Stop at Nothing (5 page)

His arm went around her waist, offering her support. “Abby? What is it? Your sister?”

Abby shook her head slowly. “No. I think I found my brother-in-law.” Her hand shook so badly as she turned the phone around for Kyle to view that he had to take it from her to see the photo on the screen.

Kyle's eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

Abby covered her mouth as an involuntary sob burst forth. She was barely keeping it together as it was, and now this… She knew that if her emotions broke loose, there'd be no reining them back in. She'd devolve into a hysterical cliché.

“Abby, sweetheart,” Kyle soothed, “you don't know that this is Curtis. This guy's such a mess, there's no way of knowing.”

She shook her head. “Curtis was due back this evening, but he's hours late. This has to be him, Kyle. Why else would someone send the picture?” She bent forward at the waist, bracing her hands on her knees and forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths to keep from passing out.

Dear God…

How could this happen? Where the hell was Curtis's so-called “personal security specialist” while Curtis was being beaten to death? The whole point of his hiring that giant wall of muscle Arlo—the MMA fighter turned bodyguard who followed Curtis around like a two hundred and fifty pound shadow—was to keep anything like this from happening.

And what was she going to tell her nephew? She had to make up some excuse, some reason why his parents hadn't returned. She wouldn't share the devastating news that his father had been murdered until she had some answers.

As she fought to draw in gulps of air, Kyle studied the phone. “Figures,” he spat. “Blocked number.” He hit Redial, waiting, but then shook his head. “I guess it would've been too much to ask for the asshole to have the factory-default voice-mail message listing the phone number. Abby, sweetheart, do you think you could figure out where this number originated?”

“Uh, um…” Abby straightened and smoothed her hair back from her face. Her synapses began firing again and she nodded. “Yes. There's an app you can use. It's on my phone. I hadn't tried it yet.”

He handed the phone back to her, and she quickly called up the app and ran it against the blocked number. Within seconds the number was revealed on the screen. “I don't recognize that area code, do you?”

Kyle cursed under his breath. “Yeah. I do. It's from New Orleans. What are you doing?”

Abby was typing the phone number into her Internet browser. “I know it's a cell phone, so I'm looking for what service he uses. Then I can get a search warrant and hopefully figure out what we need to know.”

“But in order to get a search warrant, you're going to have to provide probable cause,” Kyle pointed out. “And that means telling someone about your sister. You okay with that?”

Abby couldn't hold back a frustrated groan. “
Damn
it!” Her shoulders sagged. “We
have
to find this guy, Kyle.”

He nodded, his black brows drawn down in a frown. “We'll find him, Abby. And we'll get Emma back. I swear it.”

He spoke with such confidence Abby almost believed him.

“Did you resolve the problem?”

Greg Fielding ground his back teeth and gripped his phone tighter, resisting the urge to tell his employer to go piss up a rope. Instead he said, “Not exactly. The police arrived before I could locate the data.”

“Hmm.”

That was it. No yelling. No chastisement. Just that single short, ambiguous sound. But Fielding wasn't an idiot. He'd fucked up. And his employer wasn't in the habit of forgiving those who failed him. Fielding had worked for “Mr. Smith” before and knew he was far more likely to end up with a bullet at the base of his skull, courtesy of one of the other hired help. If they could find him.

“She knows we have her sister,” Fielding continued. “And I've made it clear what will happen if she doesn't deliver the data.”

There was a slight pause before he heard, “And?”

Fielding's thoughts raced.
And
what? What the hell else did his employer want to hear? “And I'll be in contact to arrange a drop.”

Another pause.

Prick.

The guy was a pompous, self-righteous pain in the ass that Fielding would've been more than happy to take out just for shits and giggles if he hadn't needed the fat paycheck that'd be coming his way once this job was over with. Mr. Smith was damned lucky he paid so well.

For that reason alone, Fielding checked an exasperated huff and continued, “Should I apprehend Emma Maxwell's son too?”

“No need,” his employer assured him.

Fielding waited for the rest of the explanation, but none came. Whatever. He wasn't being paid to give a shit. Whatever game his boss was playing was his own business. Fielding had been hired to abduct Emma Maxwell and get some sort of data from her sister. The rest of the bullshit was somebody else's job to clean up.

“I'll be in touch as soon as I have the data,” Fielding assured his employer.

“You have twenty-four hours, Mr. Fielding.”

Fielding tossed his phone aside with a muttered curse and snatched his night-vision field glasses from the passenger seat of his Bronco. He'd bought the piece of shit a few days earlier from the buy-here, pay-here lot just for this trip. The smarmy salesman was more than happy to hand over the keys without any questions when Fielding gave him a stack of hundreds with a few extras thrown in to expedite the transaction.

The vehicle was just the kind he liked for his line of work—nondescript, no real distinguishing characteristics, and able to handle pretty much any terrain. Not that northern Indiana had much in the way of difficult topography. Mostly farm fields and countryside in this area, especially in the two little towns he'd visited thus far.

The bigger hazard was the Amish buggies that seemed to be everywhere. He'd damned near run one over on his way to Maxwell's house earlier that evening. He'd come over a slight hill only to see the little black buggy in the middle of his lane. When he jerked the wheel to avoid nailing it, he'd almost flipped the Bronco.

But the only flipping was the bird he sent the driver's way as he passed. If he hadn't already secured a nice comfy seat in hell with what he did for a living, he imagined that little gesture probably would've earned him a few more points toward upgrading to first class.

He grinned, reliving some of his greatest hits, but a sudden sting on his forearm jolted him from his musings. He swatted the mosquito with an angry growl just as a light appeared in the doorway of the house he was watching. He raised the field glasses to his eyes.

Abby Morrow was leaving the house where she'd dropped off the kid and was getting back into a Mustang with the dark-haired guy who'd driven them there. The boy wasn't on his list, but it didn't hurt knowing where he was holing up, just in case Abby needed a little more persuasion after all.

The house belonged to the smokin' hot girlfriend of some local deputy, so that certainly complicated things. Fielding wasn't a chickenshit, but he wasn't a moron either. Breaking into the home of a cop didn't exactly tip the odds in his favor. And catching a bullet just to snag some kid who would most likely be a total pain in the ass wasn't exactly high on his bucket list.

Anyway, considering the way Abby Morrow had reacted to the picture of her sister, odds were good she'd fold in no time. Just a little more pressure was all she needed. In his experience, a little urgency was always a good motivator.

* * *

It was weird having Abby sitting in the car next to him again. Kyle glanced into the rearview mirror at the empty backseat of the '67 Mustang his brothers had restored for him on the sly as a surprise college graduation present.

A smile curved his lips before he could check it.

The car had seen a lot of action since then, especially during the summer when he and Abby were together. They'd made out there on more than one occasion, so into each other, so hot and horny that they couldn't always make it home before they needed to get their hands on each other. The thought of Abby then—half-naked and panting, her tanned skin glistening with sweat as his fingers stroked her toward mindless bliss to hold her over until he could get her home and bury himself in that same slick heat—made his cock go rock hard.

He shifted in the driver's seat, trying to make himself a little more comfortable, and had to force his grip on the steering wheel to relax. He barely managed to suppress a groan of need. He hadn't been with anyone since Abby. It wasn't like he hadn't had the opportunity, but none of the other women who'd crossed his path could hold a candle to the one at his side.

He sent a furtive glance her way to see her staring straight ahead and chewing a little at her bottom lip in that way that drove him crazy. It was the sexiest damned thing he'd ever seen. Which did wonders for the raging erection threatening to burst through his zipper.

Shit.

In an effort to divert his thoughts to something less boner-inducing, he cleared his throat and asked, “Did you tell Tyler the truth?”

Abby started, clearly having been wrapped up in her own thoughts. She turned and stared at him for a moment as if she'd forgotten he was there. “That his mother's been kidnapped and his father's dead, you mean?” she asked finally. “No. I told him his mom and dad had both decided to stay out of town a few more days—not a huge stretch of the imagination since Emma's already delayed her return twice and Curtis's business trips often go longer than anticipated. And I gave him the same story I told your dad about what happened at the house. He knows I'm lying about it being a normal break-in. I could see it in his eyes.”

“Tyler's a smart kid,” Kyle confirmed.

She closed her eyes for a moment. “I know. I just…I hate leaving him alone right now.”

“He's not alone, Abby,” Kyle assured her. “He's with Joe and Sadie. They're people he knows and trusts. And Joe's not going to let anything happen to him.”

She brushed a couple of tears from her cheek. “I know. I just feel guilty. I should be with him right now.”

“Don't feel guilty,” Kyle insisted. “You can't conduct this investigation with him in the room, Abby.” He hesitated, carefully considering his words before adding, “We just don't know what we're going to find.”

Abby took a shaky breath but nodded.

“We're going to find her, Abbs.”

She sent such a grateful look his way that his heart about broke in two. He hoped to God he was right.

“I don't know what to do about Curtis,” she said. “Who do we report it to? I mean, I don't even know where that picture was taken.”

“I don't know,” Kyle admitted. “Unless we figure out who sent it and where it was taken, I'm not sure there's anything we
can
do beyond reporting him missing. We still can't be certain he's even the guy in the photo.”

She heaved a sigh. “I hate being at this asshole's mercy.”

“Well, soon he won't be holding all the cards,” Kyle assured her.

She twisted in her seat to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

He ducked his head a little guiltily. “I told Joe what was going on.”

“Without running that by me first?” she cried. “You know what'll happen if they find out we've involved the Sheriff's Department!”

“Abby,” Kyle said, keeping his tone even, “we need help on this. Mac might've played along with your story, but he's not an idiot. Who do you think trained me how to assess a crime scene? Odds are good that he's going to be back there as soon as the sun's up, taking another look. If we're going to keep him off the scent, there needs to be some misdirection. Joe can keep him focused on the burglary angle while we pursue our leads. But I think you underestimate my dad. I sure as hell don't see eye to eye with the guy, but he's not going to do anything that would get Emma killed. If you were just straight with him—”

“No!” Abby interrupted. “I'm not telling anyone else about this until my sister is home safe and sound. What if it were one of your brothers?”

She had a point. There's nothing Kyle wouldn't do for one of his brothers. Even as strained as his relationship was with Gabe, he'd still throw down against anyone who threatened to do him harm, consequences to himself be damned.

“Okay. Fine,” he relented. “We'll play this your way.”
For now
. “But, uh, you should know I also asked Joe to look into the phone number.”

“Oh my God,” Abby moaned. “Kyle…”

Good lord, I wish she was moaning that phrase in a totally different context…

“I trust Joe with my life,” he reminded her. “He'll know what to say to Elle McCoy to get her to request the search warrant so we can see the cell phone records.” When Abby gave him a doubting look, he added, “She's the deputy prosecutor, Abby. We had to go through her. I'm sure Joe will just use the ol' Dawson charm to convince her to keep things as quiet as possible.”

“You're a bit out of the loop,” Abby informed him. “Gabe's been trying to get into Elle's pants for years, and she keeps turning him down like a hot stove. I hate to tell you, Kyle, but she's immune to that ‘ol' Dawson charm.'”

“Good thing I didn't send Gabe to do it then, eh?” he said, offering her a half-grin. But when that didn't lessen her concern, he told her solemnly, “We had to try. This guy's got us by the short and curlies, Abby. We need to get some kind of leg up on him.”

Abby nodded. “Okay. You're right. I just—” A single sob shook her shoulders. She hissed a curse under her breath and pressed her lips together in an angry line.

God, it was breaking Kyle's heart to see her going through this. The fucker who was holding her sister had better hope Emma came home okay, or Kyle would tear the bastard limb from limb. That protective urge he'd always felt toward Abby surged with a vengeance, making his blood boil with anger. He had no right to the feeling; that was for damned sure. But it didn't stop him.

Not knowing what else to do, he reached over and grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. What he
wanted
to do was pull over and drag her into his arms, hold her close, and kiss her lips until she melted into him and let him take away all the pain and sorrow for a few fleeting moments. But he had to settle for just holding her hand.

“We're gonna get Emma back,” he said. “I promise. And we'll figure out if that was Curtis in the photo.”

Her hand shifted a little in his grasp, and for a second he thought she was trying to withdraw from his touch. But, to his surprise, she twined her fingers with his, squeezing back. “I don't want to get you mixed up in all this, Kyle. I'm sure you have your own cases back in New Orleans to worry about.”

In spite of her words, he didn't miss the note of hesitant hope in her voice.

He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles and shook his head. “I've been reassigned,” he explained. “I'm in the office up here now. I haven't officially started yet—just moved my stuff into my office today.” He frowned, catching the time on the clock. “Or
yesterday
, I guess. And I'm using a week of vacation time to get settled, so don't worry about me.”

When he glanced Abby's way, her eyes were wide and her chest was heaving a little as if she was out of breath. “You…” Her words trailed off and she swallowed hard before continuing. “You've been reassigned?
Permanently
?”

Was that a note of hopefulness in her voice again? Was it possible that she was
happy
to have him back in the area? Kyle's stomach rolled with some tentative hope of his own. “Well, you know, it's never permanent. But, hey, who knows? I could get transferred again—maybe to Middle of Nowhere, Alaska, or something next time.”

“Middle of Nowhere, Alaska?” she repeated with a chuckle.

He turned the full force of his grin on her. “Hey, what can I say? It's a glamorous life I lead.”

Abby laughed a little harder than his joke warranted, and he was glad to see some of her tension dissipate. God, he wished he could help her out in that regard in a few other ways.

Well, hell. Here we go again… Way to go, genius.

He shifted in his seat once more, hoping she thought he was just antsy and wasn't on to the party in his pants.

He could feel the weight of her stare and glanced her way again but wasn't quite sure how to interpret her expression. “Abbs?”

“Why did you call me?” she asked.

He offered her a halfhearted smile. “I'd wanted to let you know I was back in the area and find out how you were doing.”

“Yeah, well,” she drawled, “guess you got the answer to
that
question. Welcome to the latest episode of
Morrow Family Dysfunction
.”

Kyle chuckled. “Have you
met
my family?”