Bravo, Tango, Cowboy. Joanna Wayne

“No private investigator has the resources the FBI does. No one else is going to give this case the attention I have. I’ve supervised a lot of it myself and assigned some of my top men to assist.”

      “And all of you ignored the photograph of Lucy and the abductor.”

      “I haven’t ignored it, Alonsa. The photo doesn’t show anything of the abductor but the back of her head. All we know now that we didn’t know before is that a woman was involved.”

      “You should have called me,” she insisted. “I have a right to know.”

      “I’m checking every lead, Alonsa, including the photo. You know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you. I was right there with you through the worst of this. You cried in my arms and I cried with you. Do you think some high-priced private investigator is going to stick by you the way I have or care about you and Lucy the way I do?”

      Her anger subsided. Craig had been there since the beginning and had put in lots of hours. He’d personally been involved in every aspect those first critical months, staying in Houston for several weeks. Perhaps she had been hasty and grasping at straws in hiring Hawk.

      She turned so that Hawk was directly in her line of vision. She studied his profile, his muscular physique, his broad shoulders, the confident stance. The way Elle was hanging on his every word, clearly drawn to him by the pure magnetism of his virility and personality, the way Alonsa had seen every other woman react to him.

      “What kind of expertise does this new investigator bring to the table, or has he just sold you a bill of goods?” Craig asked, putting words to her doubts.