Gone Missing

WITHOUT A TRACE

As a skip tracer in training, Joslyn Dimalanta knows she has the skills to track down her missing friend. As long as her friend’s startlingly handsome brother, Clay Ashton, doesn’t distract her. But then his sister’s house detonates—almost killing Clay and Joslyn. Now they realize the harsh reality: they must either find the person after Clay’s sister, or face deadly consequences. And the closer they get to exposing the source of the crimes, the more explosive surprises they discover. With every obstacle they overcome, Joslyn finds herself relying on Clay more and more. Still, the peril they face scares her less than the idea of trusting Clay with her wounded heart.

“I know you’re in there, Joslyn,” the man said through the door.

“We have Clay. Give yourself up and we won’t hurt him.”

She only had to stall them until the police arrived. But what if they killed Clay before that happened?

Then Clay’s voice sounded from behind the back door. “She’s not in there. I came alone.” They must have dragged him to the backyard, where there were fewer people to see.

“I know you’re lying,” the man said calmly to Clay.

Then Clay’s voice shot out in a cry of pain.

Joslyn forced herself to breathe, to relax. She had to stay calm, stay focused.

“Joslyn, come out or we’ll send Clay here to his stepdaddy in little pieces.”

Moving quietly and staying low, Joslyn crept from behind the table until she was behind the sink. She slowly rose until she could see outside the window that hung right over the sink.

The man shouted, “Joslyn, you come out right now, or I swear I’ll—”

Suddenly Clay snapped his head backward and clocked his captor full in the face. The man grunted, and Clay pulled free.

A gun went off.

CAMY TANG grew up in Hawaii and now lives in northern California with her engineer husband and rambunctious dog. She graduated from Stanford University and was a biologist researcher, but now she writes full-time. She is a staff worker for her church youth group and leads one of the Sunday worship teams. Visit camytang.com to read free short stories and subscribe to her email newsletter.

Gone

Missing

Camy Tang

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Above all, love each other deeply,

because love covers over a multitude of sins.

—1 Peter 4:8

For my grandmother, who showed me

what it was to be a strong woman. I will miss you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The man had danger written all over him.

Or maybe that was just Joslyn’s perception because of the grim cast to his mouth and the way his powerful body moved with the athletic grace of a man confident in his physical strength. His blue-gray eyes found hers across the hot sidewalk in front of Fiona Crowley’s Phoenix home, and her vision wavered as if he were a mirage.

The sun glinted off of the straight, blond-streaked, brown hair that fell over his forehead, and it triggered a memory for her. Fiona had the same hair color, and in pictures she’d shown Joslyn of her brother, they’d looked very much alike.

Joslyn looked more closely at the man as he closed the car door and approached her where she stood at the edge of Fiona’s front yard. He had golden-brown stubble that softened his square jaw, but there was no doubt that the shape of his face was the same as Fiona’s, although wider and more sharply cut.

“Are you...Clay?” Joslyn guessed as he stopped in front of her.

His low brow wrinkled. “Who are you?” His voice was deep but not gravelly, with a smoothness that made her think of honey.

The Arizona sun had been unbearably hot since six this morning, but it suddenly became a furnace. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her neck, and she wiped at it. “I’m Joslyn Dimalanta. I was good friends with Fiona when she lived in Los Angeles—we were classmates in the same master’s degree program. You’re her brother, right? You look exactly like her.”

“Half brother.” There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here looking for Fiona.” She straightened her shoulders. “I got a postcard from her—”

“When?” Clay’s eyes suddenly became more intense, and he took a half step toward her.

He wasn’t a large man, but something about the strength simmering beneath his wide shoulders gave Joslyn a flash of memory of her abusive ex-boyfriend, and her heartbeat went into red alert for a second. It must have showed on her face, because he looked conscientious and quickly stepped back.

She took a long breath before answering him. “Fiona sent it three weeks ago, but I only got it a few days ago. It was sent to my old address in LA.”

“Three weeks? I got a phone call from her three weeks ago.”

“What did she say? Is she all right?”

“She said, ‘Clay, help me,’ and then she hung up.” A muscle flexed in his jaw.