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Ransom
Terri Reed


“WE HAVE YOUR SISTER.”Liz Cantrell is terrified when she receives a call from a man holding her newlywed sister captive—and she’s convinced her sketchy brother-in-law’s involved. Willing to pay any price for her sister’s freedom, Liz flies to Niagara Falls with the ransom: an uncut diamond necklace worth millions. But the moment she lands, a handsome, world-weary Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent takes her into custody.Blake Fallon‘s determined to catch a ruthless diamond smuggler—and the pretty antique dealer trying to save her sister could be just the break his case needs. But as they team up to rescue Liz’s sister and trap the criminal mastermind, a desperate stand-off will threaten everything they hold precious—including their lives.Northern Border Patrol: Keeping the US-Canada border safe.







“WE HAVE YOUR SISTER.”

Liz Cantrell is terrified when she receives a call from a man holding her newlywed sister captive—and she’s convinced her sketchy brother-in-law’s involved. Willing to pay any price for her sister’s freedom, Liz flies to Niagara Falls with the ransom: an uncut diamond necklace worth millions. But the moment she lands, a handsome, world-weary Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent takes her into custody. Blake Fallon’s determined to catch a ruthless diamond smuggler—and the pretty antiques dealer trying to save her sister could be just the break his case needs. But as they team up to rescue Liz’s sister and trap the criminal mastermind, a desperate standoff will threaten everything they hold precious—including their lives.

Northern Border Patrol: Keeping the US-Canada border safe.


“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and get your sister back safely,” Blake answered.

Liz wanted to believe him. But her natural inclination to keep people at arm’s length fought needing to depend on him. But what choice did she have?

It was either go along with his plan or go to jail, which would be a death knell for her sister. Looked like she had only one option.

“Fine.” She clenched her jaw. “I’ll do it your way.”

“Good. You’ll have to follow my instructions to the letter if we are to succeed.”

Of course he’d say that. He struck her as a man who liked to be in control, to call the shots. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect my sister.”

A wave of fatigue crashed through Liz. Her shoulders drooped. She glanced at her watch. It was after midnight. She hadn’t eaten since the midmorning snack on the plane. She needed to find a hotel, but mostly she wanted to get away from this man. “Can I go now?”

Blake rose and picked up the box, tucking the necklace back inside. “I want you where we can protect you.”


TERRI REED’s romance and romantic suspense novels have appeared on Publishers Weekly top twenty-five and Nielsen BookScan’s top one hundred lists and have been featured in USA TODAY, Christian Fiction Magazine and RT Book Reviews. Her books have finaled in the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award contest, the National Reader’s Choice Award contest and three times in the American Christian Fiction Writers’ Carol Award contest. Contact Terri at terrireed.com (http://www.terrireed.com) or PO Box 19555, Portland, OR 97224.


Ransom

Terri Reed




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,

plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future.

—Jeremiah 29:11


To my family for always believing in me.


Contents

Cover (#u56d132af-c81c-53d2-890e-bcbdc1761d58)

Back Cover Text (#u4908d926-e6b9-5176-9ad9-d893bb88ffb4)

Introduction (#u14bb7516-7223-5c3b-ac2d-fb25a883dbef)

About the Author (#u6f4de2de-3236-5c84-afb5-f9f1b9e76691)

Title Page (#u0c3d9f9e-f956-58a5-8513-297662175340)

Bible Verse (#u76508d73-df66-566a-b53e-5fe74e77ce59)

Dedication (#u6a611bf1-e751-5edd-ac59-8708e46a39bb)

CHAPTER ONE (#u887582a3-a759-58ab-8014-bd626e629a1d)

CHAPTER TWO (#u6ad87876-2334-52a5-890f-206200fe1b80)

CHAPTER THREE (#u566f4512-10a7-5715-8903-169ad4e72e6b)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#ulink_201f354c-4b17-5b31-88ad-03a52de3c0ac)

A crash from her sister’s bedroom brought Liz Cantrell bolt upright on the couch. She was alone in the apartment she shared with her sister and had been seated with her feet tucked beneath her, trying hard to be interested in the movie on the television with no success. She muted the sound and listened.

A floorboard creaked.

No way was that from the blustery January wind outside her second-story apartment.

Someone was definitely in Jillian’s room.

Alarm flooded Liz’s veins.

“Please, Lord,” she whispered as she fumbled to grab her phone from her sweatpants’ pocket.

A thud and then a man’s deep growl jolted her into action.

No time to call for help. She had to get out of there. Fast. She jumped to her feet and hurried to open the apartment door. The hinge squeaked as loud as a shotgun blast.

Thunder rumbled through the apartment.

Not thunder, but feet. A tall figure, wearing a plastic masquerade mask like those worn at Mardi Gras time and dressed all in black, rushed out of Jillian’s room. He had Jillian’s big burl-wood jewelry box—thankfully not their mother’s special jewelry box—in his gloved hands, spilling the contents of Jillian’s costume jewelry on the floor as he ran toward Liz.

Adrenaline fueled her fear. She whirled away and ran for the stairs leading to her family’s antique shop, her slippers snagging on the old carpet. The walls of the stairwell seemed to close in on her. She hated dark, confined spaces.

She pushed through her anxiety to scuttle down the stairs as fast as she could. The man came after her, breathing down her neck like a monster from a horror flick, adding to the fear tightening her chest and constricting her throat.

Before she reached the bottom of the staircase, the burglar grabbed a handful of her hair. With a painful jerk, he brought her to a halt and pushed her face-first against the stairwell wall. Pain exploded in her cheek and radiated through her head. Would he kill her? She squeezed her eyes tight, tensing her body in preparation to fight back and sent up an urgent prayer. God, help me! Help me, please.

“Where’s the necklace?” her attacker growled in her ear. His hot, stale breath made her gag.

“What?” Liz struggled to process what was happening. Why had this man broken into her home? What was he talking about? “What necklace?”

“Come on, Jillian, Travis bragged to me he’d lifted it from Santini’s shipment to give to you. Since Travis is so stupid to not keep his mouth shut, he doesn’t deserve it. And neither does Santini, the pig.” He pressed his weight into her, his knee jamming into her thigh, his elbow crammed into her back at the tender spot below her ribs. “Give it to me or I’ll kill you!”

His words beat into her, almost paralyzing her with terror. He thought she was Jillian. What would the man do when he realized she wasn’t Jillian but rather her sister? Kill her, then go after Jillian? She couldn’t let that happen. She had to protect her little sister.

Stark terror spurred her to action. She kicked her heel back hard and connected with his shin, eliciting a grunt. She followed with a backward elbow jab to his sternum just as her godfather, the town sheriff, had taught her when she was in high school.

The assailant’s hold loosened. She grasped her hair and yanked the clump free from his hand, ignoring the biting pain of strands being ripped from her head. She fled down the remaining stairs into the dark store. He chased after her.

The street lamp outside provided enough light for her to navigate through the antiques filling every square space of the shop her father had bequeathed to her and her sister.

She knocked over a short bookcase filled with rare first editions, hoping to slow her attacker for fear he’d catch her before she could escape.

She made it to the front door and flipped the latch. The door unlocked with a click that was drowned out by her shallow breathing. Opening the door would trigger the silent alarm and send the authorities. With a vicious push, she burst out of the store into the frigid night air, nearly bowling over an older couple walking a big Rottweiler. The dog strained against his leash and barked.

“Help me, please!” She grasped at the older man’s arm.

While the couple stood there, mouths agape, she caught a glimpse of the masked man as he barreled out the door onto the sidewalk. He paused for a fraction of a second, his gaze landing on the Rottweiler. He backed up as his gaze jumped to Liz and the elderly couple. With an audible rumble of frustration, he bolted in the opposite direction and disappeared down the darkened street.

A whoosh of relief gushed through her, followed closely by an invading sense of violation. The man had broken into her home and assaulted her. Why was he searching for the mysterious necklace? Neither she nor her sister owned anything of value. He’d said Travis had lifted it—stolen, he meant. Liz had never thought much of Travis from the moment Jillian had brought him home to meet her.

“Oh, my,” the gray-haired elderly woman exclaimed. “We should call the police.”

The older man patted his pockets. “I don’t have my phone with me.”

“I do,” Liz said just as the jangle of her cell phone in her sweatpants’ pocket startled her. With shaky hands, she fished the device out and glanced at the caller ID.

Jillian.

Liz’s heart jumped. An icy rush of dread washed over her. After the harrowing experience of the break-in, Liz’s imagination took flight with all sorts of horrific scenarios.

She pressed the answer button. “Jillian?”

“Lizzie, I need you to do something for me.” Jillian’s voice came over the line with a definite quiver.

Every nerve ending in Liz’s body alerted, ready to do whatever was needed to help her baby sister. “Are you okay?”

“I need you to bring me Mom’s jewelry box. It’s tucked into the bottom drawer of my dresser.”

“What’s going on, Jillian? Some man just broke in—”

“Lizzie, listen to me. I need you to do this.” Jillian’s sharp tone was so out of character. Pleading, wheedling and coaxing was more her style. Something was definitely wrong.

“Jillian, Travis is mixed—”

Jillian’s yelp cut Liz off. The sound of a scuffle on the other end of the line terrified her.

“Jillian!”

“Listen up,” a deep male voice said into Liz’s ear, sending a shiver of fear down her spine. “If you ever want to see your sister again, alive, you’ll bring the necklace to Fort George by noon Monday. Come alone. No police, or your sister and her no-good husband are dead.”

Panic revved in her blood. “Who is this? What have you done to my sister?”

The click of the call disconnecting slammed into Liz. Her mind raced. Her first instinct was to dial 911. To seek help from the authorities. Sheriff Ward had always counseled them to come to him if they were ever in trouble. This certainly counted as trouble.

No police, the man had said.

Jillian’s life was in danger. Jillian needed Liz to act on the promise Liz had made to their father on his deathbed.

Watch over your little sister, Lizzie, girl, he’d said. You’re the level-headed one. She’s going to need you.

Now more than ever Jillian needed Liz.

Liz dialed Jillian’s phone, but it went straight to voice mail. What did that mean? Fear clawed up her throat.

She called the hotel where Jillian and Travis were staying and had the desk clerk ring the honeymoon couple’s room, but there was no answer. Liz forced down her panic, knowing if ever there was a time to be calm and clearheaded, it was now.

She refused to think the worst. Not yet anyway. She had a deadline to make. Her sister’s life depended on it.

* * *

Liz flexed her fingers on the armrests of her seat as the plane dipped with turbulence as it made its approach to her destination. She didn’t like flying, in fact, didn’t enjoy leaving the island at all. She’d gone off to college at her father’s urging, only going as far as Charleston. And that had seemed miles away from the serene island home that Liz loved. She’d returned home for good two years later when Dad had had his heart attack.

But for her sister’s sake, Liz was heading north to bring the ransom to free her sister.

Last night, after convincing the sheriff she was okay, she’d spent the rest of the night locked in the downstairs office at the back of the store. She hadn’t wanted to take a chance on the intruder returning to find her even though the sheriff had promised a car would patrol the neighborhood.

She’d felt so guilty not confiding to him that Jillian had been kidnapped. But she couldn’t risk her sister’s life.

Staring out the oval plane window, she could see the white world outside as the plane descended toward the runway in Buffalo, New York. She couldn’t appreciate the snowy scenic view with her mind racing ahead with all that she needed to do.

Anxiousness made her antsy as she filed out of the plane and up the jet bridge along with everyone else. The frigid air seeping in from outside made her glad she’d worn her thick fleece-lined down jacket. Still, the chilly air finding its way through the collar of her coat sent a shudder through her. This was a different kind of cold than she was used to. It was biting, like the air had teeth and wanted to sink into her all the way to the bone.

As she exited the jet bridge into the welcome warmth of the terminal, two men stepped into her path. She barely glanced at them before sidestepping, but they followed her move and blocked her exit.

Irritated by the rude behavior, she ground out, “Excuse me.”

“Elizabeth Cantrell?”

The deep, smooth voice that hinted at an American Southern drawl stopped her in her tracks. Her attention snapped to the men. How did they know her name?

Both men were tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, yet very different. One had jet-black hair and looked to be of Native American descent. His warm brown eyes regarded her with curiosity. He was dressed in jeans, a warm winter jacket and boots still dusted with snow.

However, the other man’s obsidian gaze wasn’t warm or curious. He stared at her with such accusation that she took a step back. He wore a wool trench coat buttoned all the way up to the collar and black slacks and black shoes that didn’t look nearly warm enough for the weather. His dark brown hair was short and tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through the strands several times. If she weren’t so freaked out, she’d have found him handsome, but at the moment all she felt was annoyed and scared and intimidated. A combination that made her body tense.

“I’m Liz Cantrell. What do you want?” She hated that her voice trembled. Were these men sent from the man who had her sister? But how would the man know which plane she was on? A creeping sensation skated over her neck. She was being watched?

The man with curious eyes said softly, “Canada Border Services, ma’am.”

What? A panicked flutter started low in her tummy.

“US federal agent,” the other said in a low tone. “Come with us.”

Neither man wore any identifying logos. Caution told her not to trust them. Wariness crept into her voice. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

The federal agent pushed aside his coat just far enough to reveal his gold shield. Then he slid his coat back into place.

A fresh wave of panic washed over her. These men were law enforcement. She couldn’t go with them. To do so would jeopardize her sister’s life. The man on the phone had told her not to involve the police or he’d kill Jillian and Travis.

She searched for an exit but realized the men had boxed her in. Even if she attempted to run, she wouldn’t get very far and would only draw attention to herself. To them. What did they want with her? “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The two men shared a glance, then the federal agent stepped to her side and gripped her by the elbow. His big hand was firm but gentle. His woodsy scent surrounded her in such contrast to his cold and accusing demeanor.

“This way, Miss Cantrell,” the CBS officer said.

Despite not wanting to attract attention, every instinct in her screamed she shouldn’t acquiesce. The man on the phone had told her no police. But these men couldn’t know that. And if they knew she had been on this flight, then that meant the kidnapper could also have eyes on her.

“Please, you have to let me go.” She dug in her heels but couldn’t keep the two men from surreptitiously forcing her to move forward.

“Wait.” Her voice rose. She winced. It wouldn’t do to show her panic. She collected herself and continued in a hiss, “Where are you taking me?”

They ignored her question and led her away from curious gazes and through a door discreetly situated behind a kiosk. They went down a long hallway. Terror gripped her. Where were they taking her? What would they do with her? To her? What would happen to Jillian? She sent up a silent plea to God for help.

She struggled to free herself but her captors wouldn’t let go. The long corridor seemed endless. The tight wall too close. Another door was pushed open, and she was thrust inside a small room that held a metal table and two chairs on either side. High in the corner a red light blinked on a camera. She was in an interrogation room, one like she’d seen on countless television shows.

A ripple of anxiety coursed through her veins, making her blood turn to ice. Why were they detaining her? How long would this take? What if the man holding her sister hostage found out? What if they took the ransom?

“We’ll be right with you,” the CBS officer said before shutting the door and locking her inside.

The faint smell of antibacterial cleaner burned her nostrils. She hated to contemplate the many germs that had contaminated the room. It wasn’t that she was a germophobe per se. But she couldn’t afford to catch a sickness now. Not when her sister’s life was in jeopardy.

Hysteria bubbled up at the ridiculous direction her brain went. A coping mechanism? The walls closed in on her making her skin crawl with desperation.

Frantic to escape, she looked for a possible exit besides the locked door. A window high in the wall was the only possibility. Pulling her jacket sleeves over her hands for protection against picking up bacteria or a virus, she tugged at the table but it wouldn’t budge. The feet had been bolted to the floor. Using the sleeve of her jacket, she dragged the chair over to the wall below the window and stepped up. Unfortunately, she still couldn’t reach the window. So much for escaping. She pounded a fist against the wall, the pain barely registering in her desperate mind.

She jumped down and wedged herself into the corner. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she prayed with everything in her. She’d been entrusted by their father to keep her sister out of trouble. She hadn’t done a very good job this time. Thinking back over the many times Liz had had to bail Jillian out of one scrape or another made this latest folly that much worse. Jillian was an adult, but her judgment and maturity hadn’t caught up to the number of candles on her last birthday cake.

Dad would be so disappointed. But Liz solemnly vowed to her father’s memory that she would do whatever it took to save her sister.

* * *

US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent Blake Fallon watched the woman on the video screen. Elizabeth Cantrell. Or Liz, as she’d been clear to correct him.

Her DMV picture didn’t do her justice. Her honey-colored hair draped loosely about her shoulders, and her thick-lashed blue-green eyes reminded him of the Caribbean. The puffy, knee-length jacket hid her figure except for slender, jean-encased legs. The red color of her outerwear highlighted the pink in her cheeks.

His lips had twitched when she’d tried to reach the window. Good for her for at least trying. She was going to need to be brave and brash for what he had planned. He hoped she had the mental and physical mettle to help him bring down an international criminal.

“Here we go,” Canada Border Service officer Nathanial Longhorn said as he entered the room.

Blake and Nathanial served together on one of many joint teams consisting of various law enforcement agencies between the United States and Canada called Integrated Border Enhancement Teams—IBETs for short. Other members of their team were working to find the illegal contraband smuggler Idris Santini’s far-flung bases of operation in Canada, the United States and Venezuela.

Santini was like a cloud of smoke, visible one moment, then disappearing the next. But now Blake had a viable lead. A way of drawing Santini out into the open where Blake and his team would snag him in a tight net, like the dangerous critter he was. But to do so, Blake would need Liz’s cooperation. He’d get it by any means possible.

Nathanial lugged Miss Cantrell’s suitcase onto the table next to the video feed and popped open the lid. Nestled inside between Liz’s clothing was a small wooden jewelry box. Roses and a hummingbird decorated the lid and sides. It was delicate and appeared old. A family heirloom?

So far Blake’s information from his confidential informant inside the Santini organization had proved correct—a woman named Elizabeth Cantrell was planning to bring contraband for Santini into Canada via the border crossing in Buffalo, New York.

Blake snagged the jewelry box and lifted the lid. The rough stone necklace he’d been told about lay at the bottom of the box. He breathed out a relieved breath and untangled the necklace, then stretched it out on the table.

Nathanial snorted. “That’s it? Huh. Not what I pictured.”

The stones weren’t pretty and sparkly like polished, cut diamonds, but were still ill-gotten gains from the blood and sweat of people forced into labor in horrible mining conditions in a developing nation. “These gemstones may not look like much, but each one, when polished and cut, will be worth millions. There’s a rumor the head of Venezuela’s most violent gang had the necklace fashioned for his wife as an anniversary gift. Santini won’t get paid if he doesn’t produce the necklace before the date.”

Nathanial whistled. “No wonder Santini’s so hot to get his hands on it.”

“Yes.” Acid churned in Blake’s gut at the thought of Idris Santini. A man who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Santini and his syndicate of smugglers funded an illegal mining operation in Venezuela. Though the authorities had tried unsuccessfully on numerous occasions to shut down the mine, Santini either bought off or killed anyone who endeavored to thwart him.

A joint effort between the IBETs and the current Venezuelan government had tracked Santini’s latest shipment to Miami, then to Canada. But by the time the IBETs team had the intel, the goods and Santini had disappeared.

Until today. Word was that a single, valuable piece had supposedly been stolen by one of his lower level minions to give as a gift to the man’s unwitting fiancée. Blake’s informant on the inside stated that Santini had personally abducted not only his man but the man’s new wife, Ms. Cantrell’s sister, and were holding the couple hostage in exchange for the necklace.

Thus Liz Cantrell was making the trek north.

That the woman hadn’t panicked but had followed the kidnapper’s instructions spoke to her determination. But not involving the police was pure recklessness. Liz Cantrell was no match for the likes of Santini.

Blake’s gut twisted. He hated to think what would happen to Liz and her sister if he didn’t intercede.

After swiping the necklace from the table Blake stuffed it back into the jewelry box, then headed into the interrogation room.

Liz had her back propped against the wall, her arms around her torso as if holding herself together. Her gaze lifted from the floor to him. Her pale complexion and frightened eyes tugged at him. He didn’t make a habit of intentionally scaring women. But he had to make sure she was malleable so when the time came she’d follow his directions without question. If the need arose her compliance could be the difference between life and death.

Her gaze dropped to the box in his hands. “That’s mine.” She pushed away from the wall. “You opened my suitcase.”

He set the box on the table. “That’s what happens when you carry undocumented diamonds.”

She made a face. “Diamonds? What are you talking about?”

He narrowed his focus on her. Did she really not know? Or was she playing him? His informant inside Santini’s operation said she was an innocent pawn.

Maybe.

Blake rarely trusted anyone. Let alone a man willing to sell out his boss.

Or most women.

In his experience women in general made the best liars and broke their promises much too easily. Truth and fidelity were moving targets, not hard and fast ideals.

But they were ideals that he honored.

He’d let himself be sucked in before by a woman to only be disappointed and hurt when the inevitable happened. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Instead he took to heart his father’s motto, never let your guard down.

He shook off the memories scratching at his mind. The here and now needed his attention. Santini was the objective. And this woman standing before him was the means to an end. Nothing more.

Blake had pressed his informant for Santini’s location, but the man was more afraid of Santini than Blake. It was one thing to report a goods transaction and an entirely different one to give the cops Santini’s whereabouts. The informant had bolted, and Blake hadn’t heard from him since. But at least Blake had Liz Cantrell. She would lead him to Santini.

Lifting the lid, Blake grasped the diamond necklace, holding it up for her to see. “This.”

Her eyes widened. “Those are just rocks.”

“No, Miss Cantrell, they aren’t.” He dropped the necklace. It landed on the table with a clatter. Twelve stones, held together by thin gold wire. “Those are uncut diamonds. Illegally trafficked from the mines of Venezuela.”

She shook her head. “No.” A hand flew to her throat. “Oh, no.” Anger clouded her eyes. “Those aren’t mine.”

“Are you telling me you’re carrying them for a friend?” He tsked and shook his head. “Not the smartest move.”

Her lip curled. “You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She lifted her chin but remained mute. He had to give her props. She had a spine of steel so far. He didn’t know many who’d face him with such bravado, especially women.

He waited, letting the silence draw out. Her expressive eyes revealed her inner turmoil. She was struggling to keep from talking but something held her back.

Was she also more afraid of Santini than Blake?

Picking up the necklace, Blake said, “I’d hate to think you were caught up in something that might land you in jail. Or worse.”

She shivered and licked her lips. “May I have some water, please?”

A stall tactic. It wouldn’t do her any good to put off telling him what he wanted to know, but he nodded. A moment later, Nathanial brought in a small cup filled with water. Liz drank it down as if she was dying of thirst in a vast desert.

Nathanial left the room.

Deciding to try a different approach, Blake sat, giving her the illusion of authority. “We’re here to help you, Ms. Cantrell. All you need to do is trust us.”

“I wish I could,” she whispered.

Ah, her resolve was weakening. Maybe another little nudge. “If you work with us, then there’s less likelihood of going to jail.”

“I have to leave,” she said with an urgency that sent an alert to his senses.

“What’s the rush?” He steepled his hands. “Are you meeting a buyer for the stones?”

Shaking her head, she insisted, “No, it’s not like that.”

She was close to caving. He would get what he wanted from her. “The only way you get out of here is by cooperating. Tell me what it is like. And tell me the truth.”

Rubbing at her temples, she said, “I can’t. He said no police. He’ll kill my sister.”

So his informant was correct. An innocent woman’s life was in danger. Now more than ever he needed Liz’s assistance. “The only way to get your sister back safely is if you tell me everything.”

When she remained stubbornly silent, he reined in his frustration and pushed harder at her with his words. “You see how this is a sticky situation for you?” Blake nodded to the necklace. “You’ve been caught red-handed with illegal contraband. We could arrest you and put you in jail.”

Her eyes grew round with panic. “No, if you do that my sister is dead.”

He felt no satisfaction in threatening her. “Then cooperate with me.”

A pained expression crossed her face, then she seemed to come to a decision. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and met his gaze again, showing her spunk in the way her eyes sparked. “My sister married a man who is mixed up in something bad. Something that neither Jillian nor I have anything to do with. Now she’s been kidnapped.” She glanced at the stones on the table. “Those are her ransom. If I don’t deliver them to—” she frowned but there was no mistaking the unshed tears filling her eyes “—to Fort George by noon tomorrow, he’ll kill her.”

Anticipation revved in his veins. “Who is he?”

She wiped at an escaped tear. “I don’t know,” she ground out. “We didn’t exchange pleasantries.”

She stepped closer, her pretty face taking on a pleading expression that jabbed at Blake. He fought off the sensation. He couldn’t let her get to him. He wouldn’t be that weak. His job was his life. And he wouldn’t let anything interfere with his job. Especially not a beautiful, gutsy woman, no matter how much respect she stirred in him.

“Please, you have to let me go. My sister’s life depends on me giving that stupid necklace back.”

“I could charge you with smuggling or even terrorism,” Blake stated, gauging her reaction. Her distress appeared sincere. But he had to be sure. He had to know she wasn’t involved. That she wasn’t lying to him.

Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She seemed to be reeling in her temper. “I’d never laid eyes on that necklace until last night. Apparently, my sister’s new husband gave her the necklace.” She slashed the air with her hand. “A man broke into my apartment looking for it. He said Travis stole it from someone named Santini. And now some madman has threatened to kill Jillian if I don’t give him the necklace.”

“Santini is a madman. A dangerous madman.” Deciding he’d pushed enough and needed to proceed with a more gentle manner, he motioned to the chair. “Have a seat, Ms. Cantrell.” He purposely softened his tone. “May I call you Liz?”

Slowly, she sank onto the edge of the chair, poised as if she’d bolt at any second. He reluctantly admired her grit. “That’s fine.”

He studied her for a moment, appreciating the delicate line of her jaw and the high jut of her cheekbones. She was really a striking woman. But not in a made-up or pretentious way. Her attractiveness was natural and came from within her. He’d read the dossier on her and knew she ran an antique store left to her by her deceased father. If this were a different situation, he’d want to know more about her. Did she like antiques? Or was she keeping her father’s dream alive at the expense of her own? And what did this woman dream about? Who was she deep down inside?

A fighter. He knew that for certain.

Shaking off the uncharacteristic musing, he said, “I’m Blake. Agent Blake Fallon with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. It’s my job to help secure the northern border of our country from illegal activities. Activities that Santini engages freely in. Do you understand?”

“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen. Normally, I wouldn’t... I have never broken the law.”

Appreciating her attempt at defending herself, he kept his tone soft as he said, “Liz, I do want to help you.”

She scrunched up her nose in obvious confusion. He was momentarily distracted by the cute motion.

“You’ll help me?” she asked. “How?”

He took no triumph in having her right where he wanted her. If they were going to see this through, he needed her to be willing to do what he asked of her. “You’ll need to help me, too.”

Her eyes narrowed in wariness. “What do I have to do?”

Valuing her caution, he placed his palms on the table to keep from curling his fingers into fists. The burn of anger at Santini simmered below the surface, ready to boil any moment. “Help me bring down Idris Santini.”

A little V appeared between her eyebrows. “Who is this Santini character?”

Blake’s fingers dug into the table. “A very bad man. He killed a fellow ICE agent in cold blood.”

Sympathy flooded her eyes. Blake tried to look away but couldn’t. Her gaze pulled him in, made him want to make her understand the magnitude of the situation. “Our intel had put him at the docks in New Jersey. Liam and I were the closest agents. I was in Manhattan, and Liam was in Atlantic City. Liam arrived first and, without back up, tried to prevent Santini from boarding a freighter. When I arrived Santini had Liam on his knees. I watched the man put a bullet in the back of Liam’s head and toss him off the side of the pier like garbage.” Blake’s fingers curled into tight fists. “Liam should have waited for me.”

“Would you have waited for him?”

The question so quietly asked had the power of a chainsaw and ripped through him, forcing him to confront a truth he hadn’t wanted to face. “No. I would have done the same.”

“And then you’d be the one dead.”

Acid burned in his gut. He wanted to believe he wouldn’t have let Santini get the drop on him. But Liam was the best there was. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, her voice gentle.

He leaned forward. “And now Santini is threatening the life of your sister and her husband. We need to work together to bring him to justice and rescue your sister.”

Blake vowed to take Santini down if it was the last thing he did. And this woman was the key to Blake’s revenge and redemption. He just needed her cooperation.

“Why should I trust you?” Liz asked with skepticism lacing each word.

Blake stared her in the eye and flattened his hands on the table. “You have no choice if you want to see your sister again. In order for us to succeed, we have to trust each other.”


TWO (#ulink_678b8bc4-dae3-558f-a0c8-4ee9728209d7)

No choice.

Staring at the man across the metal table in the interrogation room, Liz clenched her jaw until her teeth ached.

ICE agent Blake Fallon.

He took the acronym to a whole new level. She didn’t doubt ice ran in his veins. Waves of tension rolled off him, adding to her own anxiety. And yet he watched her with measured patience as if he had all the time in the world. There wasn’t an extra ounce of fat to him, no softness whatsoever. His lean frame and wide shoulders blocked her view of not only the door but also the exit. He had a strong jawline, defined cheekbones and eyes so dark she could see her reflection.

Could he see how terrified she was? Did he even care? She knew that wasn’t fair. His story of his friend’s death left an impression. He blamed himself for something that was out of his control. Most likely he thought he could have prevented the tragedy. She had a feeling control was important to him.

And he wanted her to trust him because he said so.

Well, that wasn’t how trust worked. He had to prove himself trustworthy if he wanted her to believe that he could help her. Because from where she was sitting, it appeared as if he wanted to intimidate her into doing whatever he wanted her to do. To bring down Santini. A man who had murdered his friend. And now held her sister captive.

Under normal circumstances, if a man had acted so domineering she’d be out the door and on her way without a backward glance.

But these weren’t normal circumstances.

And Agent Blake Fallon wasn’t just any man. He was the man who held the power to free her sister.

Did he know about the other man who had threatened to kill Liz if she didn’t hand over the necklace?

Jillian’s new, no-good, rotten husband had put Jillian and Liz in danger, not to mention himself. Poor Jillian. Liz prayed she wasn’t too heartbroken to learn Travis wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. Unfortunately, he was the kind of man Liz feared he’d be. Calculated, conniving, a thief.

She blew out an angry breath and forced back the fear that lurked at the edges of her mind. She had to be sensible and think this all through.

One mistake could cost Jillian her life. That wasn’t a risk Liz was willing to take. She grew hot beneath her jacket. She unzipped it and let the sides flop open to allow for the mild air of the interrogation room to swirl over her, cooling her thoughts as well as her overheated body.

“You didn’t answer me,” she intoned with a good measure of annoyance she couldn’t hold back. “What do you want me to do?”

He arched one dark eyebrow.

She grimaced. “Besides trust you, that is.”

For a second amusement danced in his eyes, and she thought he might smile. But no. Just as quickly his stoic expression slid back into place, making the angles and planes of his face hard and unyielding. It must have been her wishful thinking that the man had some other mode besides stony.

“We both want the same thing,” he said in a slow measured tone. “Santini.”

She sat up straighter. “I want my sister back. Unharmed.”

Those were two different agendas.

He inclined his head, acknowledging her words. “That’s a given and obviously my priority. But until we bring down Santini, there’s no guarantee you’ll get your sister back. Unharmed.”

His response made her stomach clench with apprehension. She wanted to deny the truth in his words. But judging by where she was sitting and who was glaring at her across a cold, hard table, she figured he probably knew more about Santini and situations like this than she did. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. Or him.

“He told me no police or he’d kill her,” she pointed out.

“Let me worry about that.”

Right. Like that was going to happen. “You still haven’t told me what I need to do.”

“You’ll make the drop like Santini demanded. Only we’ll have people everywhere. When Santini shows up to pick up the necklace, we’ll nab him.”

“That’s your plan?” she asked. The man appeared intelligent, but maybe he had rocks for brains. Great. Not inspiring a lot of trust right now. “I don’t think this Santini guy is going to be dumb enough to walk into a trap. At the very least he’ll send someone to make the pickup.”

“You’re right, he’s not dumb.” Blake’s fingers stretched against the scarred metal table. His jaw hardened. “He’s a smart, crafty criminal. But he’s also greedy. Do you have any idea how much that necklace is worth?”

“No.”

Again he raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say your travel insurance wouldn’t have covered it if your luggage had been lost.”

She swallowed. “How much money?”

“To give you an idea of their potential worth, recently a vivid blue diamond sold for twenty-four million.”

The staggering amount left her breathless. “That necklace has two...”

“Exactly. Santini won’t risk letting another minion snatch it out from under him again. He has a buyer standing by. There’s a lot of money at stake. I know Santini. He’s greedy and arrogant. He’ll come for it himself.” He held her gaze, his dark eyes compelling and unfathomable. She grew uncomfortable beneath that stare, yet she couldn’t look away. “And he doesn’t know we have you. Nor will he know you’re working with us.”

Blake sounded so confident. But she wasn’t convinced. She needed him to assure her because he was asking her to place her life and her sister’s life in his care. He said Jillian’s release was his priority. Was that true or just lip service to get her to acquiesce to his plans? “How can you be sure Santini doesn’t have spies in your department? On your team? Men following me? You say you’ve been after him but unable to catch him. Have you ever considered the reason might be someone in your organization is working with Santini?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Believe me I’ve thought of every possibility. I’ve had everyone involved in Santini’s case carefully vetted. This IBETs operation is small for a reason. I’ve handpicked each member. There is no way any one of them would betray the team.”

She wanted to believe him. There was something in his tone that spoke of his determination and frustration. Despite his best effort to control the circumstances, he couldn’t. Santini somehow managed to evade capture time and again. And for a man like ICE agent Blake Fallon that had to be driving him mad. “Do you know who the man was that broke into my apartment last night?”

“No. Unfortunately, he wasn’t on our radar until after we found out about him attacking you.” He didn’t sound pleased. “Now that we know he’s involved and on the trail of the necklace, we’ll be on the lookout for him. Did you get a good look at him?

“No. He wore a mask and it was dark. Don’t you know what he looks like? How is he connected to Travis? To Jillian?” She shuddered, remembering the vile man’s voice and the way he’d grabbed her. She thought for certain he would hurt her. “He threatened to kill me, thinking I was Jillian.”

“The best we can surmise is this man wants to usurp Santini’s throne. My informant gave me a name, Ken Odin, but we can’t find him in any databases.”

The thought that there were two men out there that wanted to do her and Jillian harm had her pulse picking up speed. She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. “He claimed Travis bragged about stealing the necklace from Santini.”

“I doubt Travis understood the magnitude of what he’d taken from his boss. If he’d had any idea the value of the necklace or the trouble that would come down on his head, I doubt he’d have stolen it. Unless he really is that reckless.” Blake steepled his hands. “But because he did steal it we have an opportunity to use the situation to our advantage.”

Which brought them back to the plan where Blake hoped to lure Santini out into the open and capture him. “So I go to Fort George with the necklace to wait for Santini.”

Blake gave a short nod. “Yes.”

She’d never done anything dangerous before. She’d lived her life following the rules, making sure everyone had what they needed and picking up the slack where she could. Putting herself deliberately in harm’s way went against her own sense of self-preservation. But for Jillian she had to. And she had to rely on this man to protect her. “And you’ll be close by watching, right?”

His expression softened slightly. “Yes.”

The small glimpse of consideration, of compassion, didn’t assure her, instead it made her heart beat too fast and her mouth turn to cotton. It was clear he knew what he was asking of her was dangerous and yet, he still asked. And she had no choice but to confront her fears and do what needed to be done. For her sister’s sake. And for her own. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she hadn’t done all she could to rescue her sister. She swallowed, trying to find her voice again. “If I don’t cooperate with you, I’ll be arrested.” The thought of jail terrified her. She didn’t want to go to prison. If she were incarcerated, who would save her sister? “Is that, right?”

“Yes.” His frown wasn’t a scowl but more troubled, which made her wonder if he wasn’t as happy at the prospect as she’d have thought.

Maybe he wasn’t as cold as he’d like her to believe. But then again, he was asking her to risk her life by following his plan. Was she crazy to trust him? Did she trust him? She smoothed her hand over her denim-clad thighs. “What happens if he doesn’t bring my sister to the fort?”

He didn’t flinch. His expression hardened. She hadn’t thought it possible. His jaw must ache with tension. “When we have him in custody, we’ll get her whereabouts from him.”

A sour taste settled on her tongue. That wasn’t very reassuring. “What if Santini doesn’t show up?”

“Then we’ll follow whoever does take the necklace.” His words held a thread of impatience that hadn’t been there before. Was he not used to anyone questioning him? “They will lead us to Santini.”

“And to my sister,” she reminded him with a good dose of her own hardness infusing her voice.

He nodded and visibly seemed to check himself. The impatience dissipated to be replaced with a placating look that grated on her nerves. “We have every intention of recovering your sister.”

His words should have assured her even if his expression infuriated her, but the way he said recover made her think the worst. A chill scraped across her flesh. The cold, harsh room seemed to close in on her, stirring up old fears to mingle with new ones. How had her life come to this? What should she do? How did she save her sister?

Please, Lord, don’t let anything bad happen to Jillian. Give me wisdom. And the courage to act. “What will happen to her husband, Travis?”

“He’ll be arrested along with Santini’s other men.”

Jillian would be devastated. Liz would help her through her disappointment, and they would go home together to resume their lives, hopefully putting this whole ordeal behind them.

“What if Santini figures out you’re there?” A shudder rippled through her as possible scenarios played through her mind. She’d be an easy target if Santini decided to eliminate her. And her sister. “Can you guarantee my safety? My sister’s safety?”

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and get your sister back safely,” Blake answered, his voice low, resolute.

His determination rang through. He believed what he said, but could she? Could she put her life in his hands? Did she have faith enough to rely on someone else? Her natural inclination to keep people at arm’s length fought her need to depend on him. Depending on anyone was such a foreign concept. Did she have it in her to do so? What choice did she have?

It was either go along with his plan or go to jail, which would be a death knell for her sister. It looked as if she had only one option. A hard option for her. It would require her to dig deep to find the necessary will to trust, to count on this man.

“Fine.” She clenched her jaw, mirroring the way he’d gritted his teeth earlier. The accompanying ache had her pressing her lips together to relieve the pressure before saying, “I’ll do it your way.”

A flash of relief crossed his handsome face. Had he really thought she wouldn’t cooperate, given he’d threatened to arrest her?

“Good.” His tone wasn’t nearly as sharp as it had been before. “You’ll have to follow my instructions to the letter if we are to succeed.”

Of course he’d say that. His words confirmed her assessment that he was a man who liked to be in control, to call the shots. Well, she had a dose of that, as well. She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect my sister.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

His voice vibrated with respect. The odd turnaround had her mind spinning. He approved of her standing up to him? For some reason that pleased her and irritated her at the same time. Had he been baiting her to see if she’d fold under the pressure?

She hadn’t. At least, not yet. She was too worried for her sister’s well-being. When this was over and they were both safe, then she’d collapse. But not in front of Blake Fallon. That would be not only humiliating and degrading, it would let him know that her bravado was just that—bravado, manufactured and fragile. But she would be brave. She had to prove to Blake, to herself, that she had the mettle to see this ordeal through. Only with God’s help could she do it.

A wave of fatigue crashed through her. Her shoulders drooped. She glanced at her watch. They’d been here for a long time. She hadn’t eaten since the midmorning snack on the plane. She needed to find a hotel, but mostly she wanted to get away from this confusing man. “Can I go now?”

Blake rose and picked up the box, tucking the necklace back inside. “I’ll escort you to a safe house.”

Oh, goodie. Not. She would rather go alone. Then she wouldn’t have these confusing and conflicting thoughts about the agent. “I’ll find a hotel, thank you.”

“Not happening.” His tone was adamant. “I want you where we can protect you.”

Despite how irritating she found him, she couldn’t deny that having some protection eased some of her anxiety. She’d be stupid not to accept. She’d already agreed to his plan, she now had to find it within herself to allow him to protect her in every way. That included her accommodations.

“Fine. You can be in charge of where I stay.” She rose and held out her hand. “My box, please.”

She wasn’t going to let the box or the necklace out of her sight. The necklace was her only bargaining chip and the box’s sentimental value was worth more to Liz than the price of the uncut diamonds.

He hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable letting her take ownership of the priceless bauble, before placing her mother’s jewelry box on her palm. Her fingers closed around the wood, feeling the carvings dig into her flesh. Liz traced a finger over the roses carved into the side. A wave of sadness washed through her as she held the box in her shaking hands. She missed her mother so much. Liz had been only ten when she’d passed, but her memories of her mother were still very vivid and bolstered her courage.

Liz was going to need every ounce of strength she possessed to make it through this nightmare. She sent up another silent prayer for help and safety for Jillian, for herself, as she followed Blake out of the interrogation room.

The CBS officer waited for them in the hallway with her suitcase. “Exit through that door.” He pointed to the opposite end of the hallway from where they’d entered.

“It needs to appear that you’re going about the plan as normal, so go straight to the rental car pickup,” Blake told her. “There’s a phone in the glove box of your rental. When it rings put it on speaker so I can give you directions. I’ll be right behind you.”

Apparently they had anticipated her cooperation. She should be angry, but she was too freaked out and tired to stir the embers of anger. Though she nearly let loose a hysterical chuckle, no doubt born of fatigue and panic. Blake was certainly sure of himself. That could be a good thing. At least she hoped so. She grabbed the handle of her luggage and rushed out the exit, which led her back to the terminal.

She hurried through the security exit and out of the airport. Stars twinkled in the dark sky. She took a moment to breathe in the cold air to clear her head. The freezing temperature was painful to her lungs. Within seconds her face felt as if icicles were forming on her skin.

She crossed the street, heading to the car rental desk and stepped into line. A large body bumped into her, knocking her off balance. “Hey!”

A hard object pressed into her side. “Don’t scream or I’ll put a bullet in you.”

Terrified, Liz stiffened. She recognized the voice whispering in her ear. It was the intruder from her apartment. Santini’s rival for the diamond necklace. She turned her head, wanting to see his face.

But he shifted out of her peripheral view and pressed the barrel of the gun harder into her ribs and growled, “Don’t look at me. Just walk.”

Frantically, she searched for Blake as she stepped out of line with the man and moved toward a waiting car. She couldn’t make out the driver’s face. His dark gray hoodie covered his head and hung over his face.

The blare of a horn caught her assailant’s attention.

Liz’s gaze whipped to the left in time to see Blake jump out of a nondescript sedan and run full speed toward her. From the corner of her eye she saw the Canadian customs officer racing to intercept her attacker.

The man with the gun cursed, then pushed her away, sending her stumbling toward Blake. Her would-be captor jumped into the waiting vehicle before the customs officer could reach him, and the little blue coupe took off like a rocket, weaving through traffic. The customs officer was on his phone in seconds, presumably calling other law enforcement to pursue the two men.

Blake grabbed her by the biceps. “Are you okay, miss?”

Taking his cue to act as if they didn’t know each other, she nodded, “I’m fine, thank you.”

She shrugged out of his hold, unsettled by the way his hands burned through the material of her coat to her skin.

He nodded and returned to his sedan. His tall, lean frame folded into the driver’s seat. She watched him drive away with anxiety twisting her up in knots. Feeling exposed, she hurried to the car rental counter. After signing for the rental car, the man handed her a set of keys to a silver sedan.

Once inside the vehicle, she locked the doors and then opened the glove box to find the phone Blake had said would be there. She had to admit she was grateful to have him on her side. She was nuts to think she could have pulled off rescuing her sister alone. Within seconds the small cell phone rang. She pressed answer and then the speaker button as she’d been instructed. “Hello.”

“All right, Liz,” came Blake’s voice. Some of her tension eased, knowing she had a link to him through the phone. “The address where you’re going has already been programmed into the car’s onboard GPS. Start the car and hit the route button. I’ll fall in behind you. Nathanial will also be following. If we think you’re being followed, we’ll give you further instructions.”

“Okay.” Her hands shook as she started the car, then hit the route button on the navigation system in the dashboard. Immediately a disembodied female voice gave her directions to follow.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove through traffic. A surreal sensation blunted the edges of her fear. Was she really doing this? “That man with the gun was probably Ken. He was the same man who broke into my apartment. I recognized his voice.”

“I’ll let Nathanial know.”

A shudder worked through her, tensing her shoulders even more until they were hiked all the way to her ears. The man had almost had her for a second time. Thankfully, Blake had been there. But could she count on him to save her again? To save her sister?

She prayed so. Because if Blake failed her, then her sister would die.

“Nathanial caught the license plate of the vehicle he jumped into.” Blake’s voice filled the car. “Local police will track it down, but I’m sure those two will ditch it and find other transportation.”

“He must have been on my plane,” she said, realizing that if Blake hadn’t detained her, that man might have succeeded in kidnapping her and taking ownership of the necklace.

“He used an alias,” Blake told her. “We’ll have our people reexamine the flight manifest and see if we can catch him on any of the airport’s video feed.”

“The other guy must be local and provided him with the gun,” she hypothesized.

“Yes, that thought crossed my mind,” Blake admitted.

She sighed. “I’m freaking out that there are two people trying to claim the necklace as theirs.”

“It does complicate things but don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”

She hoped so. “I appreciate that.”

Traffic slowed as she approached the Rainbow Bridge where she’d cross the border over the Niagara River. She glanced in her rearview mirror and realized Blake was in the car directly behind her. For some reason that made her feel protected and exposed at the same time.

She crossed into Canada without incident and continued to follow the navigation system to a tall red brick building.

“Circle the block,” Blake instructed. “To make sure no one is following.”

She did as he asked, noting that he’d fallen back by several cars. When she passed the front of the building the second time he said, “We’re clear. Park in the garage and wait in the car for me.”

She found a parking spot in the corner near the stairs. A few minutes later, Blake drove in and parked two places down.

He hopped out of his car and walked over to her. She unlocked the doors so he could grab her bag from the backseat. She climbed out and came around to his side.

“This way.” He led her up the stairwell and into the building’s entryway. Warmth suffused her, chasing away her chill. She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over her arm as she looked around. Immediately she was taken with the marble floors, the art deco decor and the lovely antique pieces scattered around the lobby.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“Where the team is staying,” he answered.

The ding of the elevator car arriving echoed off the polished marble floor and cut her off from asking more questions about her surroundings. The doors slid open. Staring into the box, her throat constricted. The muscles in her shoulders tensed. He laid his hand to the small of her back, urging her to move. His touch was warm through her pink sweater and created tingles on her skin, distracting her enough to enter the elevator car. She plastered herself against the wall and gripped the handrail as Blake entered, dragging her suitcase behind him. He was a good head taller than she and so attractive he stole her breath.

The doors slid shut, trapping her inside the small car with Blake. He took up too much of the oxygen. A light-headed sensation had her bracing a hand on the gleaming metal wall. He gave her a curious glance but made no remark.

She chalked her dizziness up to a bout of claustrophobia or lack of food. Either could be the culprit, certainly not because of the good-looking agent.

They got out on the eleventh floor, and he led her to a door at the end of the hall which he unlocked and pushed open. “Inside, please.”

Curious, she entered, thankful for the soft yellow glow from a table lamp. The large living room held two brown leather sofas and a love seat, a glass coffee table, a marble fireplace, plus a plush rug that cushioned every step. She laid her coat over the arm of a high-back chair pushed up to a nice-sized dining table. Off to the right was a kitchen. Without the lights on, she couldn’t make out more than the shapes of the appliances, but would hazard a guess it was all state-of-the-art.

Blake walked past her and down a short hall. “This will be your room.”

She followed him into a well-appointed bedroom with crisp white linens, a marble fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows that during the day would offer stunning views.

The room faced the falls. Though it was too dark to see the water, she could make out the slight hum of the rapids. There was a thin television mounted on the wall over a desk. The bath was equally impressive. Oversized with marble accoutrements and gold fixtures. Bright white plush towels hung on warming racks and a thick white robe waited on a hanger on the back of the door.

As much as Liz appreciated the luxury of the condo, she’d rather be home with her sister, both of them safe and content to be on Hilton Head Island.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said. Guilt ate at her. She was in this beautiful place, protected and safe, while who knew what kind of conditions Jillian was suffering. “I should be at the hotel where Jillian last was. Maybe there’s a clue or something that will tell us what happened to her.”

In two long strides Blake was in front her, towering over her, yet she didn’t cower. His posture was unthreatening, almost tender. His big hands engulfed her much smaller ones. His touch was comforting and disconcerting all at once. She saw the shadow of fatigue under his eyes and the stubble darkening his strong jaw. He still had his coat buttoned to the top and looked as if he’d stepped from the pages of a magazine rather than being an agent for the federal government.

She should pull her hands away, the rational part of her brain warned, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. For the moment, she accepted his offer of strength.

“Listen to me, Liz, you’re going to need to be alert and one hundred percent ready for tomorrow. That means rest for the remainder of the night.”

Easy for him to say. “I don’t know if I can rest.”

“You need to try.” He rubbed her hands gently. “We have people staking out the hotel. If your sister returns, they’ll let me know.”

Her stomach cramped with hunger. “Would it be possible to get a piece of toast and a glass of water?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, I should have offered the moment we arrived.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not used to playing host.”

She tracked his fingers, wondering if the dark strands would be coarse or soft against her own skin. Forcing her attention away from his hair, she said, “It’s okay. You’ve a lot on your mind.”

“This way.” He gestured for her to follow him.

He unbuttoned his coat as they went, then shrugged out of it and laid it on the back of the couch. The suit he wore looked to be perfectly made for his physique. The navy material draped on his frame in a custom fit that emphasized the width of his shoulders, his trim waist and long muscular legs.

“When did you last eat?”

It took a moment for his words to process. She had to drag her mind away from admiring him. “This morning,” she admitted.

He turned the kitchen light on. She was right. Gleaming, state-of-the-art, appliances and granite countertops. She traced her hand over the cool surface. Her apartment counters were old white tile blocks that needed regrouting.

Blake leaned on the open refrigerator door. “I could make you some eggs or a salad.”

“Eating too much this late at night will give me the gobbly-wobbles.” Not as if the past twenty-four hours hadn’t already. She would no doubt have nightmares tonight. That was if she managed to sleep at all.

“Uh?”

She smiled with sadness. “Sorry. That’s something my dad used to say. Add to my nightmares,” she clarified. “Toast will be fine.”

He frowned at her. “You have nightmares?”

“Not on a regular basis but my sister has been kidnapped. What do you think?”

“Oh, right.” He reached inside the refrigerator and brought out two loaves of bread. “We have sourdough or cinnamon raisin.”

Her mouth watered. “One of each.”

“All right,” he said with a dose of approval that shouldn’t have felt so good. “One of each it is. Glasses are in the cupboard to the right of the sink.” He popped two slices of bread in the toaster.

She got herself and him tall glasses of water. When the toast was ready and buttered on a plate, they sat at the dining table while she nibbled on the toast.

Blake leaned back in his chair. The drop-down light over the dining table covered him in a soft glow, gentling the sharp edges of the angles and planes of his face. “Tell me about your family’s business.”

Was he really interested or making small talk? It was hard to tell from the neutral expression on his face. Deciding it didn’t matter either way, she replied, “My dad was a professor of history when he met my mother. She’d worked in a coffee shop near campus. They had a whirlwind romance that lasted two decades. Mom loved antiques so buying the store on Hilton Head Island gave them a common interest.”

“So they ran the store together?”

“They did, until mom’s illness. Lymphoma.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He sounded sincere, and she appreciated his consideration.

“Thank you.” She finished off her toast as a wave of exhaustion took hold. “Dad was never the same after she passed. Ten years later his heart gave out. But I think he died of a broken heart.”

“Leaving you to care for your younger sister,” Blake said.

“Yes. I promised my dad on his deathbed I would take care of Jillian.” From the moment her father had elicited the promise to watch out for Jillian, Liz had been doing so. She’d come home from college to finish out her last two terms via online classes and worked in their father’s shop while Jillian finished up high school.

“You were what, twenty? Surely you had other family who could take some of the burden?”

“Both my mom’s and dad’s parents passed on when we were little. It was just me and Jillian.”

“What is she like?”

“Pretty like our mother. She got Mom’s fine bones and masses of curly blond hair. A free-spirited artist.” But Liz had the more angular features of their father and her dishwater blond hair was stick straight. No matter what type of styling equipment she used, she couldn’t get her fine, thin hair to curl. “I take more after Dad.”

There were other differences, as well. Jillian was also reckless, always chasing after one dream or another, while Liz analyzed and contemplated before making any decision. Over the years Liz had endeavored to curb her sister’s wild ways to no avail.

“Was he reserved and thoughtful, like you?”

She’d been called reserved often. She didn’t mind that moniker. Opening herself up to others didn’t come naturally or easy. But Blake considered her thoughtful? That was nice. He was nice when he wasn’t trying to intimidate her.

“Dad was passionate about the store. So in that respect, yes, I’m like him. I enjoy running the business. Over the years Dad taught me how to manage the inventory and the books so when he passed on it was a given that I’d take over while Jillian finished high school and then dabbled at college.”

Anxious dread weighed down her heart as worry bubbled. Was Jillian all right? Was she resting? Getting food to eat?

“Yet you managed to finish college,” he said sounding impressed.

“I did.” She was proud of the accomplishment. “My degree in marketing has proven effective with the store.”

“So you run the shop and provide for Jillian.” He cocked his head to the side. “Who watches out for you and your needs?”

His question caught her off guard. She had no ready answer. She’d been content to manage the store while Jillian went off to college to study art. Her passion, as Jillian had claimed with dramatic flair when Liz had suggested she major in something a bit more practical.

She didn’t regret the time spent keeping the business going or providing as much guidance as she could for Jillian. It was her choice to honor her father’s promise. And she would continue to do so. Jillian needed her now more than ever.

Deep inside of her, resentment stirred for the promise she’d made, the years of sacrifice. And as quickly, guilt swamped her, flooding her heart and her mind, drowning the resentment. How could she not want to keep her promise to her father? How could she begrudge taking care of her sister?

Still Blake’s question poked at her, forcing her to admit to herself that the last time she’d felt cared for had been before her mother had fallen ill. A heavy sadness pressed on her shoulders. Mom had been so loving and kind, yet she’d been stern when needed. She’d been encouraging and giving. Liz had admired her so much. And had wanted to emulate her in every way. When the sickness had grabbed ahold of her, Liz had stepped up to fill her shoes by taking over the household chores and the cooking and even taking care of young Jillian.

Dad had tried to stay involved in their lives, but he’d been so consumed by his wife’s illness that the day-to-day living had fallen to Liz. She’d picked up the mantle with pride. Still did.

“I’m doing fine. It’s Jillian who we need to be worried about.” She picked up their dirty dishes and carried them to the sink, hoping he’d drop this line of conversation. She could feel his gaze on her but she held her chin up and wouldn’t let him see how his question affected her.

“We have a big day tomorrow,” he said. Apparently he got the hint and let the conversation die. “I’ll walk you back to your room. You really do need to rest.”

He was right, of course. She did need to rest to have the strength for what was to come. At her door she asked, “Where will you be sleeping?”

“I’ll be down the hall,” he said. “The other team members are right next door. You’ll meet Drew and Samantha in the morning.”

She put her hand on the doorknob but paused to ask, “Why are you doing this? I mean I know it’s your job, but...”

“I want Santini. He killed my friend and has evaded authorities for too long. I won’t rest until he’s behind bars for the rest of his life.”

She absorbed his words, understanding what drove him and appreciating that he’d shared his story with her. “I meant, letting me stay here? This seems above the call of duty.”

One corner of his mouth curved up with the barest hint of a smile before he tamed his lips back into a straight line. “I promised you I’d keep you safe. This is as safe as it gets.”

“Are you always so in control and contained?”

“That’s the rumor.” This time he did smile, revealing a dimple in his cheek.

Her breath stalled. He really was handsome, even more so when he smiled. That dimple was charming. She wondered what it would be like to have his charm turned fully on her. She placed a hand over her tummy to still the flutter of attraction that wanted to take flight. “Good night, Blake.”

“Good night, Liz.”

He walked away, disappearing into a room at the end of the hallway, leaving Liz alone with only her prayers for company.

No, that wasn’t exactly true. Blake would be right down the hall if she needed him.

She’d never had anyone be there for her. She was the one to take care of others, seeing to everyone else’s needs before her own. It was a part of her makeup, her genetic code, or at least that was what she’d been taught in her psychology classes in college. Those personality tests pegged her as a helper and a thinker, which stood to reason why it was so hard for her to let others help her. And why she overanalyzed everything.

Seeing to her safety was Blake’s job, she reasoned. He needed her to capture Santini. And she needed Blake to rescue her sister. They were helping each other.

A win, win.

But why did she have the sinking feeling that what they both wanted would come with a price?


THREE (#ulink_f029bc1e-ea98-5a23-abd5-324c1501c018)

Liz awoke to a gray, stormy sky outside her window. Despite the ominous clouds overhead, the view from her room was as spectacular as she’d suspected.

The famed Horseshoe Falls were frozen, creating a wall of white. Though Liz knew from what she’d read about the falls when Jillian had first announced she and Travis would be eloping to Niagara and spending their honeymoon in the romantic setting, the water beneath the top layers of ice still flowed due to a steel boom ice catcher.

She wished she had a steel boom to catch Santini. The thought galvanized her to get ready for what lay ahead. Though fear threatened to sap her resolve, she had to forge forward. Her sister was counting on her. He dad was counting on her. She couldn’t fail her father. She’d promised him she’d look out for Jillian. And she’d tried.

She clenched her jaw. If only Jillian had listened to her and not run off to marry Travis. But Jillian had always had a mind of her own and rarely listened to reason.

In fact she’d scoffed at Liz’s attempts to keep her from making mistakes.

If I don’t make mistakes then how will I learn if something is right for me or not?

Jillian’s word echoed through Liz’s mind. Well, hopefully, Jillian learned that Travis was a mistake, but what a painful way to learn that lesson. A lesson that had lifelong consequences. Marriage wasn’t something to enter into lightly. And despite how easy it was to obtain a divorce, both Liz and Jillian had been taught that marriage was sacred, something to be honored and cherished. What was God’s purpose for Jillian to marry a thief and a smuggler? A man obviously not of God.

Judge not, least ye be judged. The line of scripture ran through her head like tickertape, reminding her that it wasn’t right for her to evaluate Travis’s worth.

Still, the man had knowingly committed more than one crime.

Shaking her head with exasperation, Liz selected a long tunic sweater in green over fleece-lined stretch pants tucked inside her winter boots. She was braiding her hair when she heard voices outside her room door.

Blake’s deep tone she recognized. Two others, one male and the other female, she didn’t recognize, but figured they were Drew and Samantha, whom Blake had mentioned last night.

After securing her long braid with a rubber band, she opened the door and entered the living room. Blake had his back to her, blocking her view of the two people with him. But then he turned around and captured her whole focus.

He’d changed into green cargo pants and a cream-colored cable knit sweater. He’d also taken the time to shave, which accentuated the planes and angles of his face. His dark hair was still damp. Liz liked the way the ends curled at his nape. Weariness rimmed his dark eyes. He gave her a quick once-over.

She caught something akin to interest in his expression, which seemed to thaw the hard coldness of his eyes just a tad more. Her heart bumped against her breastbone as attraction zinged through her veins and made her knees weak. Her mouth went dry. Confusion swirled within her brain. She never went all mushy over a man. Only heartache lay in that direction.

Watching her sister fall in love over and over again with various men through the years and then witnessing the emotional upheaval when the relationship ended had drilled home to Liz what she’d learned from watching her father after her mother’s death. Love equaled pain.

Whether it was a bruised ego, as was often the case with Jillian, or a broken spirit like their father, giving one’s heart away meant losing a part of oneself.

Liz had no intention of losing herself for anyone.

“Good morning.” A hint of a smile touched his lips drawing her attention. He had such a nice-shaped mouth. She batted down that errant thought. “I hope you slept well.”




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