Bounty Hunter Ransom. Kara Lennox

So you haven’t seen Patti since you talked to her a couple of days ago?”

      “No. I haven’t seen her in months.”

      “She might just show up there and try to see her dad. If she does, call me right away, okay?”

      “Of course. Hell, I’ll help her if I can. I just had no idea.”

      “I know. Give my love to your dad, will you? And tell him I’ll visit soon.”

      Aubrey hung up and took another sip of tea. Beau returned just as the food arrived. He had his timing down.

      “You okay?” he asked. “You look kind of pale.”

      As he wolfed down pancakes, she told him about her phone call with David. Beau was visibly shaken. The Clarendons had been like family to him, once upon a time. “I haven’t been the greatest about keeping in touch, either. You’re not the only one who’s got a bit of a grudge against me.”

      A grudge. That was an understatement.

      “Your aunt and uncle were always really nice to me,” he continued, “though I suspect they thought I was a bad influence on David.”

      “David? No way. He was incorruptible. ‘Squeak’ fits him better than me.”

      Beau shook his head, the corner of his mouth turning up in that infuriating almost-smile. “He had you snowed, Aubrey.” But then he turned serious. “I need to check out the tip Erin gave me. You want to help me out?”

      “Me?”

      “It’s a conservative neighborhood. I’ll be spotted immediately, but you’ll look right at home.”

      “What exactly do you want me to do?”

      Beau handed the waitress money for the bill, including a generous tip, and they left the restaurant. “Once we find the house, just go up to the door and pretend you’re a new neighbor. Ask for a cup of sugar or something.”

      “I’ll ask to use the phone.”

      Beau grinned. “You’re a natural.”

      They climbed back into his Mustang. Beau raised the top and turned on the air-conditioning, for which Aubrey was extremely grateful. She normally didn’t mind the Texas heat, but her fair skin would freckle if she got any more sun.

      They found the small tract house with the broken mailbox soon enough. Beau parked around the corner. “If someone answers the door, try to peek inside and look for a two-year-old.” He showed Aubrey a photo of a cute towheaded toddler. “If you see the kid or kid’s toys, that’s all I need for now.”

      Aubrey couldn’t believe she was doing this, but it sounded easy enough. Anyway, she needed the practice. She was going undercover tonight—at an S&M bar.

      A woman in her fifties answered the door. “Yes?”

      “Hi, I’m Rita McMurray.” She had no idea where that name had come from. “I’m moving in a couple of houses down,” she said, pointing vaguely down the block, “and they haven’t connected the phone yet. Could I use yours?”

      The woman gave a tight smile. “Sure. I’ll bring you the cordless.” She closed the screen door, but Aubrey got a clear view inside. She looked for any sign of a child and saw nothing. But moments later an ear-piercing shriek rent the air. The child—for surely that’s what it was—was quickly shushed by someone inside.

      The woman returned with the phone. Aubrey dialed her office number, pretended to talk to her nonexistent husband, returned the phone and got out of there. She felt triumphant, exultant, as she rounded the corner and got into Beau’s car.

      “Yup, there’s a child in there. I didn’t see him, but I heard him. And he was shushed up really quickly.”

      “Good work.” He pulled a cell phone from the console and dialed, then gave some terse directions. Apparently he was going to extract the child from the house right now.

      In fifteen minutes two more cars showed up. One held Ace and Lori. A man Aubrey had never met climbed out of the second. He was huge, six-three at least, with blond hair cut very short and piercing green eyes. He screamed ex-military.

      The three men and Lori conferred on the sidewalk while Aubrey remained in the stifling car. Then the blond man and Ace went up the alley, while Beau walked back down the block toward the front of the redbrick house.

      Lori joined Aubrey at the car, leaning in the open window. “Don’t you just hate being a woman sometimes? Those macho jerks won’t let me help.”

      The last place Aubrey wanted to be was with the guys right now. “I’ll stay right here where it’s safe, thanks.”

      “Come on, let’s watch.”

      Aubrey got out of the car, though Beau had told her not to, and she and Lori peeked out from behind a fence. Beau beat on the front door. “Fugitive recovery agent! Open up!”

      The door opened immediately and Beau went inside. An interminable amount of time seemed to pass, though realistically it was probably only a minute or two. Then he emerged holding a screaming child. He gave a signal to Lori.

      “Come on, that’s our cue.”

      Without knowing what she was doing, Aubrey jumped in the Mustang along with Lori, who cranked it up, put it in gear, and skidded around the corner. Beau met the car, opened Aubrey’s door and handed the kid to her. “Get out of here.”

      Lori hit the gas.

      The child screamed despite Aubrey’s attempts to comfort him. “Is this legal?” she asked Lori. “Just snatching a kid away from his mother?”

      “She kidnapped him first.”

      “But…she’s his mother.”

      “She’s a prostitute, and a junkie. We didn’t take her kid away, the courts did. We’re just enforcing what the court ordered.”

      Aubrey wasn’t sure she liked it. That woman could have been Patti. Beau’s career choice seemed morally ambiguous at best. But then, that was her whole objection to how Beau earned a living. He followed the cash—even if that meant betraying his best friend.

      Chapter Four

      Beau wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing by taking Aubrey with him to extract Christopher Langford from the house. But he’d needed to act quickly. If he’d waited even a few hours, Shelley might have gotten spooked and skipped out with the kid. And he couldn’t think of any place to leave Aubrey where he knew she’d be safe.

      He wasn’t sure when he’d decided that protecting her was his job. All he knew was that if something happened to her, he would feel directly responsible.

      She might not know it, but he was on the job, whether or not she wanted to pay him. After what he’d done to Gavin, he figured he owed her and her family. The Schuylers and Clarendons had been the prevailing influence on his youth. Lord knew his own family hadn’t done much for him. His mother had died when he was three and his father had spent the next fifteen years drinking himself into a premature grave.

      Lori offered to take over little Christopher, return him to his father and collect the reward on Beau’s behalf, and he was happy to let her. Ace was paying her a small salary to handle bureaucratic details, something all of the First Strike agents appreciated. But once Lori was earning enough of her own fees to make a living, they’d all have to do their own grunt work.

      “That was…intense,” Aubrey commented once they were alone again. It was getting close to five o’clock, and they sat in his car at a Sonic Drive-In. “I can’t believe we’re just sitting here, drinking root beer. You seem so casual about it.”

      “It’s my job. And that was an easy extraction. Shelley and her aunt took one look at me and crumbled. No guns, no chasing.”

      “Will