Holden
When a baby goes mising, a Texas marshal and a woman from his past discover there's a whole lot more behind this kidnapping…Holden Ryland certainly didn't become a marshal just to end up busting his ex, Nicky Hart, for taking files from Conceptions Fertility Clinic. But only Nicky knows just what was really stolen: a newborn being held for ransom. A newborn who is kin to both her and Holden. The missing boy is only the start of a mystery that snakes through Texas, winding its way through their families. Bad blood may linger between them, but Holden can protect his nephew back at the Silver Creek Ranch. If they can lay their past to rest to rescue this child, is it possible for them to have a future together?
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When a baby goes missing, a Texas marshal and a woman from his past discover thereâs a whole lot more behind this kidnappingâ¦
Holden Ryland certainly didnât become a marshal just to end up busting his ex, Nicky Hart, for taking files from Conceptions Fertility Clinic. But only Nicky knows just what was really stolen: a newborn being held for ransom. A newborn who is kin to both her and Holden. The missing boy is only the start of a mystery that snakes through Texas, winding its way through their families. Bad blood may linger between them, but Holden can protect his nephew back at the Silver Creek Ranch. If they can lay their past to rest to rescue this child, is it possible for them to have a future together?
The baby had to come first.
Both men started to move. She saw one of them grab the carrier seat with the baby, and the other took some keys from his pocket.
Holden got them moving, too. Fast. Off the porch, and he headed straight for the car. The moment they reached it, he maneuvered her to the far side away from the house, and they ducked down.
He pulled out a knife from his pocket and jammed it into the front tire and went to the rear to do the same. That would slow them down, but it wouldnât stop them. Those men were in a hurry to get out of there, and theyâd drive on the rims if they had to.
The men raced out the door of the house, making a beeline for the car. They were just yards away when Nicky heard a sound she didnât want to hear.
Footsteps.
Behind Holden and her.
Holden pivoted, aiming his gun, but it was already too late.
DELORES FOSSEN, a USA TODAY bestselling author, has sold over fifty novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. Sheâs received a Booksellersâ Best Award and an RT Reviewersâ Choice Best Book Award. She was also a finalist for a prestigious RITA® Award. Contact her at www.deloresfossen.com.
Contents
Something wasnât right.
US Marshal Holden Ryland didnât have to rely on his lawmanâs instincts to know that. The Craftsman-style house was pitch-dark except for a single dim light in the front room. The home owner, Nicky Hart, hated the dark, and whenever she was home, every light was usually blazing.
So, either sheâd skipped out on their little chat, or... Holden decided to go with the skipping-out theory because at the moment it was the lesser of two evils. After all, there was a reason why they needed to talk.
A bad one.
Holden slid his hand over the gun in his holster and got out of his truck. Heâd barely made it a few steps when her white cat came darting out from beneath the porch. It headed right toward him, coiling around his leg and meowing.
Another sign that something was wrong.
Nicky didnât let the cat outsideâever.
So, was Nicky inside? And if so, had something happened to her? Holden cursed himself for not having done a silent approach. That way, he could have parked up the street, slipped around to the side of the house and looked in the windows. It might have alerted her neighbors, but that was better than dealing with some of the bad scenarios going through his head. Still, he hadnât taken that precaution because he hadnât figured he would run in to any kind of immediate trouble.
Well, no trouble other than an argument with Nicky.
When heâd called Nicky an hour earlier and told her that he was on his way to their hometown of Silver Creek to talk to her, she hadnât said a word about anything being wrong. In fact, she sounded as if sheâd been expecting his call. But then, sheâd sent a text just a few minutes later, saying she wouldnât be available after all.
Right.
Holden wasnât about to believe that lie. She was dodging him. And not doing a very good job of it, either, because her garage door was up, and he could see her car. That meant she was probably inside and that there was a good explanation for no lights on and the cat being outside. He hoped there was a good explanation anyway.
He kept watch around him, kept watch of the house, too, and made his way to the porch. However, before Holden could even ring the bell, the front door flew open, and he braced himself for what he might see.
But it was only Nicky.
He looked at her, from head to toe. She was wearing jeans and an old concert T-shirt, and had her auburn hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. No visible injuries or signs of distress. She was scowling at him, but over the past year or so, that was the norm whenever she laid eyes on him.
âDidnât you get my text?â she asked.
âGot it. Ignored it. Because we need to talk.â Holden moved to go around her and inside, but she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
