Chapter 4
Lane found what might be a trail from the overturned vehicle and carefully followed it away from the service road. Cassie trailed after him, her flashlight poking into the darkness as she called Josie’s name.
He wanted to shush her, if only because the person who’d sent that picture might be out here, waiting for the right moment. Whoever wanted Cassie out of the way could be lining up a shot this very second. Lane let the chill slither down his spine. He’d learned not to fight the sensation, but to give his peripheral awareness and his instincts free rein.
It wasn’t as if she’d stop calling even if he did ask. She was desperate to find the girl. He understood that. Hell, he was on board with her persistence, he just didn’t want her to wind up like her partner. Or worse.
He wondered if the way she’d denied the threat to herself was a common theme in her life. She didn’t strike him as a woman with a martyr complex. Then again, he didn’t know her. Attraction wasn’t the same as connection—something he’d avoided during his years of service.
Through the years, he’d watched relationships crash and burn as forced distance and fallout from various missions took their toll. It wasn’t inevitable, but it happened frequently enough that Lane avoided relationships. Why take the chance? After all, if he did fall in love, he’d want the woman he loved to be happy. He would want to be happy too. Military service—especially among the high-pressure SEAL teams—could be a wrecking ball, trashing healthy boundaries and expectations for everyone involved.
“You’re quiet,” Cassie said.
“You want me to start shouting? She knows your voice, not mine.”
“Fair point.” She called out again, pausing to listen for any reply.
After a beat, Lane moved forward again. “Why isn’t there anyone waiting for you? Besides the client,” he clarified. Grateful as he was that he might have a chance here, he couldn’t fathom her single. On the one hand, he didn’t need to block the way she felt when he’d kept her from tumbling earlier. Her body had felt exactly right in his arms. The soft weight and warmth of her had sent his imagination into overdrive. He wanted to hold her again, preferably without a near medical crisis in the mix.
“Just not a priority, I guess.”
“Huh.” Spending time with interesting people was a new high-priority for him. Whether that interest was simple curiosity or more intimate didn’t matter. He’d found it was fun to meet people now that he wasn’t operating anymore. “Priorities were why you weren’t into it when I was flirting with you on the beach?”
“Did I hurt your pride?” She snorted. “Forgive me. I was cool because you’re an obvious flirt. Men like you are here one second and gone the next.”
Not true. He was in control of his schedule these days. Sure, he traveled with his friends, but he could extend a stay or move on early if the mood struck. Having discovered the benefits of retirement, he was just getting started with living it up.
“And I’m here on a job,” she said. “As the lead it feels like I’m on duty twenty-four-seven. My personal hours are a chance to veg out.”
He understood the demand and drain of that constant state of readiness. “Right.” Maybe he should drop it. But he just pressed for more information. “Am I not your type?”
She tripped and he automatically reached out to steady her. He liked helping her, being close enough to lend a hand. Or anything else she might need or want. “I’d really like to get to know you better.”
“And I’d really like to focus on why we’re out here. Josie needs us.”
He let it go. Mostly because he couldn’t figure out why it mattered so much. He flirted all the time, with willing women of course. In the past, if someone wasn’t interested, he moved on. Not this time.
Something about Cassie made him want to stick around and win her over. The best chance of earning that opportunity was to find the girl.
Picking his way through the dark, he tried to think like a frightened young teenager running on adrenaline. What would she do, stranded out here without a phone? Did the girl have any sense of direction to go with her basic self-defense skills?
He was about to ask Cassie when his cell phone hummed in his pocket. He stopped, Cassie on his heels. “It’s Waylen,” he said when the caller ID showed on the screen. “Give me a second.”
She nodded, clearly understanding he didn’t want to miss a possible clue.
“Tell me some good news,” Lane answered. “You’re on speaker.” He tapped the button and held the phone so Cassie could hear.
“Kian and I found Drake Vogel,” Waylen reported. “We’re en route to the ER now.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said.
She smiled at Lane and he was momentarily speechless. “Hey. Yeah. Did you find anything with him?”
“Like what?” Waylen asked.
“A note or something,” Lane explained. He was about to elaborate, but Cassie shook her head.
“We didn’t look,” Fox said. “The man needed medical attention.”
“Cassie?” Drake’s voice didn’t sound any stronger. “Have you found her?”
“Not yet,” Cassie said. “We’re close.”
Lane cocked an eyebrow at the exaggeration and she wrinkled her nose. “You rest up,” she said to her partner. “I’ll fill you in as soon as Josie’s back where she belongs.”
There was some muttering in the background, then the sound of an engine. “Keep us in the loop, Benning,” Waylen said. “Hawk too. The volcano has everyone scrambling.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Lane promised. “First round is on me.” It was a phrase that held double-meaning. There had been times when he’d been responsible for the first—and only—shot on a mission. With that phrase, his friends would understand that he had things under control out here. At least as much as that was possible.
“Hold him to that,” Kian said.
The call ended abruptly and Lane slipped the phone back into his pocket. “I don’t renege,” he said to Cassie. “He just likes to harass me.”
“No worries,” she said. “Come on.”
She gestured for him to get back to the search. He turned away, looking for clues. She gave another shout, but there was no answer.
“Why lie to your partner?” he asked a few minutes later.
“Because I know he’s taken this all on himself.”
“Isn’t it?” He was in charge of the girl’s safety when she’d been captured. In the bodyguard’s shoes, Lane would be carrying a ton of guilt on his shoulders.
“Hold up.” She tugged on the back of his shirt. “What’s your problem with Drake? You don’t know him. You don’t know our system. Mistakes happen.”
“True,” he allowed. “My goal isn’t to offend you.”
“Too late.”
That was obvious. “Cassie.”
She shoved away from him and started calling Josie’s name again.
Great. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already dug himself a hole where she was concerned.
No, he didn’t know her partner. He had no idea why anyone would grab the girl and then let her get away. But the partner had been posed with that threatening picture. There was no demand for ransom. And those incidents Cassie had listed, while minor on the surface, didn’t sound random. Especially when lined up in full context.
His gut instinct insisted there was more to this. That Cassie was a target. He couldn’t get the image of that slash over her face out of his mind.
Not that she wanted his help beyond finding her young charge. There wasn’t much in the way of a trail at this point. The darkness limited them to a sweep and shout strategy. This place was the textbook definition of isolated. He and Cassie might as well be the only two people in the world. How much worse would a thirteen-year-old be feeling?
Lonely wasn’t a familiar sensation, despite the remote corners of the world he’d traveled and the hours he’d spent in a sniper’s nest. Rarely had he ever been truly alone. His team had been no further away than a radio call, his location always monitored by someone running overwatch.
“Wait.” He held out an arm so Cassie wouldn’t blow right past him. “Hear the water? We’re close to a waterfall.” That meant more places to hide. He crouched down, searching for any sign, and caught a freshly broken twig. “This way.” He shouldered through the vegetation, moving closer to the waterfall.
“Josie!”
“Cassie?”
Lane’s flashlight painted the girl in a bright light. Cassie rushed by him in a blur to get to the girl. Then she was gently patting Josie down, checking her for injuries as Lane walked up.
The girl’s face was marred with dirt, her hair damp and tangled. She seemed a little banged up around the edges with scrapes on her hands and torn pants that revealed a wound on her leg. Overall, she was in one piece. “You are a tough one,” he observed.
Her eyes went wide. “Who are you?” She tried to move away, but Cassie held her. “Where’s Drake?”
“He’s safe. Alive,” Cassie replied. “This is Lane. I wouldn’t have found you or Drake without his help. Drake is on his way to the hospital.”
“What about—” She stopped talking, when Cassie offered her water. After draining the bottle, she started over. “What about the others? Where are they?”
To his surprise, Cassie proceeded with caution. “What others? What do you remember?”
“All of it. We finished one super fun zipline and suddenly they jumped us. Two of them. The tour guide wasn’t there. They dragged me off and beat the crap out of Drake.” She shuddered and leaned into the hug Cassie offered. “I tried to fight, Cass. I tried. But they tied me so fast and dumped me in one of the 4-by-4s.”
“You broke your zip ties,” Cassie said. “Way to go.”
A small smile brightened the girl’s face. “I’m not sure who was more surprised when that worked,” she confessed. “But I had the chance, so I ran.”
“Where were you going?” Lane asked.
“I wanted to get back to the resort. But when it got dark, I decided to try and find the waterfall because the tour comes out this way almost every day. I figured I wouldn’t have to wait long.”
As Cassie claimed, the girl was smart and tough. He was more impressed by the minute. “How many people were in the vehicle?” he asked, ignoring Cassie’s quelling look.
“Two guys. Older than me, but not as old as Dad.”
He saw Cassie register the response. The woman had to be in on it, but they would’ve had to pick her up on their way to the resort.
“You remember what they looked like?” Cassie asked.
Josie gave a decent description of the men from the photo. When Cassie showed her the picture, she nodded. “That’s them. That lady wore a guide’s shirt, but she wasn’t a real guide.”
They would need to have someone follow up and find the real guide stationed at that platform, but he’d leave that to others.
“Did they take your phone?” Cassie asked.
Josie’s face fell in disappointment. She shook her head. “I lost it somewhere. I guess when I escaped.”
Most likely the men who’d taken her had found the device and kept it, making sure she had no way to call for help. “Let’s get out of here,” Lane said. His instincts were prickling again. Cassie might not believe the girl was bait, but the hair on the back of his neck disagreed.
On a mission, this was the moment he’d start listening for the throb of helicopter rotors, wondering if the extraction would arrive before any surviving enemies rallied for another shot at them. He guessed a helicopter wasn’t an option during a volcanic eruption. Ash clouds and aircraft weren’t a good mix. He vaguely recalled all the talk of rerouting commercial air traffic around Iceland when that volcano blew.
“We’ll sort it out,” Cassie promised as they started back that way. “Your family will be so happy to see you.”
“Same.”
Lane tuned them out. His focus had shifted. They hadn’t discussed it, but he appointed himself head of security now that they’d found Josie. Cassie could ask questions and offer comfort and he’d keep them alive. He was on full alert, their low voices fading into the background while he strained to pick up any hint of what had him on edge.
They had a long hike ahead no matter which route he chose. Having the map in his head, and knowing where they were, he indulged in a brief debate. Best to head back to where he’d left the vehicle Hawk had loaned him. Using the cleared service road would make the trek easier for all of them and there would be cover if they needed it.
He heard movement up ahead. Faint, but definitely there. What he could see of the road was clear, so whoever was out here was hiding in the deep shadows off the path. Could be an animal, but if not, the person had the high ground. What he wouldn’t give to have his team backing him up about now. He didn’t dare pull his phone and compromise his night vision any further. Should’ve given Cassie the number for one of his friends. But that only would’ve helped if they were available and close enough to lend a hand.
Oh, well. The universe didn’t offer guarantees and Lane had plenty of practice with creative problem solving. With as little extra movement as possible, he drew his gun and slowed his steps.
“Lane?” Cassie’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and right behind him.
Good. Behind him was the safest place to be. “Stay low. Single file.”
Creeping forward, each step slow and deliberate, he sought out the threat. What kind of trap had they walked into? Solo attacker or team ambush?
The smartest option for the culprits was to stay near the girl. Observe and wait. Strike if necessary—if Cassie appeared. So why hadn’t they attacked immediately? Upon finding Josie, he and Cassie had been distracted. Vulnerable. If the roles were reversed, that’s when he would’ve leapt to the advantage.
Certain games appealed to Lane. Chess. Target practice. Flirting. Football and hockey were a couple more favorites. Hazarding a guess with only partial information? That wasn’t entertaining at all.
Just pissed him off.
Suddenly, a red laser sight dusted across the dark leaves of a tree. Lane tucked up close to a thick tree trunk. Cautiously, he followed that light back toward the source until it blinked out. High ground all right, but within range of his SIG. Convenient, once he pinpointed a target.
One shot whizzed by his face and he knew—knew—the damned shooter had aimed at Cassie. Since no one screamed, Lane assumed the shooter missed. He leaned around the tree and fired back. Three quick shots, then two more gunshots joined his. From the sound, those shots were from Cassie. In the aftermath of the gunfire, Lane heard a muffled groan and a crash as something fell through the branches, landing hard several yards up the road.
“Wait here,” he said as Cassie walked up beside him.
“Hell with that.” Her gun was aimed toward the dark road. “We stick together. Josie?”
“Right here.”
Lane saw her reach out to touch Cassie’s back. “Let me take a look first.” He set off before she could argue. If she wanted the girl to see a dead body, that was between them.
He found the shooter, lifeless, in a heap of vegetation just off the road. No sign of the gun. Aiming his flashlight up into the trees, Lane spotted the weapon tangled up with the branches. No one could get to it up there, which was the most relevant issue for Lane.
He knelt down and checked for a pulse. None. He patted the man down and found a knife and a huge flashy handgun better suited to a movie set than any real-life application. In a back pocket, he found a cell phone with a rainbow-sparkle case along with a cell phone in a basic black case. “Hmm. Fascinating style choices,” he muttered.
He took control of the weapons before he used his foot to roll the body face up. Definitely dead. Bullet wounds in his chest had bled profusely and either another bullet or the dense trees had taken chunks from his arm, neck and face.
He took several photos with his phone and sent those off to Waylen with a short message about the attack. Then he waved Cassie over.
“That’s Greenlee.” She swore. “The confirmed man from Welker that we ID’d earlier at the resort.”
“He’s the one who took me away from Drake,” Josie added. “Is he… is he dead?”
Cassie moved to block her view of the body. “Yes.” She pulled the girl in for a hug and sent Lane a weary look. “Can you notify the police?”
“On it.” He sighed.
“What now?” Josie asked.
“We’ll have to wait for the police,” Cassie explained.
Lane grunted. “That could take some time. Emergency crews are spread thin.”
“What do you suggest?” She sat down hard on the road, her shoulders slumped, looking as tired as the girl.
He didn’t want to scare Josie, but they couldn’t sit out here and wait for someone to come looking for Greenlee. So far, they knew of three people involved in this situation, but there could be more. “I’m going to document the scene and send the info to Hawk.”
“Why not the Guardian Agency?” she asked, her brow knitting over that slender nose.
“We can send the intel to them too. The more the merrier. As long as someone with a good reputation with local law enforcement can vouch for us and back up our decisions.”
Her frown grew more severe. “What decisions?”
“We’re leaving.” He cut off her protest with a sharp look. “We are leaving,” he repeated. “We’re sitting ducks if we stay.” Did he have to remind her—out loud—that Josie was in more danger if they waited on law enforcement to show up and take over?
She rolled to her feet. “You’re right. But I don’t have to like it.”
A snappy comeback danced on the tip of his tongue, a promise of something she might like better. He managed to keep the suggestion locked down. There was a kid present. They started moving and one of the flashlights swept over her. “Hold up. You’re hurt.”
“I’m not.” She followed his gaze, knocking his hand away when he reached for her. “What are you doing?”
He kept his hands to himself, barely. She’d been hit, damn it. “Greenlee tagged you.”
“Let me see.” Josie inserted herself between them. Holding the flashlight for Cassie to get a better look. “Shirt’s trashed,” the girl declared. “But you’re not bleeding.”
Lane wanted to confirm that assessment with his own eyes, but this wasn’t the time or place. At best, Cassie was a colleague, despite his hope that she’d agree to have drinks with him sometime. At worst, she was still a target. “Let’s get moving.”
Cassie grumbled as they hiked on. “This was one of my favorite shirts. Dang it.”
Lane made a silent promise to replace the shirt at the first opportunity. It was his fault the shooter had gotten so close. He should’ve been quicker. Chosen a different route. Done something less predictable.
“Hey.” Her hand brushed over his arm as she matched his pace. Her skin was warm. Soft. But it was the strength he could feel in her hand that fascinated him. She was a woman with every wonderful feminine attribute, but she was brave and tough, and a damn good shot.
“It’s not your fault,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over his heavy footsteps.
He had a different opinion.
“Lane? Did you hear me?”
“I did.”
“And?”
He glanced down, wishing he could see her better. Her features were cast in shadows. “What? I heard you,” he said.
“You disagree.”
“Yes.” He absolutely did. “You called Hawk for help and—” And he’d let her get hurt. Not acceptable.
“And you gave it,” she said. “Thank you. I couldn’t have found Josie without you.”
The tightness in his chest eased. “You’re welcome. Sorry about your shirt.”
She made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Might be fun to see what happens if I send a bill to Welker Specialists.”
“Fun?” His temper simmered. Everything was pointing to that group being rotten. He didn’t know who they were or why they were messing with her and the people under her protection, but damned if he’d let her deal with it alone. “Keep me in the loop on that. Please,” he added when she didn’t reply.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He had a company name and a dead employee. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Definitely enough to ask Waylen to help him research. Whatever Cassie decided to do next, Lane intended to be her shadow until he was convinced she was well and truly safe.
She wouldn’t lose another shirt—or anything else—on his watch.