He lifted one shoulder. “If I don’t adopt Wyatt, there’s no reason for you to come around.”
“There’s every reason—if you’ll have me, and I don’t know why you would. I’m a failed cop, a hothead, a liar and a kidnapper.”
He kissed her hard on the mouth to stop the litany of her faults. He whispered against her lips, “I know all of that, and I still want you. What does that say about me?”
“It says, I must be your person, too.” She curled a hand around his neck. “Did you have to know all of that before we went in to rescue Wyatt?”
“Maybe, but it wouldn’t have made a difference to my resolve to find that baby and keep him safe—whether that’s with me or someone else.” He kissed her again. “Let’s pass the time until nightfall by getting something to eat and packing the gear we’ll need to hike through the desert. We have just a few hours until darkness descends out here and those people in the house or mobile home or tent will never see us coming.”
THEY SAT IN a fast-food chain for almost an hour and a half, eating their chicken and drinking refills on their soda. Nobody paid any attention to them.
When they finished, they drove to some bathrooms at the head of a hiking trail, grabbed some bags from the trunk of the car and changed into all-black attire.
Emily removed her fake glasses so they wouldn’t reflect any light and give them away under the cover of darkness. She pulled a black cap over her brunette wig, and Nash swapped out his baseball cap for a black beanie.
They each strapped a weapon around their waist, and Nash slipped his knife in the leg holster, which had worked so well in taking down Gustavo.
Emily packed their backpacks with extra guns, smoke bombs, tear gas, burglary tools, GPS devices, small cameras and mics and whatever else she had from her PI stash. “If someone’s monitoring the security cameras out here, they might think we’re getting ready to take over a small country with this stuff.”
Nash cracked a smile. “We have to be ready for anything. We have no idea what we’re walking into.”
Like their other foray into the desert and the makeshift trailer park, Nash parked the car a half a mile out from where they needed to be. They could see lights in the distance, and he said to Emily, “At least there’s more than one house out there.”
“Luck is on our side.” She rubbed her hands together. “I feel it.”
“At least the moon is on our side.” He pointed skyward at the waxing crescent sliver hanging above them. It kept the night dark.
Emily held Nash’s hand and touched her lips to his ear. “At least there’s actually a road out here.”
“Memorize the location and then shut off your phone. I have a penlight we can use that shuts off quickly—and doesn’t ring or buzz.”
She studied the display, the blue light highlighting her face, and then shut down her cell and pocketed it. “Got it.”
Nash’s nostrils twitched. The residents on the outskirts of Buckeye owned property and horses. He tapped Emily’s arm. “I hope Lanier doesn’t have horses. They’ll sense our presence way before any human could.”
She tugged on the strap of his backpack. “That’s it.”
He gazed across the road at a small house occupying a large lot with one other property behind it, like a mother-in-law quarters. The windows of the house stared out at them blankly, dark and silent, but a soft glow emanated from the small structure behind the main house.
“If they’re here, I’m glad they’re in the smaller house—easier to storm.”
“Don’t forget there might be a baby in there.” She poked him in the back. “Easy on the storming.”
They kept moving past the house and then circled around the side to close in on the cottage with the lights burning.
Nash stuck out a hand and Emily plowed into it, tripping to a stop. He pointed to his eye first and then a pinpoint of light moving up and down outside the front door of the occupied house. “Someone’s smoking a cigarette out front.”
“The guard?” Emily’s breath came out in noisy, short spurts.
They crouched and moved in closer, ducking behind a fence that ringed the front property. Someone had parked a black Jag at a skewed angle in front of the smaller house, and Nash could make out figures moving behind the curtains on the window.
In a low voice, he asked, “Does that look like the window from the video chat?”
“It does. That’s it.” Emily pulled her gun from the holster around her waist. “He’s in there, Nash. I can feel it.”
Wrinkling his brow, he said, “What are all these cars? There’s a truck around the side, that Jag and a BMW.”
“That BMW belongs to Lanier.” She tucked her fingers in the back of his waistband. “I’m sure of it. Why would he be out here?”
“And the Jag?”
“I don’t have a clue. Seems a little high-end for a bodyguard or a nanny.”
“We can’t go in with all those people there, and the movement behind the curtain means it’s not just the guard who’s awake.” Nash withdrew his own weapon. His muscles ached with tension.
The guard wouldn’t move. As the guy lit another smoke, Nash hunkered down and got comfortable behind the fence post, Emily’s quivering body beside his.
They both jumped when the front door of the cottage burst open, and a woman strode outside, her head turned over her shoulder, long, dark hair flying. Her shouting carried through the desert calm.
“I’m sick of it, Marcus. If that kid is yours, we’re finished.” She jangled a set of keys at the doorway. “No more of your ridiculous stories. How the hell would you be able to kidnap a Border Patrol agent’s baby?”
Emily
