Rescued By The Marine. Julie Miller

pride was wounded. But Jason quickly shoved both emotions back where they belonged, relaxing the fist at his side. There was a reason Jason was out of the loop on family matters, a reason why he chose the wide-open space of the mountains over life in Jackson, Wyoming, where his parents lived. And no taunt from a drunken kid was going to make him forget that reason.

      “Good night, Junior. Stay out of trouble.”

      After the door swung shut on Junior and Orin, the older gentleman in the three-piece suit stepped up to shake his hand. “Mr. Hunt. I’m Walter Eddington. Thank you for coming on such short notice. What’ll you drink?”

      Kitty scooped up her tray and headed back to the bar. “I’ll get a fresh pot of coffee brewed for you, Jase, and bring you a cup.”

      He nodded his thanks and followed Marty and Eddington to join the blond man who’d left the fight to make a call at a large, stained table at the far side of the bar. He hung back when Dante Pellegrino and his sidekick flanked him, refusing to come any closer until they gave him the space he needed. Pellegrino smoothed his thumb and forefinger over the curves of his mustache, sending Jason a very clear message that he was used to calling the shots around his employer. But with Jason not budging, Walter Eddington muttered a choice word and ordered Pellegrino to take a seat. Before obliging his employer, he shifted his gaze to his hireling and nodded toward the bar’s front door. “Metz. Check outside to make sure Cordes and his boys drive away and don’t come back. I don’t want any surprises.”

      “Yes, sir.” As the younger man buttoned his suit jacket and jogged toward the door, the ladies’ room door opened in the back and the drama of the evening took a turn into Circus Land.

      Two women who looked as out of place in this beer-scented joint as daisies in a patch of weeds came out of the ladies’ room. A twenty-something blonde in a shiny silver dress wheeled out a duffel-shaped overnight bag, while an older, equally dolled-up version of sophisticated beauty murmured something dismissive into the cell phone at her ear. The older woman met Jason’s assessing gaze before ending her call. While Marty pulled out a chair for the young woman, the mature blonde sat next to Eddington at the head of the table. “I’m assuming it’s safe to bring the money back out now that Mr. Cordes and his unpleasant friends are gone?” She squeezed his hand. The proprietary gesture and white gold band of diamonds on her hand told Jason they were husband and wife. “Are you certain they have nothing to do with Samantha?”

      “I’m not certain of anything anymore.” Eddington pulled her hand to his lips to kiss it. She reached over to brush a strand of silver hair off his forehead with a lacquered fingernail. The tender gesture drew attention to the older man’s weary expression. His skin had been ruddy with emotion during that standoff with Cordes, but now his face had a gray quality to it, as if the toughness he’d summoned for that confrontation at the bar had faded away. “Mr. Hunt, this is my wife, Joyce. My younger daughter, Taylor. And I don’t believe you met Kyle Grazer. He works for me at the Midas Hotel Group. He was supposed to become my future son-in-law tonight.”

      “Supposed to?” Grazer paused in the middle of pulling out a chair beside the younger woman. “Nothing has changed in my plans for Samantha. They’ve only been delayed.” He picked up the heavily packed duffel bag and dropped it into the middle of the table, rattling every glass and earning a glare from the older man. “This isn’t even what they asked for. Screw your principles. If we do what they tell you, we’ll get her back. Otherwise—”

      “Kyle.” Joyce Eddington shot him a look that forced the young man into his seat. Clearly, the woman was very protective of her husband. But the outburst triggered a gasp and a sniffle from the young woman. Joyce tutted a reprimand behind her teeth, but put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. Jason suspected that one reason for the trip to the bathroom had been for Taylor Eddington to apply a fresh coat of makeup to mask the puffiness around her red-rimmed eyes. “Taylor, dear, I need you to be stronger than this. Kyle, we need your handkerchief.”

      When he hesitated, Marty pulled a blue bandanna from the pocket of his jeans and held it out to the petite blonde, sliding into the empty chair across from her. The young woman slid a quick glance up to Grazer’s glaring expression before softly thanking Marty and dabbing at the moisture on her face. “I’m all right, Mother. I’m just worried about how Samantha is doing. She must be so frightened. And we’re still sitting here, talking about what we should do when she might already be—”

      Joyce squeezed her hand, shaking her head to keep her daughter from finishing that sentence.

      Before anyone else snapped or glared or cried, Jason reached over the table to unzip the bag. He didn’t have to open it very far to see the bundles of cash packed inside. Ransom. A far cry from a cache of high-tech weaponry and intelligence info, but the bargaining chip was the same—a woman’s life.

      His blood scalded like acid in his veins at the vivid memories he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t sure he could do this again. Marty thought they were going to make some easy money. He had no idea what he’d signed them up for. How much it could cost them if they failed.

      But once a Marine, always a Marine. Jason was hardwired to be mission-oriented, and a shot at redemption was as tempting as it was unsettling. He closed the bag and pulled out a chair, swinging it around to straddle it beside Walter Eddington. “Who’s been taken?”

      “Straight to the point. I like that. I’m a military man myself. Served a stint in the Army back in Vietnam.” For a brief moment, Walter Eddington looked truly old. But with a deep breath that expanded his barrel chest, he pulled out his phone and slid it across the table in front of Jason. “This was texted to me at midnight. My older daughter, Samantha.”

      Eddington turned away, unable to watch the screen. He pulled a silver chain from his jacket pocket, running his thumb over every link as if he was counting rosary beads. That wasn’t a good sign. Jason’s jaw tightened as he took the phone and played the video message.

      Hands that belonged to unseen men plucked a black hood off a woman’s head. She put her bound wrists up to her face and squinted against the sudden brightness of the lights shining on her, lights that also obscured her captors and their surroundings. Long ash-blond waves tumbled down one side of her neck while straighter strands still caught beneath hairpins floated upward with static electricity. When the gloved hands pulled her arms away from her face, she winced, but didn’t cry out.

      An off-camera voice muttered something unintelligible and she blinked open big green eyes. She ran her tongue across her full bottom lip and cleared her throat, as if she was thirsty and struggling to speak. “I can’t even see the camera without my glasses, much less read that scrawl of yours.”

      “Give ’em to her,” the muffled voice ordered.

      She glanced blindly about until the gloved hands reappeared and thrust a pair of tortoiseshell-framed glasses onto her face. As Samantha Eddington blinked the world into focus, she whispered a soft “Thank you.”

      Jason fought the urge to bolt. This was Kilkut all over again. The hair and eye color might be different, but with those glasses, she looked too much like... The memory of a bullet hole through the shattered lens of a woman’s glasses superimposed itself over Samantha Eddington’s face. He curled his fingers into a fist, fighting off the past and focusing squarely on the present reality of those big green eyes.

      “Say it.” The harsh voice wasn’t muffled now.

      Samantha nudged her glasses into place and looked into the camera. “Dad? Um, I got myself into some trouble here. Never should have left that stupid party. I’m so sorry. Is Brandon okay? He tried to help. I know you’re thinking about Mom right now. I felt like I needed to get away before I exploded, but I never thought any of this—”

      “Cut the sentimental crap and read it.”

      “Will you take me to use the outhouse if I do? My bladder’s about to bust.”

      Her answer was the distinctive sound of a bullet sliding into the firing chamber of an automatic handgun. “Read it.”

      Her green