Protecting His Secret Son. Laura Scott

In Hawk’s world, anyone who wasn’t a good guy was automatically deemed a hostile.

      Despite seeing the meeting between Duncan and Lane, Mike couldn’t help admitting Shayla had a point. There was a chance, albeit a remote one, that her brother was working undercover.

      It didn’t explain what he’d overheard at his father’s funeral, but still. He’d promised to listen to Duncan’s side of the story, and he would.

      After making a U-turn, Mike headed back toward the motel. He could see Hawk’s SUV headlights approaching from the opposite direction. Relieved to have Hawk’s assistance, he pulled into the parking lot, turned around and backed into the spot near the south side of the building. He purposefully positioned the SUV so that it was directly facing the road, in case Shayla had to leave in a hurry.

      “You need to get in behind the wheel,” he directed. “And if anything goes wrong, I want you and Brodie to bolt out of here, understand?”

      Her expression was full of concern. “And leave you? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

      “I’ll be fine with Hawk. You have our son to worry about.”

      She bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay. You’ll be careful, right? You won’t hurt Duncan?”

      It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that he would only take action against Duncan if her brother started it first, but there was no reason to say anything that might upset her.

      “Everything will be fine,” he said reassuringly. “This is all just an added precaution. But promise me that if you hear anything go wrong, you’ll drive straight to the closest police station. Ask for my brother Miles, or Matt. Or Noah Sinclair. And if all else fails, you can ask for my dad’s buddy Kirk Stoltz.”

      Her expression held a note of uncertainty. “I will.”

      He hoped so. He slid out from behind the wheel. Shayla awkwardly climbed over the console and dropped into the driver’s seat. He waited until she had the seat adjusted for her shorter frame before gently closing the door and loping across the parking lot to meet up with Hawk.

      “Which room?” Hawk asked.

      “I don’t know. We could ask the clerk.” He frowned when he noticed the black pickup. There was something off about it. “Wait a minute. I want to check this out.”

      “I’ll cover you.”

      Next to his brothers and brother-in-law, Hawk was the only other person Mike trusted to cover his back. Despite being injured during his stint as a soldier, with a long jagged facial scar to prove it, he knew Hawk would go to the mat for him, and vice versa.

      Mike hunkered down beside the truck and swept his hand over the side panel. It wasn’t smooth, the way paint from a factory was. There were rough spots. He turned on his phone and used the flashlight application to inspect the underbelly.

      Edges of white paint could be seen behind the black.

      “This is Duncan’s truck,” he whispered. “He must have painted it black to disguise it. He’s likely in room three.”

      “Not necessarily,” Hawk pointed out.

      Mike knew Hawk was right. He’d purposefully parked in front of his own room at the American Lodge, leaving the space in front of Shayla’s room vacant. That way the room looked empty. If he were staying here, he’d absolutely park in a different spot. Especially with so many to choose from.

      “We’ll try three first.” Using the truck for cover, he approached the motel door. He flattened himself against the wall on one side of the door, leaving Hawk to do the same on the other side.

      He rapped on the door with his knuckles.

      Nothing.

      He and Hawk exchanged a long glance before he tried again with the same result.

      They repeated the tactic on number two and number four.

      Still no response.

      “Let’s check with the clerk,” Mike finally said.

      Hawk followed as they went inside the small lobby. An elderly man looked up in surprise. Judging by the bilateral hearing aids, the guy hadn’t heard them knocking outside or their approach as they’d walked in.

      Mike flashed smile. “I’m here to pick up a friend of mine, Duncan O’Hare. He called me from room three, but isn’t answering the door.”

      “Eh?” The man leaned forward. “What’s the name?”

      “Duncan O’Hare,” he repeated loudly. “Room three.”

      The old man used his two index fingers to tap on the computer screen, then sagely nodded. “Yes, he’s here.”

      Mike glanced at Hawk and then repeated himself. “Duncan’s not answering the door. He must be really sound asleep. Would you mind giving us a key? I don’t want to wake up your other guests.”

      The guy frowned. “I don’t know about that...”

      Mike lifted his hands. “I get it, no problem. We’ll just keep knocking, I’m sure he’ll wake up eventually.” Without hesitating, he turned and began to walk away.

      Before he reached the door, the elderly man called him back. “Wait, son. Take the key.”

      The threat of creating a lot of noise had worked. Mike flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Poor guy’s going through a rough time.”

      “Aren’t we all?” the old guy agreed. “Business ain’t so good these days. Can’t afford to lose my guests.”

      Key in hand, Mike approached the door cautiously. Hawk once again took up a defensive position on the other side of the door. Mike unlocked the door and pushed it open with his foot while hugging the wall.

      Still nothing.

      He and Hawk cautiously entered the room, noticing the fast-food wrappers in the garbage bin and that the bedspread was messed up, as if someone had stretched out there.

      But there was no sign of Duncan O’Hare.

      A feeling of helplessness washed over him. Duncan had left, without his white-painted-black truck.

      Leaving nothing resembling a clue behind.

      * * *

      Waiting for Mike was sheer torture. Shayla gripped the steering wheel, hoping that he’d hurry up and get her brother out of the motel. She’d feel better if Duncan stayed with her, Brodie and Mike.

      There was strength in numbers.

      Mike and his friend Hawk moved with excruciating slowness. The wait was killing her. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. Skulking around in the dark was causing her imagination to run wild.

      If this level of suspense continued, she was afraid Brodie wouldn’t be the only one to suffer from nightmares. She’d have them, too.

      Braced for the worst, she hunched her shoulders, listening intently for any sound of a struggle. She doubted Duncan would welcome Mike with open arms and prayed things wouldn’t get out of hand.

      Now that Mike knew the truth about Brodie, she couldn’t help wondering how they’d make things work between them. Selfishly, she didn’t want to share custody on alternate weekends and days of the week. Brodie didn’t even know Mike—surely he wouldn’t force the issue of custody right away.

      And Mike’s opinion about her father and brother still rankled.

      When she saw the two men emerge from the motel room, her stomach knotted. The men parted ways. Mike returned to the SUV while his buddy Hawk walked to a different vehicle on the other side of the parking lot.

      She belatedly scrambled back over the console into the passenger seat. As soon as Mike was settled, she peppered him with questions.