had been a strong disciplinarian, A.J.’s formative years had included a secure and loving environment. He’d earned his hard knocks as a military man. He’d jumped in at age seventeen and then spent the next fifteen years proving what he was really made of. An injury and the life-threatening infection that followed during his time in Afghanistan had ended that career. He didn’t talk about it. He shifted in his seat. Victoria was the only person at the agency who knew about it. His physical shortcoming prevented him from future military service, but it didn’t stop him from being a damned good investigator.
Being chosen by Victoria Colby-Camp as one of only a few new hires was proof enough.
A.J. Braddock wasn’t down for the count by a long shot. He still had some good years in front of him.
With his experience in the desolate mountains of Afghanistan, tracking one misguided young woman in Mexico would be a piece of cake. He would not fail in this mission. Victoria was counting on him. And he needed his work at the Colby Agency to give him something to look forward to, to hang on to. He wasn’t ready to give up on being all he could be. No matter what the doctors said.
He wasn’t dead yet.
Chapter Three
The Sierra Madre mountains, washed in green forest, jutted upward around the desolation of the desert and were a sharp contrast to all that surrounded it. The desert scrub and cacti of the expansive terrain she’d traveled for miles after leaving the village had given way to the rugged landscape at the foothills of the mountains, but the Jeep she’d rented had handled the drive easily.
Her patience and persistence had paid off. A kid, maybe twelve or thirteen, who’d made a delivery to the Sloan residence from the local market had given her directions.
For a price.
She hadn’t haggled with him. At least, not once she’d seen a sort of kindred soul in his eyes. This kid hadn’t needed any more grief in his life. From what Gabrielle had deciphered from the conversation, his mother was ill and he drove the broken-down truck his father had left behind when he’d deserted the family years ago. The kid helped put food on the table for his three brothers and sisters.
Life sucked that way all too often, Gabrielle decided. But the kid…he reminded her of herself. He wouldn’t let it get him down. Instead he’d do what he had to. No matter the personal cost.
She focused a little more closely on the house in the distance. She’d decided that getting too close without sizing up the situation wouldn’t be a smart move. Instead she’d driven around it, parked at the base of the mountains and then climbed for a while. Just long enough to find a decent position for scouting out the property.
“Some digs,” she muttered as she surveyed the massive residence once more.
A fortress. A ten- or twelve-foot wall completely surrounded the property, which included a monstrosity of a house and sizable grounds, as well. A large iron gate allowed entrance from the front, if one possessed the proper credentials. Probably a numeric code at the very least. Another gate provided a secondary exit at the rear of the property. She could see a pool and what could be a detached garage or rather large workshop. The stuccoed exterior and red-tiled roof of the main house gave the place a rustic Southwestern style.
Apparently murder paid well.
Fury boiled up inside Gabrielle, but she wrestled it aside. She had to stay focused. Losing her temper or having an emotional outburst would be detrimental to that task.
No vehicles were in view. She supposed they were parked in the garage. In the past half hour she hadn’t noted any activity period.
Getting onto the grounds wouldn’t be easy. She’d definitely have to wait for the cover of darkness to attempt any sort of move. Even then—she scanned the rear gate once more—security might include motion sensors. But that was a risk she’d just have to take.
Movement beyond the front of the property snagged her attention and she focused her binoculars to check out the vehicle approaching from the road that led to town.
Her heart rate bumped up a notch. This could be him. This could be Sloan.
The vehicle stopped at the gate. A truck. Full size. Maybe four-wheel drive judging by how high the chassis sat off the ground.
A man, dark hair, dark complexion, entered a code into the keypad. Not Sloan, Gabrielle decided. He had blondish hair and this guy looked like a native of the country versus just a guy with a deep tan.
As she watched, a woman in the passenger seat leaned past the driver and pressed her thumb to some part of the security keypad device.
Fingerprint analysis. Oh, yeah, Gabrielle had known security would be tight.
The gate opened and the truck rolled forward to park directly in front of the main entrance to the house. Before the two passengers were out of the vehicle, the gate had closed securely back into place.
If Gabrielle waited until the visitors left, she might be able to slip through the gate as it closed. It would be dark soon. She glanced at the setting sun. That might work. But she would need to get into position right away. Who knew how long these people would stay or whether or not they were permanent residents? They could be the hired help. The kid from the market had mentioned there was a man who helped around the house.
Gabrielle started to put her binoculars away and get to her feet, but new movement near the house stopped her.
What the hell?
She peered through the binoculars, hardly believing her eyes.
Two boys, one small, nine or ten maybe, another thirteen or older considering his manlike features, ran out of the house and toward the rear gate. Another man, this one much older and clearly Mexican with slight features, hurried after them.
The older man abruptly fell forward onto the stone courtyard. The driver of the truck rushed up to him. Shot the old man twice in the back.
Gabrielle jerked with each sound that echoed against the mountains around her. She scrambled to her feet, almost falling in the process.
“What the hell are they doing?”
The woman, the passenger from the truck, rushed up to the man with the gun. She appeared to be screaming at him. She, too, looked like a local. Dark hair, dark skin. Young.
The man with the gun grabbed her by the throat and said something to her. Something brutal, considering the cruel twist of his face. And then he ran after the boys.
Gabrielle tracked the course of the kids. They had made it through the rear gate but the man was gaining on them fast. Surely he wouldn’t…
Her gaze swung back to the woman who was now kneeling next to the old man. The woman cried and rocked back and forth as if she’d just lost a loved one.
Gabrielle’s attention shifted back to the kids. The older one was giving the guy with the gun a run for his money but the smaller boy…
“Damn.”
The guy had the little kid.
Adrenaline seared through Gabrielle’s veins. Her business here involved Sloan and only Sloan. Whatever the hell
