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  Rivera wasn’t concerned about any of it, of course. He just expected results.

  “If he gets in the way, kill him too.”

  *

  Misty Lee had done wonders with the gardens. They’d always been beautiful, green, lush, and required an army of gardeners, but Misty Lee had gone in with a vision and made changes that turned Reynier’s Retreat into the envy of the Rochambeau Garden Club. Long sweeping lawns were planted with a variety of blooming flowers, ornamental grasses, and shrubs. Matt wouldn’t have noticed something as mundane as landscaping, but the transformation still stunned him each time he came out here since arriving two days ago. Who’d have thought his stepmama had it in her?

  No wonder Chris had decided to get married at Reynier’s Retreat instead of in a church. Workers were busy placing chairs, the florist fiddled with vines on the trellis, and the minister directed a run-through of the actual ceremony that managed to drag on at least an hour longer than Matt anticipated. Evie hadn’t called, and he didn’t bother trying her because he hoped she was sleeping. She wasn’t stupid, and she wouldn’t leave the grounds without telling him. Of that he was certain.

  Misty Lee sidled up to him, a Pomeranian tucked in one arm—and smashed up against her considerable assets—and batted her eyelashes. “You look bored, Matthew, honey.”

  “Not at all, Mother, dear.”

  Misty Lee giggled. She loved it when he called her mother for some silly reason. Anyone observing the two of them would probably think she was flirting, but then Misty Lee flirted with everyone. It was as natural to her as breathing.

  “Are you staying for dinner?”

  “I can’t.”

  She frowned. “Your daddy would love to see you, Matt. He said just this morning that he’s hardly talked to you since you got back.”

  Somehow, Matt doubted the senator had put it quite like that. The man was too busy playing the elder statesman to notice he hadn’t talked to his son more than ten minutes total in two days. But he would notice if it appeared Matt wasn’t playing the role of dutiful child.

  When he’d been little, the senator had always been about appearances. They’d been an ideal-looking family, even if the picture hadn’t been reality.

  And then his mother died, and the picture crumbled. Matt and Christina spent their childhoods with nannies and shockingly tacky stepmamas while their father spent his time getting people to vote for him—a task made more difficult by the stripper wives, but then Matt pretty much figured his father had counted on that. It was as if he’d wanted to self-destruct but couldn’t quite manage it.

  Matt ground his teeth. If the senator was thinking about him now, there had to be a reason for it other than a sudden urge to be a father.

  No doubt he was wondering if Matt was ready to leave the military and take his place at Girard Oil yet. That was a refrain Matt had heard before, and one he didn’t need to listen to right now.

  “There’s plenty of time.” He said it smoothly, evenly—though it was a lie. In a few short days, he was leaving again.

  And that didn’t bother him in the least. He’d never known what to say to his father. Any conversation between them always degenerated quickly. The old man didn’t like that he’d joined the military, and Matt didn’t like that his father had spent the best part of their childhood away from him and his sister.

  They were never going to see things the same way. Not only that, but Matt also had his own secrets to keep. There were things he’d done when he was a reckless teenager who resented his father that still caused him more shame than he liked to think about.

  There were things you did not do, lines you did not cross. And he’d crossed them long ago. There was no point in pretending things would ever be normal after all these years.

  Misty Lee was about to say something else when one of the caterers approached to ask a question. “Well I know I saw that dish in the sideboard just this morning.” She stood there frowning for a moment and then excused herself to rush off to find some ancient piece of family silver.

  The minister called for yet another run-through of the ceremony. As soon as Matt walked up the aisle with his assigned bridesmaid—a blushing young woman from Shreveport who slanted him heated glances and giggled nervously—he ducked out and sat down. Another five minutes and he was leaving. They’d already done this five times, and he was done.

  Besides, the sun was slipping behind the horizon, and it would soon be dark. Sarah’s kidnappers would make their move then. It was easier to hide and they were less likely to be seen when they met with Evie.

  And with him. He wasn’t letting her go by herself, no matter what they wanted.

  The senator caught his eye from where he stood with Chris at the end of the center aisle. His father looked unpleased. Whether it was with him or someone else, Matt didn’t really care.

  Since leaving home ten years ago, Matt had seen more of this world than his father could ever hope to imagine. Where once the old man had scared him half-silly, now Beauregard James Matthew Girard the Third was like a toothless old lion in Matt’s mind. Frightening at first, a nuisance maybe, but ultimately without the teeth to back up the threat.

  The military had done that for him. Taught him what was really scary in the world. And taught him how to defeat those fears.

  But if the board convening to discuss his fate next week decided he was no good for the U.S. Army after all, he’d find himself back in Rochambeau a whole lot sooner than planned. Provided he didn’t end up spending time in Fort Leavenworth military prison for gross negligence or for posing a threat to national security.

  And if he had to return to Rochambeau even for a little while, he knew the conversation about his future at Girard Oil would heat up to a boil.

  His gut churned at the thought. He couldn’t even begin to express how trapped that idea made him feel. He’d spent too many years living life on the edge to suddenly do something normal. Except, a little voice told him, normal was what a woman like Evie would want.

  He didn’t bother wondering where that thought came from. It was simply what she did to him, he was discovering.

  By the time the latest rehearsal was over, the shadows were stretching across the gardens. Matt stood. No way in hell was he staying for another one of these damn things.

  Chris caught him as he was striding down the aisle. “Leaving so soon?”

  Matt put his arm around her and hugged her. “Yeah, I have things to do tonight.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Do these things involve a pretty girl named Evie?”

  He smiled. “They might.”

  Her expression grew serious. “Don’t hurt her, Matt.”

  “What makes you think I’d do that?”

  She shrugged. “You said you weren’t settling down. And in case you didn’t know it, she’s pretty much always had a crush on you.”

  Old guilt bubbled to the surface. And pleasure, too. He liked the idea that Evie might still have feelings for him. “I appreciate the concern, but we’re adults now, Chris. We know what we’re doing.”

  “All right, but—”

  A loud crack echoed from the darkening bayou.

  “Damn rednecks.” Chris glowered. “They better not come around shooting birds tomorrow night when the reception’s going on.”

  Cold fear sliced down Matt’s spine. It could be Cajuns out hunting in the bayou, but there were other possibilities as well. Possibilities he couldn’t ignore.

  “I gotta run.” He gave his sister a hasty kiss on the cheek and strolled down the center aisle, whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  But once he passed out of sight of the gardens, he broke into a run.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EVIE WAS GONE. MATT BLAZED through the rooms, methodically checking for signs of her, but she wasn’t anywhere. Two cakes sat on the counter and the house smelled like chocolate. The front door had been locked, but the back door was open.

  Fear turned his gut to ice. He spr
inted for the safe he knew his father kept behind the Early American landscape in the study. He whipped the painting away and turned the dial. The combination hadn’t changed in years and he was counting on that still being the case. After the third click, he wrenched open the door and reached for the pistol that’d always been inside.

  The safe was empty. Fine time for the old man to remove it.

  Matt swore again and took off for the back veranda. He’d have to make do with a knife and years of intensive combat training. A litany of all his fuck ups ran through his brain.

  He should have left the rehearsal sooner. He shouldn’t have trusted that she would be fine, no matter that she was tough and smart. He should have protected her.

  He slipped into the backyard, scanning the bayou in either direction. If a boat had passed by, it wasn’t recent. There was no wake, no disturbance to indicate anyone had been here. His next option was to head for town and see if he could get a lead on her. Whoever had taken her couldn’t have gotten far, whether by boat or car.

  And someone had to have taken her. Evie wouldn’t have left without telling him. He was certain of it. He had to get it together and think like the machine he’d been trained to be.

  Or he could lose her for good.

  Matt bounded up the steps and back into the house, pulling up short when he stepped over the threshold.

  Evie looked up from where she was sitting at the island and shot him a weak smile. “They haven’t called yet. I’m getting worried.”

  She twirled her phone on the marble counter, lines of sadness and worry bracketing her mouth.

  Matt crossed the distance in two strides and crushed his mouth down on hers. She gasped, clutching him. Heat and want spiraled deep in his belly and made him long to strip her and lay her out on the marble island while he took his fill of her. His dick started to harden and he let her go abruptly, struggling to find his center. Focus, goddamn you.

  She looked stunned. And aroused. Her pink lips glistened. Her chest rose and fell a little faster than usual, her skin flushing. God, he wanted to taste her. All of her. One night wasn’t nearly enough.

  “What was that about?” She sounded as breathless as he felt.

  “Where have you been?” He was proud of how calm he sounded.

  “In the garage. I was cleaning up the mess we made.”

  The garage. Shit. He hadn’t looked in there. And why not? Another indication he was losing his touch. When he hadn’t found her in the house, he’d panicked. The garage had been the furthest thing from his mind.

  “Did you hear anything? Any noise?”

  She frowned. “No. Did something happen?”

  Matt shoved a hand through his hair. “No, nothing.” He’d heard gunshots. Chris heard them too. Maybe it was someone shooting birds, like she said. Or hunting gators, though it was out of season. Anything was possible around here. He wasn’t going to mention it to Evie and spook her, though.

  “Why haven’t they called?” Frustration was evident in her voice. “It makes no sense. Unless they’ve hurt Sarah.”

  Matt shook his head. “I’m not sure, but we can’t think like that. Sarah is their leverage to get what they want. Hurting her would be foolish.”

  At that moment, the phone vibrated across the marble. Evie gasped and looked up at him. Matt nodded.

  She grabbed it, her expression collapsing. “It’s another text message.”

  “What does it say?”

  She scrolled down, and he found himself wishing she had a smartphone so she could see the messages easier. “Oh my God, it’s them. Charlie’s. Ten p.m. Bring the files.” She met his gaze. “Files?”

  Matt swore. “It’s what I thought. We’re looking for flash memory—a thumb drive or a media card—or even a key card.”

  She looked perplexed. “I don’t have a thumb drive or a flash memory card. All the key cards I had went with the restaurant, and they were turned over with everything else. I don’t even have a computer anymore. I had to hock it for gas money.”

  Matt didn’t like the sound of that, but then he figured West probably wouldn’t have put the files somewhere as obvious as her computer. Too much danger she’d discover them. “He must have left something, Evie. Or at least they think he did. Do you have a camera? Maybe he put the info on the media card that goes there.”

  She looked crestfallen. “Even if he did, I lost the camera a couple of months ago. I left it on a table in a restaurant, and when I went back, it was gone. It wasn’t a good camera, so I figured I’d just have to buy a new one.”

  Shit. “But David would’ve thought you have the card, so maybe that’s the answer.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  He stared over her head, thinking. “We need a media card. I’ll get Billy to build a mock-up of files we can download onto a blank. It might buy us enough time to get Sarah.”

  “Who’s Billy?”

  He’d called Billy by his team name earlier. “The Kid. He’s a whiz with computers. He can make a file complicated enough to look real. It must be accounting files or business records for Rivera’s illegal activities that’ve got the guy so worked up. Billy can incorporate enough real information to fool our kidnappers… for a short while at least.”

  Or so he hoped. If Rivera’s people traveled with a computer expert in the group, it wouldn’t work. If Rivera had simply sent enforcers, that was another story. Then Matt had a good chance of pulling it off.

  “Where do we get a blank card?”

  “I’m hoping there’s one up at the house. The computer’s there anyway, so if we’re lucky this’ll be a quick trip.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly eight thirty, so we have a little time.”

  “And if you can’t find one?”

  “We’ll have to go shopping.”

  Evie’s smile was more genuine this time. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

  Her hand settled on his arm, stroked his skin, and left a wash of sensation trailing in its wake.

  “I’m just doing my job, Evie.”

  “No.” Her eyes were shining. “It’s more than that.” He started to protest, started to stop her before she confessed she’d convinced herself he was in love with her and happy-ever-after was right around the corner, but what she said wasn’t anything remotely like he expected. “You care about people, Matt. You can’t let anyone suffer if you think you can change it.”

  His chest felt tight. “It’s what I’ve been trained to do. You’d do the same thing if you were me.”

  “No, I don’t think I would.” She seemed troubled, but she looked away and he thought he might have imagined it.

  “Let’s get up to the house.” He squeezed her hand to reassure her. “We’ve got work to do.”

  She snapped him a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Matt laughed.

  *

  Sarah sucked back tears. It didn’t help. Crying only made her head hurt worse. But the cabin was dark and she was scared. The sounds of the swamp were deafening. Frogs, whippoorwills, and cicadas, among other things, sang night songs that penetrated the paper-thin walls.

  Brianna and Julian had left over an hour ago. They hadn’t said where they were going, when they’d be back, or even turned on a light. And, aside from a fast-food burger earlier, they hadn’t fed her in hours.

  She wasn’t cold, but she was cramped and hungry. And her freaking head hurt like it’d never hurt before. She screamed, just in case a fisherman was out there in another cabin. Or passing by. Someone could be frog gigging or night fishing. The swamp at night was no big deal to some of these old Cajuns who’d lived in it their whole lives. It wasn’t Sarah’s favorite place to be, but at least she was inside four walls. No gator was climbing the steps and opening the door to come eat her.

  She yanked the cuff against the iron headboard as if she could somehow free herself by sheer strength alone. She knew she couldn’t. The only thing she accomplished was rubbing her wrist raw. Her skin felt w
et and sticky as something oozed down to her elbow. She realized with a jolt that she’d made herself bleed. What kind of night creature might smell the blood and come to get her out here?

  Sarah strained her ears against the noise, finally heard the faint sputter of a motor coming closer. She had to save her breath in order to yell when the boat was passing in front of the cabin. She waited, her heart pounding so hard she thought she’d have a heart attack. The throbbing in her head kept time with her heart and her empty stomach churned.

  The boat drew closer and the motor cut. Fresh tears welled up. It was Brianna and Julian returning then, not a fisherman. A few moments later, she heard voices. Male and female. Then the door swung open and light from a lantern flooded the cabin. Sarah blinked as the pale beam stabbed into her irises.

  “So that’s her then?” The man who spoke was someone new. She couldn’t see him behind the lantern light but he didn’t sound like Julian or the other guy from last night.

  Brianna sounded smug. “Yep. We picked her up hitchhiking.”

  Sarah’s tongue burned with the urge to contradict the woman, but she kept her mouth shut. She hadn’t been hitchhiking at all. She’d been walking into town and she’d been dumb enough to get into the car because Brianna claimed to know Evie.

  “Stroke of luck,” the man said. “Amazing. And your luck’s just gotten better now that you’re working with me.”

  “I’m counting on you. You better not fuck this up or we’re both dead.”

  The man laughed. “You can hardly turn back now, can you, doll? You made your choice.”

  “Don’t make me regret it.”

  “You won’t. Soon as we get those files, we’ll be safe. And rich.”