Trapped in Texas
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Barb Han
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Chapter One
Sean Hayes moved with ease on the trail leading to Hamilton Pool in Austin, Texas, despite the nerve damage in his hands causing them to twitch. It was early December and surprisingly warm outside. A weather front was due in a couple of days that was about to turn the temperatures upside down and was expected to last through the weekend. Sean hated the cold about as much as having a last-minute assignment dumped in his lap. He’d been close to the location of the spotting, so he’d agreed to make a detour instead of hitting the highway. Considering he was about to take indefinite leave from the private security firm where he worked, he figured he owed them one more. Mitch Razor and the team had been nothing but good to him.
“Tell me again who I’m looking for and how she is connected to the agency,” he said discreetly into the microphone attached to the button on his jacket sleeve.
“Best as I can tell she’s somehow related to Mitch,” Josiah Grady said. Sean and Josiah worked well together. He would miss his work buddy. The thought struck him as strange considering the two had worked together three years now and had never so much as gone out for a beer. Acquaintance might be a better word when he really thought about it. In this line of work, making friends wasn’t exactly a priority but he had no doubt each member of the organization would have his back. Most of the employees of Razor-Sharp Worldwide Security came from jobs they no longer wanted to talk about, or maybe they never did in the first place. The company hired more than its fair share of ex-military and the assignments kept them on the road and mostly alone.
“I take it we don’t know how,” he said quietly. The nondisclosure agreement alone meant Sean could never openly speak about what he really did. But this assignment just took on a whole new level of importance.
“Mitch isn’t saying,” Josiah stated as Sean hiked along the pathway, passing families with young children and both leashed and unleashed dogs. A redhead caught his eye. Was she the one? He double-checked his cell phone. The woman in the picture was wearing a baseball cap, but even with most of her fiery locks tucked inside, she was unmistakable. The body type was a perfect match, roughly five feet seven inches that was mostly made up of long and lean legs. A heart-shaped face and big hazel eyes were more proof he’d found who he came looking for. He discreetly snapped a pic so facial recognition software could confirm the match.
The response took less than five seconds. Target verified.
Sean had been given this one last assignment before heading home to the successful family cattle ranch after his brothers Callum and Rory had made the call that it would be best if everyone showed. Callum, the oldest of six, had been the first to send word after checking out the situation for himself. Their mother Marla had asked her children to come back to Cider Creek in order to take their rightful places. No one had jumped at the chance. Their overbearing grandfather was to blame. All of the disagreements and hostility should be water under the bridge now that Duncan Hayes was gone, and yet facing the ranch again was proving more difficult than it probably should.
Sean’s job was classified, or the next best thing to it, and a much better fit than cattle ranching under Duncan had been. Private security was a lucrative business. Mitch Razor was one of the best. If someone needed to disappear without a trace, they called Mitch. If someone needed protection, they called Mitch. If someone needed to find someone, they called Mitch. Sean located folks. He would help people disappear. But he refused to work protection details. Not after Kandahar.
“It’s her,” he said, low and under his breath. “Out here, there isn’t a whole lot I can do without drawing attention.” Attention wasn’t ideal. Otherwise, he could throw her over his shoulder caveman-style to get her back to his SUV—although, the determined set to her chin told him she was a fighter.
“Roger that,” Josiah agreed.
This was a game of patience. Sean needed to stay just enough out of sight not to cause her to notice him but close enough to keep an eye on which way she turned. He stopped long enough to take a knee and fake tying his hiking boot. He kept a rucksack in the backseat of his SUV, which he’d tossed on his back to further the illusion he was on a trail hike. Having the boots on hand had been a lucky bonus find.
“You coming back after leave?” Josiah asked. The question caught Sean off guard as a guy came running past. The dude almost trampled Sean. There was something about the runner that fired off warning flares inside Sean’s brain.
On closer examination, he noticed a couple of things. One, the guy wasn’t wearing a backpack. Two, he had on a whole lot of black—jeans, shirt, shoes. Three, he wore running shoes instead of boots. Plus, sunglasses. They wouldn’t be a huge surprise except for the fact he was trying to sell himself as a jogger.
There was, however, something that caused Sean’s blood to run cold. His eyes were locked on to Sean’s target.
“I have competition,” Sean said into his microphone as he scanned the area, ignoring Josiah’s question. As it was, he could cut into the trees and run full force around the back to get to the redhead first. The other option was to shoot his competition. “Give me her name.”
“Roger that. The target’s first name is Raelynn,” Josiah stated.
In a split second, Sean calculated the odds of getting to Raelynn first. He would fail. He could, however, slow down the runner long enough to convince Raelynn her safety depended on listening to everything he said to do.
Sean reached inside his rucksack for his stun gun as he took off running. He could comfortably hit a mark at twenty feet out in these conditions without risking hitting an innocent bystander. A clearing up ahead might provide the perfect opportunity to get off a clean shot.
The runner glanced backward in time to catch Sean staring right at him. This scene was about to get ugly.
“Get down and stay down,” he urged a family of four as he bolted right past them. The youngest son who looked to be about four years old clasped his hands together, index fingers pointing outward like a gun. The visual was all Runner needed to start zigzagging through trees. The move made getting off a clean shot next to impossible and Sean only had himself to thank. He bit back a string of curses.
Raelynn caught on to the commotion, too. Like a startled deer, she broke into a dead run in the opposite direction. So, yeah, this day was going to hell in a handbasket faster than Sean could utter the words bad idea.
Since Runner was his first priority right now, Sean had to risk losing visual with his target. Branches slapped him in the face as he bolted through the trees, trying to get close enough to Runner to fire off a shot. The guy was quick on his feet but the stun gun would change that.
Other than general body type and description, Sean couldn’t get close enough to see details like Runner’s hair color or facial features. Not everything was lost, though. Sean was gaining on the guy.
Runner swiveled behind a tree. The turnaround happened so fast that it scarcely registered. The crack of a bullet split the air. Panicked screams echoed through the trees as Sean grabbed a tree trunk to put some mass in between him and shrapnel. Through sheer luck, Sean escaped picking metal fragments out of his body by inches. The voice in his earpiece was going nuts at this point. Josiah heard everything via the microphone pinned to Sean’s shirt. Sean’s panting, as well as the thunder of his hiking boots on hard terrain, must have been battering Josiah’s ears. Plus, the shot fired. Anyone who’d worked in the military or law enforcement had the sound etched into their brains.
The worst part? Runner had disappeared.
GASPING FOR AIR, Raelynn Simmons pushed her legs long past the point her thighs burned. The sound of a gunshot echoed but she couldn’t risk stopping to see what might be behind her. A few seconds could give her chaser time to catch up.
He’d found her. Whoever he was. She’d been on the down low ever since the close call in Fort Worth after her last show before pulling out of the tour. Opening for Texas Country had been the boost her career had desperately needed, and she was finally on the cusp of reaching so many people with her music. The thought of losing it all now over an obsessed stalker was a rock in her chest. Staying alive meant being on the run like a common criminal. There weren’t a whole lot of other options. The cops couldn’t keep her safe while on tour and she couldn’t afford a personal bodyguard. The stalker had gotten past Texas Country’s security team to steal her underwear and bra from her dressing room. The last FBI agent who spoke to her was a profiler. He’d informed her that the person stalking her wanted to possess her. The thought sent an icy chill racing down her spine. Creep.
Right now, she had a more immediate problem. How did she get out of her current situation alive?
The agent had assured her the stalker wouldn’t try to kill her. He wanted her alive. A shiver rocked her body at the thought. Then came the last not-so-cryptic message that had been sent to her fan club manager. Get back on stage or die. According to the agent, the stalker’s fixation had to do with a fantasy about her while she was performing. If he couldn’t have that, she was no use to him any longer. Rather than move on, someone who was fixated would see her as the problem.
Her problems didn’t end there. Backing out of the tour had caused her to rack up enemies in the business. Even when the dust settled and this creep was locked behind bars—which she could only pray would be soon—all the momentum she’d gained in her career would have slipped away each week she couldn’t be on tour. Every canceled show set her back months—if not years—of hard-earned career growth. Her reputation was tanking by the minute, and she couldn’t do anything about it without putting her life at risk.
Since the law couldn’t do anything to prevent a crime, they’d been of very little help to her. Checking on her past complaints netted the same result: a detective promised to call if there was a development. There was a serious flaw in his logic. If the guy struck again, she would be the first to know.
Raelynn kept running even as her lungs clawed for air. Pandemonium had followed the gunshot; people had scattered like buckshot and there were enough folks around that she had a real chance of getting out of this situation alive. At least, she hoped.
Risking a glance, a small moment of relief struck as she saw that she was alone. For how long, she had no idea. She’d lost her bearings and had no idea where she was in the park. Could she circle back?
The thought of running into the shooter, or the man who’d popped up to chase him before he could have possibly known about the threat, sent another icy chill racing down her back. There’d been too many close calls before she’d gone into hiding and too many since then for her to let her guard down. It was only a matter of time before the odds worked against her no matter how sharp, focused and vigilant she stayed. At some point, the probability he would find her would tip in his favor.
Then what?
Raelynn had no idea what this man ultimately wanted from her. The thought of a stalker sickened her to no end. Hiding at the preserve had been the only move, no matter how much she wanted to stand up and fight. This wasn’t a run-of-the-mill playground bully she was facing. This guy meant business and he seemed locked onto one thing...her.
Cutting left, she ran deeper into the thicket. She’d been running for what seemed like forever now but was probably just a few minutes. The dry uplands were ahead, which meant the canyon would be eighty feet below. Being on higher ground would give her better visibility of the area. Another thought struck—a dark thought: it would also make her an easier target in some ways. She reminded herself not to get too lax as she rushed through the trees and branches slapped her face.
Blasting ahead, she ran smack into a spiderweb the size of Texas. Spitting and frantically wiping her face to remove the last remnants of the cobweb while doing a dance no one needed to see, she froze when she heard a male voice coming from deeper in the woods. Her heart pounded out a staccato rhythm against the inside of her rib cage as she heard him repeat her name in a whisper.
She’d made too much noise thanks to the unexpected run-in with nature. Had he found her?
Raelynn dropped down, crouching low enough to make herself a small target. Scanning the ground, she searched for anything she could use either to stay hidden or to fight back. Feeling around, her fingers located a stick with a reasonable point on the end. She grabbed it and a blunt rock that fit comfortably inside her palm.
The footsteps grew louder as she focused on making her palms warm—a trick she’d learned in yoga class a few years back to help calm her. She’d taken the class to learn how to counter the anxious feelings that always seemed to creep up on her when she tried to get close to anyone. Her relationship track record could best be described as a battlefield littered with carcasses—tough imagery when she really thought about it, but an honest assessment, as much as she hated to admit it.
Raelynn listened as her gaze skimmed the thicket. The voice sounded hushed.
Reality dawned that her stalker wouldn’t exactly want to draw attention to himself by talking. Plus, who would he be talking to anyway? As far as she could tell, he’d been alone.
A father shielding a small child emerged, cautiously scanning the area. His gaze landed on her and he immediately put his arm in front of his kid. Raelynn didn’t spend a whole lot of time around humans tinier than four feet tall, but this one looked to be around kindergarten age. The maternal gene seemed to have skipped her. The only tangible thing she ever connected with was music.
The fact Pappa Bear over there had spotted her meant she was easy to see. Before anyone else came out of those trees, she needed to move.
The sun was bearing down on that spot on the crown of her head that always seemed to draw the heat. She moved deeper into the trees for relief since the temperature was climbing during this unseasonable heat wave.
A noise to her left startled her. Before she could look over, someone lunged at her. A hand covered her mouth before she could scream. And a voice in her ear said, “Don’t panic. I’m here to help but if you scream the shooter will have no problem killing us both. Understand?”
She nodded while evaluating her options.
“If I move my hand, do you promise not to make a peep?” the strong male voice asked. His deep baritone traveled over her and through her, despite never having met him before.
She nodded, realizing she had no options. At this point, she had to hope he could be trusted, because right now, her life was in his hands.
