in a car accident. His mother, overwhelmed with guilt because she’d been driving, developed a drinking problem that caused them to move often. Unless he counted the string of violent boyfriends his mother attached herself to—the best of which ignored him, and the worst of which were actively cruel to him—he had no frame of reference for what it meant to be a dad or a husband.
Gunshots sounded behind them. More squealing tires. More racing cars. He heard a car with a loud motor zoom up behind them. The owner revved the engine.
Austin wrapped an arm around Kylie and the baby and pulled them toward the shadows of the building.
Men got out of the car and paced the street. Some were shirtless, revealing gang tattoos and the guns shoved into their waistbands. Austin didn’t bother looking around to see if there was anyone he could appeal to for help.
If any violence erupted in this neighborhood, the people around here would just look the other way.
Mercedes cried. Kylie shushed her and bounced a little.
One of the men stepped toward Kylie and Austin, fixating on the baby.
“Ah, gringo, you have a niña bonita with you.” He tilted his head as his voice filled with menace. “Out here in the cold night.”
“We don’t want any trouble.” But despite his words, Austin was looking for an opening to land a good punch. So much of fighting was about psychology—especially with a group like this. If Austin seemed weak, they’d fall on him like vultures. But if he seemed strong, he and Kylie might be all right. Sizing up his opponent, Austin decided he could handle this guy.
The man looked down his nose at them and narrowed his eyes in a threatening way.
Austin landed a single blow to the man’s stomach that doubled him over. The other men took several steps back, raising their hands in a surrender motion as Austin directed Kylie and the baby back toward the edge of the sidewalk.
“Well, that takes care of that.” A note of amusement danced through Kylie’s words as they hurried along.
“Sometimes quick and clean is best. We don’t have time to play diplomat with thugs. We need to get this kid to a safe place.”
Kylie stopped and looked Austin directly in the eyes. “Yes, we do.”
Maybe it was just the light, but he thought he saw admiration, maybe even affection, in her eyes. He kept walking. Yeah, it was probably just the way the light was hitting her face. Someone like Kylie wouldn’t be interested in someone like him. She probably had Thanksgiving with twenty relatives around and lots of laughter. He spent his holidays at the retirement home with the former cop who had been his saving grace. Robert Wilson had been his parole officer when he was fourteen and in trouble. Old Bob had seen a potential in Austin that he hadn’t seen in himself. Since his mother’s death, Old Bob was the closest thing to family Austin had.
He shook his head. Why was he even entertaining thoughts about Kylie?
Kylie looked up at him. “Why are you shaking your head?”
“No reason.” His cheeks flushed with heat.
“Talking to yourself because it’s the only time you can have an intelligent conversation?”
He laughed. “Yes, that must be it.”
He had no idea she had such a great sense of humor. Chalk it up to the tense situation. Just one of those things you learn by helping someone rescue a baby out of a bad neighborhood.
Kylie bounced the baby. She pressed her lips together as she looked up ahead. “Where is he? Where is Brent?”
Austin scanned the street. “He’ll get here as fast as he can.”
Another car with music pounding eased past them. The back window rolled down and one of the gang members sneered at them, forming his finger into a gun and pointing it at him. The car sped up as the gang member rolled up the tinted window.
Austin’s chest squeezed tight as though it were in a vise. They could not stand around waiting for long.
Up ahead he saw one of the ranger vehicles park along the curb. Brent McCord got out and leaned against it, offering them a quick nod of recognition. They were safe.
Austin glanced over beside him to the auburn-haired woman and her blanketed bundle. Tension knotted at the back of his neck. Maybe the shots at the apartment building had not been personal and had been aimed at them only because of their uniforms. He hoped that was the case. The other possibility was far too worrying.
Garcia’s contacts were abundant on both the American and Mexican side of the border. If Garcia wanted them dead, he would see to it they were taken out.
Kylie could feel the fatigue settle into her muscles as she and Austin rode horses through a remote part of the desert. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of getting Mercedes settled in and starting the legal process for adoption. Kylie’s neighbor, an older woman named Gloria Espina who she’d known for years, agreed to watch the baby for now. Kylie had put in a request to be moved to more monitoring work once the Garcia mission was complete. The risk to her well-being in that position would be much lower than going out on patrol.
Austin put the binoculars up to his eyes. “What have we here?”
In the fading light, she could see the glint of metal in the distance, a vehicle of some sort.
Austin had requested to work with her again. Two teams consisting of a ranger and border agent had gone out to search the desert for where Garcia might have crossed over. Colt Blackthorn and Greg Gunn had taken a section of land to the east.
She was glad she’d been paired with Austin. They were both invested in finding Garcia. They would need to see this case to the end...together. And yet she hadn’t told him about her request to be put on more monitoring work after the case closed. There hadn’t been much conversation between them at all. It hurt her feelings that they’d been on duty for a couple of hours and Austin hadn’t asked anything about Mercedes. She was struggling with her own doubts. His support would be nice.
She pulled out her binoculars. “No sign of activity.” This could be the van Garcia had used to get across.
“All the same, let’s move in slow.” Austin slipped off his horse.
The rougher terrain and the need to be quiet made horses the better option in this remote part of desert. Growing up a ranch kid had served her well in that before she’d even trained as an agent, she knew how to ride and shoot.
Mexican surveillance cameras had photographed the van with a passenger who looked like Garcia. Now it was up to them to figure out if they were on the right trail. The van was generic in appearance, favored by the cartels for that reason.
Kylie caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around but saw nothing.
“Something wrong?”
In the desert twilight, she could have just been seeing things. Still, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that they were being watched.
Trust your instincts.
That’s what her training told her.
She dismounted. “I’m not sure.”
“I sense it too,” said Austin. “It looks quiet. But something feels like it could explode in our faces.”
They moved in slowly, stopping to watch the area around the van and in the hills that surrounded them.
Both of them dropped to the ground, scanning the landscape with vigilance. The driver’s side door was flung open. Someone had made a speedy retreat.
After several minutes of seeing no movement or potential threats, they closed in.
Austin