Taker - A Single Dad's New Baby Romance (Criminal Passions Book 4) Read online

  “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  “There’s one operation we haven’t been able to get a break on. And it’s one we’ve got reason to suspect is here in the FBI itself.”

  I realized right away who he was referring to.

  “Marshall.”

  Simms nodded. “I’ve been working with internal affairs, trying to get Marshall hemmed up. But the man’s good, and he always manages to cover his tracks. Any time we get a lead on him and bust some of his lower-level guys, the trail always goes cold before it leads to him. But I know he’s been up to some serious shit.”

  “Serious shit is right,” I said. “How about drug-running, weapons deals, kidnapping, attempted murder—the list goes on.”

  “And that’s exactly why you’re here,” Simms said. “When Severin let us know you were meeting with him, tipping him off that Marshall was planning to take him out, we knew it was our chance to finally take you in. You’re a hard man to catch, you know? And when you went straight, we thought you might’ve been out of our grip for good.”

  “So now what? You’ve got me, and you want me to…what?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Help us take down Marshall for good. You were his right-hand man for years, and I’m willing to bet you’ve got all kinds of dirt on him.”

  “You could say that. But I also know he’s got men in Denver PD and the FBI. How do I know this isn’t some trick?”

  “What would the trick be? Marshall doesn’t play games like this.” He gestured to the room around us. “He wants you out of the way, he does it. No pretend arrests. Believe it or not, you’re in the hands of the good guys.”

  I still wasn’t sure whether or not I could trust Simms. But I was willing to hear him out.

  He went on. “We know all about what’s going on through our contacts. He tried to get you to kill a witness, and you didn’t do it, instead fleeing with her and your son. But you had to know he was going to come eventually, and that you’d need to think of something.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

  “Then here’s your chance. I know you’re not a bad guy, Tate. You quit when things got rough, and you did the right thing when you could’ve easily killed the girl and had Marshall cut you loose for good. I’m a man who believes in giving people second chances. So if you want to work with me, that’s what you’ll get.”

  “Explain.”

  “You work with me to help take down Marshall, and I look the other way with the major shit you did with him. And on top of that, I get the judge to expunge your record, take off that felony that’s been haunting you.”

  “And that’s it? I go free?”

  “That’s it. I keep you in custody for a few months so I can make sure nothing happens to you. But after you testify, that’s it—you’re out of the system for good.”

  But I didn’t care about me at that moment.

  “What about my son? What about Abbie?”

  “I understand you want to make sure they’re safe—I really do. And we’re going to get Abbie on our side. She’s a witness, after all. But right now, we need to process you and get a statement.”

  “Then take it right now, and then let’s move.”

  His expression was grim. “Not that easy. We can move later today, but first we need to process you.”

  “Process me? If Marshall finds out what happened, that I’m not doing what he asked, he’ll—”

  Simms raised his palm. “It’ll all be taken care of. For now, we’re going to get you to a secure location.”

  I rose, slamming my fist on the table. “Don’t you get it? They’re in danger.”

  But Simms stayed calm. “Mr. Dale, you need to consider your next moves very carefully. Right now, you’re in the only position that’ll result in the safety of your family and your freedom.”

  At that moment I didn’t give a damn about my freedom. But there was nothing to be done—yet.

  I dropped back into the chair and tried to calm myself down. “Fine. Do whatever you need to do.”

  A small smile formed on his lips. “Good. Smart. We’ll get you over to one of our safe houses and process you there. After that, we can talk about bringing your family back into town. Then we move on Marshall.”

  He turned toward the two-way mirror and made a gesture. Moments later, the doors opened and a pair of agents arrived.

  “These men will take you where you need to go,” Simms said. “We’ll be in touch soon, Mr. Dale. You’re going to be happy you made this decision.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  The agents moved to my sides.

  “Come with us,” said one of them.

  My eyes stayed on Simms as we left, anger running through me.

  The agents escorted me through the building, the three of us ending up in the parking garage in front of a large white van. I was put in the back, the doors locked, and soon we were off.

  I had to do something. Despite what Agent Simms seemed to think, there was no time to waste. I had no doubt Marshall was keeping tabs on me, and as soon as he realized the job wasn’t going to be done, he’d move in on Abbie and Connor.

  I searched around the van, trying to find some way to break out. But I knew even if I did, I’d still have to escape from a moving vehicle without the agents finding out.

  It wasn’t long before I got my chance.

  There was a screeching of tires, a collision, and the sound of metal grinding against metal.

  Then it all stopped. There was a commotion, followed by a struggle.

  The doors flew open and a pair of men stood at the back of the van.

  Men who weren’t agents. They were dressed in plain clothes, sneers on their faces as they laid eyes on me.

  “There he is,” said one of them.

  “Marshall’s eager to see you, buddy.”

  The men rushed into the car, hoping to overpower me. But I wasn’t about to go quietly.

  It’d been a long time since I’d been in a fight, but like riding a bicycle, it was something you never really forgot how to do.

  The first man came for me and I met him with a hard jab to the stomach. The air rushed out of his body and sent him staggering backward. The second man, surprised by how fast I moved, stood dumbfounded for a moment.

  All the time I needed.

  I grabbed him by the back of the head, slamming his face hard into the side of the van. The blow was solid enough that he was knocked out right away, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

  The other thug was still gathering his bearings from the punch, the air having been knocked out of his lungs. I swung around his side and to his back, wrapping my forearm around his neck and putting him into a hold. He struggled, trying to break free, but his movements became more and more sluggish as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Then, he was out.

  I took several deep breaths, letting my body calm. When I was ready, I hopped out of the van and assessed the situation.

  As I’d suspected, the men’s car had T-boned the van, slamming it into the front of a building on the abandoned block we’d been driving down. Up front, the agents had been beaten, both still in the front cab of the van. I checked them to make sure they weren’t in dire straits, and when I was certain they’d been nothing more than knocked out, I went over to the car the thugs had arrived in after checking the pockets of both and finding the keys.

  There was a gun in the glove compartment, and I made a silent vow to not use it unless I had to.

  It was time to move. I gunned the engine and pulled back onto the road. The scene was a mess, but the men were fine and I had bigger matters to worry about.

  Soon I was on the highway, making my way back to the Black Hills. I was tired, beat, and felt on the verge of collapsing.

  But I didn’t care. I was going to do whatever it took to save Abbie and Connor.

  Nothing would stop me.

  Chapter 20

  Abbie

  I watched from the
second-floor balcony as the storm rolled in. The last month we’d been in the cabin had brought mild weather, but it looked like that was about to change.

  “Whoa,” said Connor, at my side. “That looks intense.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “It means we’re going to need to stay inside tonight. I don’t want you going out there and getting lost or anything, okay? Especially with your father gone.”

  Connor looked up at me with his big blue eyes.

  “Is Dad going to be okay? He seemed angry last night.”

  “He wasn’t angry,” I said. “Well, not at us. But he’s going to come back soon.”

  A crack of lightning lit up the evening sky, and over the sweep of forested hills in the distance, I could see rain already pouring down.

  “Hey,” said Connor. “You know what?”

  “What, buddy?”

  “We never got to go to Mount Rushmore.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his innocence. “We’ll get to go soon, okay? Maybe not this vacation, but when we come back.”

  Really, I had no idea if we were ever going to come back. More than that, as much as I trusted Tate to get the job done, I knew there was a chance he might never return.

  The thought made me sick to my stomach. I loved him, of that there was no doubt. And it seemed the moment we realized our feelings for each other, fate conspired to tear us apart.

  Another flash of lightning ripped through the sky, this time followed up by booming thunder.

  “Wow!” said Connor, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “That’s so cool!”

  I knew it was silly, but the storm made me wish even more that Tate was there with us. Being around him made me feel safe, watched over. It was a feeling I’d never really known before, and now he was gone, I realized how much I missed it.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go back inside.”

  “We can’t stay out in the rain?”

  “No way. I don’t want you getting soaked.”

  “Oh, all right,” he said, disappointed.

  Together we went back into the house. I shut the door and made sure it was locked tight.

  “I’m hungry,” said Connor. “Can we make dinner?”

  I checked my phone, hoping for a text from Tate. But nothing. My stomach tensed.

  “Sure. I think it’s about that time. You want to make pizza tonight? We got some roll-out dough the last time we were in town.”

  “Yeah!”

  I smiled down at him. “Go on downstairs and get it ready. I’ll be there in a second.”

  He grinned before turning and running out of the room, eager to get started on dinner.

  I checked my phone again, as if I might’ve missed a text from Tate. Why the hell hadn’t he gotten in touch with me? He had to know how much I was worrying.

  But I reassured myself, thinking he must’ve had his reasons. Stressing out about it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. More than that, I knew that just like Tate was strong for me, I had to be strong for Connor.

  Especially if…

  I shook my head, not even wanting to consider the idea. But to be on the safe side, I went into the closet, my eyes settling on the floor panel where Tate had told me he’d stashed our emergency supplies.

  I kneeled down, removing the panel. Inside were several stacks of hundreds, more money than I’d ever seen in one place. A quick count put the total at around twenty thousand.

  Even as I tried to wrap my head around that number, something else caught my eye in the compartment.

  It was a gun.

  I picked it up, the black pistol heavy in my hand. I’d never used a gun before, had only the slightest idea of how to handle it—and that was mostly from TV.

  I pressed the button on the side of the handle, the container holding the bullets sliding out. I gasped at the sight of them, knowing this was a weapon ready to be used.

  It was too much. I pushed the bullet holder—the clip?—back into the gun and made sure the safety was on. My heart raced as I put it and the money back into the compartment and closed it up.

  Once that was all back in order, I left the bedroom and went down to the kitchen. Connor was there, already preparing the ingredients for our dinner.

  “Okay,” he said. “On my pizza I want tons of pepperoni. And maybe some meatballs too.”

  “Meatballs and pepperoni?” I asked. “That’s a lot of meat.”

  “I know. But I heard eating meat makes you strong, and I want to be tough like Dad.”

  I smiled, totally there for how much Connor loved his dad, and how much Tate loved him.

  Love. For me, growing up, it was something that had always been in short supply. Yet there it was in that strange home, so much my heart felt like it was about to burst.

  Another boom of thunder sounded out, and I turned my head just in time to see the rain begin to pour down. It rained hard, in heavy sheets that made it impossible to see even a few feet outside of the windows.

  “That’s so cool!” said Connor. “Storms are awesome.”

  “Come on, kid,” I said. “Let’s get this dinner going. I’m pretty hungry myself.”

  The truth was I couldn’t imagine eating a single bite. All I could think about was what was happening to Tate, and if he was okay.

  But I did my best to stay strong, to not let Connor see how scared I was. Someone had to be there for him.

  We went to work on the pizza, rolling out the dough and pre-baking it before adding our toppings. Then back into the oven it went, and I set the timer for ten minutes.

  “Are you sure we can’t go out into the rain?” Connor asked. “It’ll be fun, trust me. And when we’re done, the pizza will be ready and we can change into some other clothes.”

  “Not going to happen,” I said. “We’re staying inside until this is over and your dad’s back home.”

  “Fiiine.”

  Then he looked over my shoulder at the front of the cabin, his eyes focusing for a second before turning wide with excitement.

  “Look!” he said, pointing behind me. “Dad’s back!”

  I turned as quickly as I could, spotting a pair of headlights through the pouring rain. The storm was so intense that I couldn’t see what kind of car it was, whether or not it was Tate’s truck.

  “That’s him!” exclaimed Connor. “Come on! I want him to see what we’re making.”

  But something about it all seemed off.

  “Hey, Connor!” I shouted after him. “Don’t open the door!”

  But he was already grasping the handle. Through the rain I watched as someone approached, someone dressed in a heavy coat, tall, with a purposeful walk.

  Connor pulled the door open, the roar of the rain rushing into the house.

  “Dad!” he said. “Hurry and get in!”

  The man stepped slowly into the cabin, his face obscured by a gray hat.

  He took it off, and if there was any lingering hope that it was Tate, that dispelled it.

  It was Marshall.

  “Well, look who it is!” he said with a broad smile. He sniffed the air. “And look at you, you’ve already got dinner going for me.”

  “Where’s Dad?” asked Connor.

  “Your dad’s not coming back anytime soon,” said Marshall. “So have a seat, kiddo. We’ve got some stuff to talk about.”

  I rushed up to Marshall, raising my fists and preparing to slam them down hard on him. But he was too fast for me, too strong. He grabbed me by the wrists and shoved me onto the nearby couch.

  Once I was out of the way, he pulled off his coat and hung it up carefully before turning his eyes onto me.

  “Tate’s been a bad, bad boy,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “He did the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do.”

  “Where is he?” I asked, anger and fear in my voice.

  “He’s not coming back. And I’m going to let him know what happens when he gets on my bad side.”

  He grinned like a monster, stepping towa
rd me. All I could do was scream.

  Chapter 21

  Tate

  I drove as hard and fast as I could, only stopping for gas. As I made my way through Nebraska and into South Dakota, the sky darkened and a storm came in.

  It took all the strength I had to fight through my fatigue, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d stop to rest. Abbie and Connor were waiting for me, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Marshall was coming for them.

  I reached Williamston, taking the small road up into the woods and toward the cabin. Rain continued to pound on the roof of the car, and I had to slow down just to be able to see through it.

  When I was less than ten minutes away, the car began to sputter and groan. It slowed, steam coming out of the engine and disappearing into the sheets of rain coming down.

  Then it stopped.

  “Fuck!” I shouted. The car had taken a hard hit when it’d stopped the van, and I’d worried that it might not make it the entire way.

  And it didn’t. I was so close to my destination. But nothing was going to stop me.

  I opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, where I was instantly soaked from head to toe. I didn’t give a damn about that. Leaving the car, I broke out into a hard run, my boots sinking into the wet earth as if it were trying to pull me down into it.

  Soon I was in the woods, running through the trees as I made my way to the cabin. As I drew closer to it, I realized with a groan of frustration that I’d forgotten the gun in the glove compartment.

  But that didn’t matter. I knew I had one stashed away, and with any luck, I’d be there before Marshall arrived.

  I spotted the cabin in the distance, barely able to make out the shape of the massive building through the rain. A few lights were on inside, but I couldn’t see forms of people. There was, however, a black car parked in front.

  Marshall’s car. It was the sleek, dark sedan I’d seen in front of my old home.