Mila slipped out of the trunk. Her feet had barely hit the ground when the car started moving. She quickly ran toward a bus stop, hiding in case the bad men inside the car looked back.
When the car disappeared, she glanced around. She didn’t see any people. But there were buildings on either side of the road, kind of like in Cradle Mountain. And the streets on Cradle Mountain were sometimes empty, but if you walked around, you found people eventually.
Spotting an alley, she turned and started moving. She ran as fast as her legs would take her. She’d always been quick. Mama said she got her speed from Daddy. But then, Mama said she got a lot from Daddy.
Her eyes watered at the thought of Mama in that trunk. She hadn’t wanted to leave her alone with the bad men, but if she’d let Mama see how scared she was, it would upset her. Mama always got upset when she was sad or scared.
She sucked in a deep breath. She had to be strong. Strong and brave, at least until Daddy came. He’d get Mama back. Daddy was a superhero, like the ones she saw on TV. He was fast, and strong, and he saved people. She’d even heard kids at school talking about him and his friends and how cool everything he could do was.
She moved her legs faster, scrunching her nose at the smell of garbage. Gross. It reminded her of when Daddy didn’t take the trash out for a few days, something that never happened with Mama. She took the trash out every day at five o’clock on the dot. Mama liked things clean.
A scuffling noise sounded in the alley. Mila almost tripped over her own feet. The fear tried to rise in her chest again, but she clenched her fists, refusing to let it.
Daddy always said that fear was a logical reaction, but it didn’t help you in bad situations. Courage did.
Up ahead, she saw people walk past the alley. She heard some voices, too. Footsteps.
Her legs started to hurt with how fast she was moving. And her chest hurt a little too. But she didn’t slow down. She couldn’t. Mama needed her.
When she reached the street, she looked around, sucking in deep breaths.
Find someone and ask them to call Daddy.
Mama’s instructions replayed in her head. She scanned the street. Mrs. McCauliff had taught a lesson on safe strangers last month. Safe strangers were people in uniforms. Like police officers and fire fighters. Those were the people you should ask for help.
She scanned the street. There were two women holding bags and laughing as they walked down the sidewalk. There was a man on a phone, leaning against a car door. And there was a building with some men sitting around a table outside, drinking from cups.
She scrunched her dress with her hands. It was a nervous habit. Something she didn’t do a lot, only when no one was watching and she needed to keep her fingers busy.
Panic welled in her chest. There were no safe strangers.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Daddy always said when a decision is tough to trust your gut. Your gut was your tummy and when it felt bad about someone, you felt sick, but when someone made you feel good, it meant you could probably trust them.
When she opened her eyes again, she started walking down the street, scanning the few people again. Her steps were slow and careful.
When she drew closer to the men at the table, her feet stopped. One of the men was looking straight at her.
They were all big, just like Daddy and his friends. Big shoulders. Big arms. Long legs. The one who was looking at her had eyes a bit like Daddy’s. Not the same color, they weren’t gray. But there was something about them that reminded her of Daddy and his friends.
She pressed a hand to her tummy. Nope, no sick feeling.
For the first time since being taken from her car seat, Mila didn’t feel so panicked.
Jackson leaned back in his chair. The afternoon sun was shining, and he was back in his hometown with friends—brothers—who he hadn’t seen in over a year. He should feel good. Hell, he should be over the fucking moon.
He wasn’t. Because only two of his three brothers were here, and they would never see the third again. It felt like living in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
There was no talk around the table. Had barely been any talk between them since they’d all arrived in town. Because none of them knew what to goddamn say.
What did you say when a teammate died? What could you say?
Only a year ago, they’d been Delta Force Operators. Together, they’d made up a quadrant. A quadrant that would never be whole again.
“So this is where you and Ryker grew up,” Declan said, finally breaking the heavy silence that had been their constant companion all morning.
Not a surprise, it was Dec. He always was the bravest one of the group.
Jackson nodded, scanning the street outside the cafe. “Yep. Lindeman, Washington.” He had a memory in just about every damn corner of this town. Some good. Some downright shit. Almost all involving Ryker. “There was once a time I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Now I’d give my right fucking kidney to go back and have one more day here with him.”
Cole nodded. “I’d give up a kidney just to hear his voice.”
Jackson sucked in a deep breath. It was as painful as every other breath since getting that call. He went to take a sip of his coffee, but when he lifted the mug, the smell made his stomach churn, so he put it back down. He couldn’t seem to stomach anything right now.
Instead, his attention went back to the street. Looking. Watching. Like he was waiting for his friend to walk around the corner. Give him that big smile of his.
The street wasn’t busy, but then, it rarely was in this small town. The few people he’d seen continued where they were going with purpose.
What was it about being in pain that made you just expect the world to stop? For everyone to feel the same grief and gut-wrenching agony as you? He remembered looking out the window of his apartment after the call and being so angry that everyone was still going on with their lives, no one stopping or pausing, when his entire world was crashing down around him.
He gritted his teeth when two women laughed across the road. People whose lives hadn’t been altered forever.
Suddenly, his gaze stopped on a girl. She looked young…maybe four? Five? Her brows were tugged together and her face seemed a stone’s throw away from breaking.
He scanned the area around her, frowning. Where were her parents? Or a caregiver of any form? Was she alone?
His gaze shot back to her, and little details started to straighten his spine and tug at his instincts. The way her hair was disheveled. The way her hands scrunched the material of her dress, something he knew to be a nervous habit.
And then there was the way she scanned people, like she was searching for something. Or someone. And with every passing second, her expression became more anxious. More desperate.
When her gaze caught his, she paused, studying him in much the same way she had the few others on the street. Only this time, he didn’t see elevating anxiety. No, he saw…
Hope?
Dec and Cole were talking about something, but Jackson’s entire focus remained on the girl. Something was wrong. He didn’t need his fifteen years in the military to tell him that. And it wasn’t as simple as losing her mom in a crowd, not when the street was nearly empty.
The second she approached the table, his friends went silent.
Slowly, Jackson got off his seat, lowering to his haunches in front of her, making sure he was eye level. He knew he was intimidating at six-five, and the last thing he wanted was to scare the kid off when she so clearly needed help.
“Hi.” He tried to gentle his deep voice.
The girl’s gaze darted to his. “Hi. I’m Mila.”
Even though she looked nervous, her voice was clear and strong. Brave kid.
“I’m Jackson.” He smiled, tilted his head toward the guys. “These are my friends, Declan and Cole.”
She looked up, giving them both the same tiny smile she’d given him.
“Is your mom or dad around?” he asked, drawing her attention back to him.
For a second, her little face looked like it was going to crumple. The corners of her mouth wobbled and her brows lifted a fraction. But then she swallowed, shoulders going back. “My mama’s in trouble and I need to call Daddy to save her.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched, but he was careful to make sure he remained completely still. “I can call your dad. First, can you tell me what kind of trouble your mama’s in?”
Again, that same heartbroken expression crossed her face, but only for a second. “Bad men hit our car and put Mama and me in the trunk.”
Every muscle in Jackson’s body tensed.
“I think Flynn got hurt. He was driving us. And I think they did something to Mama, because she slept for a long time. When she woke up, I broke my zip-ties. Daddy taught me how. Mama told me to open the trunk but that she couldn’t get out. She told me to find someone to call Daddy. Mama thinks they’re taking her to a baseball game in Seattle.”
Rage heated his insides. Rage that this young girl actually may have been kidnapped. That her mother could still be in the hands of whatever scumbags had taken her. He felt the same rage bouncing off Dec and Cole, although they remained silent.
This is exactly why he’d joined the military all those years ago. To fight pure fucking evil.
He locked down the anger. “Can I see your wrists, sweetheart?”
She held up her arms. Gently, he pushed her sleeves back.
Sure enough, the skin was red and raw. She was telling the truth. She’d been bound.
Another flurry of anger crashed through his system. “You said your dad taught you how to break zip-ties?”
She nodded, locks of brown hair falling onto her face. “With a shoelace. He protects good people and fights bad people.”
He sounded military. “We’ve done a lot of that too, sweetheart. Do you have his number?”
Another nod. “I know the car color, and the numbers and letters on the back,” she added.
God. Such a smart kid.
“Let’s call your dad.”
