Hideaway At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron

fought a sob as the man dragged her out the back door.

      Tires screeched. An SUV careened into the parking lot, a police car following. Blue lights twirled and flickered against the night sky.

      Car doors opened, and a man shouted, “Stop, FBI!”

      Two of the guards at the back of the van opened fire and men ducked for cover.

      The man holding her arm lost his grip and fired back, then motioned for the two guards to get in the van. They jumped inside, while another one rushed into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, then shouts and bullets flew.

      The big guy shoved her toward the van, but she kicked him in the knee. He cursed and pushed her again, but she dived to the side and hit the concrete. Another round of bullets pinged around her, then the big guy jumped inside the vehicle.

      Mila covered her head with her hands as the FBI fired at the van. Through the back window the guards unleashed another round.

      She screamed as a bullet pinged onto the concrete by her face.

      Tires peeled rubber as the van screeched away. Footsteps and shouts followed. The officers were leaving. She raised her head to look around, but a tall, dark-haired man stood over her, his gun aimed at her.

      “Dr. Manchester?”

      She nodded, her body trembling.

      He hauled her to her feet. “You are under arrest.”

      She opened her mouth to protest. But he spun her around, yanked her arms behind her and snapped handcuffs around her wrists.

      * * *

      KEEPING THE HAWK women calm was an impossible job.

      Brayden and Dexter tried everything from encouraging the girls to talk about riding to feigning interest in the plans for Honey’s nursery.

      The fact that Honey didn’t want to talk about the baby’s room was not a good sign.

      Charlotte paced in front of the fireplace in the den, where they’d gathered to have coffee and the blueberry cobbler his mother had baked. But no one was hungry and everyone wanted drinks instead of coffee. Except for Honey, of course.

      “I wish they’d call,” Charlotte said as she made the turn at the corner of the fireplace for the dozenth time.

      “Harrison has to come back okay.” Honey rubbed her growing belly. “This little boy needs his daddy.”

      An awkward silence followed as her comment hit too close to home. He and his brothers had needed their father, but he’d left and never contacted them again.

      “I’m sorry,” Honey said. “That was insensitive.”

      “It’s the truth.” Their mother patted Honey’s shoulder. “We are not keeping secrets or mincing words. Your baby needs Harrison, and he’s coming back to you both.”

      Brayden’s phone buzzed, and everyone startled.

      “Is it Lucas?” Charlotte asked at the same time Honey asked if it was Harrison.

      He checked the number. “Harrison.” He quickly connected, then listened.

      “I don’t have much time. Arman DiSanti was at the clinic in Austin, but he escaped. Two FBI agents chased after him but lost him on the outskirts of Austin. We have an APB out for the van and have alerted all authorities.”

      The women were boring holes into him with their anxious expressions. “Are you and Lucas all right?” Brayden asked.

      “Yeah,” Harrison said. “Lucas arrested Dr. Manchester. We’re transporting her to the field office here in Austin for questioning. Tell Honey to go home and get some rest. I’ll be home later.”

      Brayden frowned. “I will.”

      As soon as he hung up, Charlotte and Honey pounced on him. “What happened? Are they okay?”

      “Lucas and Harrison are safe. Unfortunately, DiSanti escaped.” Brayden glanced at Honey. “Harrison said for you to go home and rest.”

      Honey released a sigh of relief. “I know he loves what he does, but I can’t help but worry.”

      Charlotte put her arm around Honey. “Me, too. Every time Lucas leaves the house, I say a prayer that he’ll come back in one piece.”

      Mrs. Hawk clapped her hands. “Well, now that we know our men are safe, how about that pie?”

      Honey rubbed her stomach again. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

      Dexter went for it, but Charlotte declined, then cornered him by the fireplace. “What happened with Mila?”

      Brayden reached for the bottle of scotch to pour another drink. He’d held off while they waited, deciding he needed to remain sober in case there was an emergency. He’d only served on the police force a year before deciding on law school, but he knew how dangerous the streets were.

      “Brayden, tell me,” Charlotte said, an urgency to her voice that made him step away from the bar.

      “Lucas arrested her. They’re taking her to the field office in Austin for questioning.”

      Charlotte’s face crumpled. “I’m going. I have to see her.”

      She rushed toward the coat rack in the foyer and retrieved her purse. Brayden hurried after her.

      “Wait, Charlotte, I’m sure Lucas will call you.”

      “He arrested her,” Charlotte said. “That’s not right. I know Mila wouldn’t help those men.”

      “Apparently, she did,” Brayden said. “They were at her clinic.”

      Charlotte shook her head vigorously. “No. There’s more to the story. And she’s going to need a lawyer.”

      Brayden threw up his hands. He didn’t want to get in the middle of an argument between Charlotte and his brother.

      “Please,” Charlotte said. “Go with me and listen to what she has to say.”

      Her pleading tone sucker punched him. He didn’t know Mila Manchester. But he did know Charlotte, and his brother’s wife was one of the most honest, caring women he’d ever met.

      He tugged his keys from his pocket. “All right, I’ll drive you. But I’m not promising anything.”

      He explained the situation to the family and agreed to keep them posted, then escorted Charlotte to his SUV. Her shaky breathing rattled in the SUV as he drove from the ranch onto the road through town, then to the highway leading to Austin.

      “Tell me about this Dr. Manchester,” he said as he sped around traffic.

      She retrieved a photo of the doctor on her phone. His gut pinched.

      Mila Manchester was a plastic surgeon—but she could have passed for a model. Well, maybe not a model. She wasn’t rail thin or gaunt-looking or covered in layers of makeup.

      Instead she was naturally beautiful. Huge dark eyes stood out against ivory skin and pale pink lips. Her hair was a fiery dark color with streaks of red.

      There was also a softness about her that made her look wholesome.

      He jerked his eyes back to the road. He couldn’t get distracted by her good looks. Sometimes the lookers were shallow beneath.

      Charlotte twisted her hands together. “I was born with a port-wine birthmark,” Charlotte said. “No one wanted to adopt me because of it. Dr. Manchester, Mila’s mother, did volunteer work and removed it for me at no cost.” She paused, her voice warbling. “I met Mila the day before the surgery. She was about my age but wasn’t turned off by the way I looked. I guess she’d seen worse at her mother’s practice.”

      “Her mother sounds like a saint.”

      “She