Nate. Delores Fossen

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Nate - Delores Fossen Mills & Boon Intrigue

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cooker inside her as Nate sped past each building.

      “You can do something.” Nate’s voice was strained, like the muscles in his face. “You can keep watch for that van and try to figure out why those men did this.”

      That didn’t settle the panic, but it did cause her to freeze. Why had those men done this? Why had they specifically taken Nate’s daughter and her son?

      “You’re a cop,” she blurted out. “This could be connected to something you’ve done. Maybe someone has a grudge because you arrested him.” It was a possible motive. And that caused anger to replace some of the panic. “This could be your fault.”

      It wasn’t reasonable, but by God she wasn’t in a reasonable kind of mood. She wanted her son back.

      Nate kept his attention nailed to the road, but he also scowled. He clearly wasn’t pleased with her accusation. Or with her. But then he always scowled when she was around.

      “If this is my fault, then why did they take your son?” Nate asked.

      She opened her mouth to explain that away, but she couldn’t. Darcy could only sit there and let that sink in. It didn’t sink in well.

      “If I counted right, there were eight toddlers in that play group today. Eight,” he spat out with his teeth semi-clenched. “And they only took ours. They said cooperate or we’d never see our babies again. Our babies,” he emphasized. “So what the devil did you do to bring this down on us? You’re the one who likes to muck around with slime.”

      She shook her head, trying to get out the denial. Yes, she was a defense attorney. She’d even successfully defended the man who’d originally been arrested for masterminding the murder of Nate’s wife. But that was resolved. His wife’s killer was now dead, and so was her former client Charles Brennan.

      But he hadn’t been her only client.

      In the past she had indeed defended people with shady reputations, and in some cases she hadn’t been successful. Maybe one of those less-than-stellar clients was holding a grudge.

      Oh, mercy. Nate was right. This could all be her fault.

      The tears came. She’d been fighting them from the moment she realized something was wrong in the preschool, but she lost that fight now.

      “I need you to keep watch,” Nate growled. “You can’t do that if you’re crying, so dry your eyes and help me look for that van.”

      “But this is my fault.” She tried to choke back a sob but failed at that, too.

      “Stop thinking like a mother for just a second. They took both children so it’s connected to both of us. Not just me. Not just you. Both.

      Her gaze flew to his, and she met his frosty-metal eyes. The raw emotions of the moment were still there, deep in those shades of gray, but she could also see the cop now. Here was the formidable opponent she’d come up against in the past.

      “The man who killed your wife is dead,” she reminded him. “And so is the person who hired him.”

      “Wesley Dent isn’t in jail,” Nate provided. He took his attention off her and put it back on the road.

      Yes. Wesley Dent was her client. A San Antonio man under investigation for poisoning his wife. Dent had retained her a few days after his wife’s death because he was concerned about the accusatory tone the police were taking with him. She’d accompanied him to several interviews and had successfully argued to put limits on the search warrant that was being issued for his house and vehicles.

      And the lead investigator in the case was none other than Nate.

      Darcy gave that some thought and shook her head. “I don’t think Wesley Dent would do this. I’m not even sure he’s capable of poisoning anyone.”

      “He’s guilty,” Nate said with the complete confidence that only a cop could have.

      Darcy was far from convinced of that, but to the best of her knowledge, Dent was the only thing that connected Nate and her. Still, it didn’t matter at this point if Dent was the one responsible. They needed to find the van.

      Nate’s cell phone rang, and without picking it up, he jabbed the button to answer the call on speaker.

      “It’s Grayson,” the caller said.

      The sheriff, and from what she’d heard, a very capable lawman. Darcy held her breath, praying that he had good news.

      “Anything?” Nate immediately asked.

      “No. But we’re putting everything in place.” He paused just a second. “Dade said you have Ms. Burkhart in the vehicle with you.”

      “Yeah. She jumped in as I was driving away.”

      The sheriff mumbled something she didn’t catch, but it sounded like profanity. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that if you find this van, you should wait for backup. You two shouldn’t try to do this alone.”

      Nate paused, too. “No, we shouldn’t. But if I see that van, nothing is going to stop me. Just make sure you have a noose around the area. I don’t want them getting away.”

      “They won’t. Now, tell me about this note you gave Dade.”

      “It said, ‘Nate Ryland and Darcy Burkhart, we have them. Cooperate or you’ll never see your babies again.’ And yes, I know what that means.” Nate tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “They won’t harm the children because they want them for leverage. I think this is connected to a man named Wesley Dent. Call my captain and have Dent brought in for questioning. Beat the truth out of him if necessary.”

      Darcy knew she should object to that. She believed in the law with her whole heart. But her son’s safety suddenly seemed above the law.

      “I don’t suppose it’d do any good to ask you to come back to the station,” Grayson said. “We have plenty of people out looking for the van.”

      “I’m not coming back. Not until—” Nate’s eyes widened, and she followed his gaze to what had grabbed his attention.

      Oh, mercy. There was a black van on the side street. It was moving but not at a high speed.

      Noah could be in there.

      “I just spotted the possible escape vehicle on Elmore Road,” Nate relayed to his brother. “It’s on the move, and I’m in pursuit.”

      Nate turned his car on what had to be two wheels at most, and with the tires squealing, he maneuvered onto the narrow road. There were houses here, spaced far apart, but thankfully there didn’t seem to be any other traffic. Good thing, too, because Nate floored the accelerator and tore through the normally quiet neighborhood.

      So did the driver of the van.

      He sped up, which meant he had no doubt seen them. Not that she’d expected them to be able to sneak up on the vehicle, but Darcy had hoped they would be able to get closer so she could look inside the windows.

      Nate read off the license-plate

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