floor, tiny land mines to avoid. A toddler-size bed, the sheets and covers thrown back as if Brandon had recently awoken—and now the bed waited for the tiny body to once again claim slumber.
But the child wouldn’t be back. At least not to this house.
The McIntyre family no longer lived in Houston. The U.S. Marshals Service had moved them for a second time when their location had been compromised.
Only a few people within the service knew where Dylan, Grace and the kids had been relocated.
Serena and her partner, Josh, were among them. It was their job to pack up the family’s belongings and forward them through a long and winding path to their final destination. The McIntyres had been spirited away and deposited in paradise. Or as close to it as the U.S. Marshals Service could get them. Hawaii, to be exact.
Carefully picking her way around stuffed animals, train pieces and Legos, Serena went to work, gently folding clothing and stacking them inside the box. Her chest ached with empathy for the family that had almost been destroyed by the illegal activities of Dylan’s boss, Fred Munders, and his thugs.
Mr. Munders, a wealthy and well-connected lawyer in St. Louis, Missouri, had been implicated in several murders and in the illegal operation of a baby-smuggling outfit run through the adoption agency his wife, Matilda Munders, founded.
The only problem was the marshals and the FBI had found no hard evidence with which to shut Munders and the adoption agency down.
The word of several thugs and Dylan McIntyre, who worked as an attorney in Munders’s law firm, Munders and Moore, wasn’t enough to indict. The evidence Dylan had collected against his boss had disappeared from within the Marshals Service’s district offices, apparently stolen by someone within the service itself.
Serena’s fingers curled with anger around the tiny tennis shoe in her hand.
So many deaths, so many lives thrown into chaos.
The thought that someone she worked with, trusted, could have stolen the evidence and could have been leaking information to the bad guys sent Serena’s blood to boil.
If her brother were alive, he’d know how to compartmentalize the anger and pain gnawing at her day in and day out.
But Daniel was gone. Murdered.
A sharp stab of grief sliced through her heart. Followed closely by the anger that always chased her sorrow.
She tossed the shoe in the box and abruptly rose. Restless, she moved to strip the bed. She had to keep busy, keep her mind occupied, or her emotions would overwhelm her. Something she refused to let happen. She needed to stay professional. She needed to keep up the front that her world hadn’t collapsed with her brother’s death.
“Hey, you okay in here?”
Serena glanced up at her current partner, U.S. marshal Josh McCall. They’d been paired to work the illegal adoption case. His six-foot-three frame filled the doorway. He’d taken off his navy suit jacket and rolled the sleeves of his once crisp white dress shirt up to the elbows. His silver silk tie was askew, and his brown hair looked as if he’d been running his fingers through it again, the ends standing up, making him appear as if he’d just rolled out of bed rather than put in a ninety-hour week. His soft brown eyes, shadowed by signs of fatigue and grief, tugged at her heart. She’d always found him appealing. But that was before. Now she refused to allow her reaction to show. Not only did she not want to draw attention to the fact that she’d noticed anything about him, she didn’t want him to think she cared.
She didn’t. Josh was the reason her brother had been alone when he’d been murdered. Instead of having his partner’s back, Josh had been out on a personal day at the time Daniel needed him, leaving Daniel on his own to chase a lead, where he was struck on the head and left to die. Alone.
A traitorous thought niggled: Daniel shouldn’t have gone off by himself. Doing so went against protocol and logic. If he hadn’t, he would still be alive. She pushed back her musings. Her brother must have had a good reason. But nothing absolved Josh of the responsibility he had to protect Daniel. They’d been best friends as well as coworkers.
Her fists bunched up the bedding. Her soul cried out with “Why, Lord?” as it always did anytime she allowed her mind to go down that road.
Turning away from Josh, she said briskly, “I’m good.”
Taking the two ends of the sheet in each hand, she spread her arms wide and attempted to fold the sheet in half. The material didn’t want to cooperate.
“Here,” Josh said, stepping all the way into the room. “Let me help.”
He reached for the sheet, his hand brushing hers.
An electric current shot through her. She jerked away, letting go of the ends as if she’d been burned. The sheet fluttered to the floor between them. “I don’t need your help.”
His hand dropped to his side. “Serena.” Josh’s tone held a note of hurt.
Inhaling sharply, Serena berated herself for not being professional. She’d allowed her personal grief and bitterness to show. She stiffened her spine, raised her chin and let out a long breath.
Keeping her voice neutral, she asked, “How’s the kitchen coming along?”
Resignation shuttered his expression. “Almost done.”
“Good. I finished the kids’ bathroom and the daughter’s room. Those boxes are ready for transport.”
“We’ll be out of here in time to make our scheduled flight,” Josh stated, his tone flat. “It’ll be good to return to St. Louis and get some rest.”
Serena’s mouth pressed tight. Rest was something she’d had little of the past year and a half, ever since her brother’s unsolved murder. Not to mention the trips to various locations around the country as she and Josh worked to track down leads on the illegal baby-smuggling scheme. Each lead only brought more confusion and chaos. They badly needed a break in the case.
Glass shattered.
Serena’s heart hammered against her ribs.
The sound came from somewhere in the house.
Josh raised a finger to his lips, indicating silence.
She nodded and withdrew her weapon from the holster at her hip. Moving in tandem, they slowly made their way down the hall toward the main part of the house. At the T in the hallway, Josh gestured with two fingers for her to go right, while he’d go left.
Dipping her chin in acknowledgment, she peeled off to enter the empty kitchen. Her pulse beat a frantic tempo.
Hushed male voices came from the next room. At least two.
The muscles in her shoulders tightened. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. The nitty-gritty aspect of taking down the bad guys was a necessary part of the job. A part she had no qualms about performing. As a woman in a field historically dominated by men, she’d worked hard to prove herself. Just as other women in the service had done as far back as the late 1800s, when Ada Carnutt first put on the badge. Serena admired her predecessors as well as the current female director of the U.S. Marshals Service, who’d been appointed by the president. Serena would do them proud.
Skirting around stacked boxes, she made her way to the dining room just as Josh entered from the living room.
Two men stood inside the dining room and another was balanced half in, half out of the broken window on the side of the house. All three men, dressed in black, were big guys in their late twenties.
Josh yelled, “Stop! U.S. Marshals!”
The guy half inside the window dropped back outside and disappeared. One of the remaining thugs reached behind his back to whip out a .357 and aimed the pistol at Josh.
Fear burst within Serena. “Gun!”
Josh ducked behind a stack of boxes as the