered her words, torn between revealing her true feelings and letting him continue to think he'd never meant anything to her. She absently fiddled with the button on his blue-and-black-plaid button-down, suddenly getting the insane urge to pop it open and get to the toned pecs she knew were beneath the material. She dragged her gaze up to his, settling for her typical avoidance maneuver. “It's complicated.”

His brow lifted, indicating he was totally on to her. “Well, I figure if it was simple, you would've already come clean with Mac. So tell me something I don't know.”

She turned away and strode a couple of paces. “Kyle, I just
can't
.”

“Bullshit!” he snapped, charging after her. “You called me here, Abby. If you didn't want—”

Abby spun around to face him, her arms spread wide. “If I tell you, my sister will die!”

Kyle twitched at her sudden revelation. For a long moment, he stared at her in stunned silence before finally running his hands through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Jesus.” He then made as if to reach for her, but his hand dropped back to his side. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

She waved away his question. “Don't worry about it. I'll handle it.”

“You'll handle it,” he repeated, hands on his hips. “Right.”

She bristled at his lack of faith. “What? Do you think just because I'm a woman I can't bring down the bad guy and get my sister back?”

The look he gave her was a mixture of anger and disappointment. “You know me better than that,” he countered. “You know damned well this has nothing to do with you being a woman. It has everything to do with you not having any experience in this area.”

“I went through the academy just like everyone else,” she reminded him, slapping her hands on her hips, mimicking his posture, and lifting her chin defiantly. “And if I recall correctly, I'm a better shot than
you
, Kyle Dawson. So don't you tell me that I can't hack it.”

He took a quick step toward her. “You want to prove to me you can do this on your own? Then you tell me what's going on and convince me that you're not going to end up getting yourself—and your sister—killed. Otherwise, I march right back in there,” he said, jabbing a finger toward the house, “and tell the Old Man that you're bullshitting him. We'll see how well he takes that little bit of news.”

Abby crossed her arms with a huff and pressed her lips together in an angry line. As much as she hated to admit it—and she seriously
hated
to admit it—Kyle was right. She was out of her depth on this one. She needed help. And as much as the thought of depending on Kyle made her want to hyperventilate into a paper bag, she wasn't about to let their history interfere with getting Emma back safely.

“Fine,” she relented. “But not here.”

Just as they turned back toward the house, Abby's phone dinged with a text message notification, startling her. Her gaze flitted to Kyle's. “He said he would be in touch.”

“Want me to read it?” he asked.

She shook her head and swallowed hard, preparing herself for whatever the text message might hold. Dreading what was coming, she reached into her back pocket and took out the phone, holding her breath as she brought up the message.

But there was nothing she could've done to prepare herself. There was no text. Just a picture of what she figured was probably a man, based on the fact that he wore a suit and tie, lying on a concrete floor in a dark pool of blood. But his identity was a mystery, his face having been completely demolished, beaten and broken until it was nothing more than a pulpy, bloody mess of bone and gore. Even so, there was enough that looked familiar—including the ugly, expensive tie—to assure her of his identity.

Her hand reflexively reached for Kyle and grasped the front of his shirt, which was probably the only thing that kept her standing.