Critical Strike

Book 1: San Antonio Security

by Janie Crouch

Genres: Romantic Suspense; Mystery; Military Romance; Suspense

Synopsis

You won't want to miss this heart-pounding bodyguard thriller from Janie Crouch. Previously Published as Texas Bodyguard: Luke.

She’s seen too much
And he’s running out of time to save her…

The last person security expert Luke Patterson ever expected to see again is in desperate trouble. Claire Wallace witnessed her boss’s murder…and the killer is tearing her quiet life apart to find her. Luke will do anything to protect the childhood friend he never forgot. But as their secrets become an inescapable trap, will they survive to have any future?

From Harlequin Intrigue: Seek thrills. Solve crimes. Justice served.

Discover more action-packed stories in the San Antonio Security series. All books are stand-alone with uplifting endings but were published in the following order:

• Critical Strike
• Edge of Danger
• Two Steps Ahead

 

Release date: October 29, 2024

Publisher: Harlequin

Print pages: 224

Sample

Prologue

Everything in this house was clean.

The kitchen had been recently mopped and wiped down to almost sparkling. The bedsheets were freshly laundered; soft, not scratchy like what he was used to. The shower was clean, his clothes were clean, the walls were clean. Everything was clean.

But Luke was dirty.

He’d been at the Pattersons’ house for a month. Hadn’t been hit or kicked by adults or the other three boys who lived here. Kids could sometimes be the most vicious, especially ones feeling like they needed to defend their territory. But not these guys.

Luke had his own room in this giant old house. He definitely hadn’t had his own room at the group home. Or on the streets when he’d run away.

And his door locked. Clinton Patterson, the guy here with his wife, had shown Luke how to use the lock.

That was all great, but Luke still put the wooden desk chair under the doorknob every night. It wouldn’t keep someone out, but it would at least warn him if someone was trying to get in.

The three other boys living here seemed okay. They were all foster kids, and all close to fourteen like Luke. Luke had seen one of them, Brax—what a stupid name—last year for a few days at Skyline Park group home, before Luke had sneaked out again as soon as possible. By the time the cops had caught him and brought him back, Brax was gone.

The other two boys were okay, too. Weston was the quiet Black kid. He hardly ever said anything, but always let Luke play video games with him. The Hispanic kid, Chance, was supersmart. Luke didn’t mind him, either.

This place was way better than Skyline Park. It was probably temporary—great foster parents like Clinton and Sheila didn’t keep kids like Luke long-term. They adopted babies or sweet blonde angels who floated into group homes for a few months and needed someone to look out for them.

At least that was one good thing Luke had done. Maybe a few months in the Patterson house was his reward for helping out the little girl.

He sat up in his bed and swung his legs over the side. He was hungry. It was late and Clinton and Sheila were old as dirt—like forty or something—and had probably gone to bed. He could sneak some stuff like he’d been doing every night.

Because if being here was a reward, he might as well take advantage of it as long as he could. There were no locks on the pantry or fridge here. There was so much, no one even noticed that Luke was stealing food.

Going to bed not hungry had been nice, he wasn’t going to lie.

He got up, still fully dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and moved the chair from the doorknob. He padded down the stairs but stopped when he heard Clinton’s and Sheila’s voices in the kitchen. He was about to turn around and go back to his room when he realized they were talking about him.

He sat on the stairs so he could listen. If they were going to kick him out, it was better if he knew ahead of time.

“I just don’t feel like we’re reaching him, Clint. Even Weston, with his abuse, didn’t take this long for any sort of breakthrough.”

“Give him time.” Clinton’s voice was much deeper. “He’s been alone. On the streets and in that group home. We’ll get it shut down, don’t you worry. Now that social services knows exactly what’s going on, they’ll make changes.”

Sheila gave a shuddery sigh. “I’m just glad he’s here where we can keep him safe.”

A few seconds later, Luke heard chopping.

“Nothing else bad is going to happen to him. Not while he’s in our care.” More chopping. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cutting some carrots and celery sticks.”

Clinton let out a sigh. “It’s after ten thirty at night. Why?”

The chopping resumed. “He comes in every night and gets food. I thought I’d at least make him something nutritious. These vegetables, and I made a sandwich, too. Maybe he’ll eat that. I just want him to know he can have all the food he wants.”

“I love you, Sheila Patterson.” Clinton’s chuckle was muffled, like he was saying it with his lips pressed against something. “Luke is going to love you, too. Give him time.”

The chopping stopped. “He’s been so hurt. He’s been on his own too long. He tries to carry too much. He thinks we’re going to dump him at the first opportunity. I don’t know how—”

“Hey.” He cut her off. “Luke is strong. With the right guidance and nurturing, that strength will grow and flourish. He’s a protector.”

“But he’s also just a boy. I want to hug him... I wish he would let me.”

Luke couldn’t even think of the last time an adult had hugged him. He had no idea what he would do if Sheila tried.

“He will. Someday. When he’s ready. Now put that stuff away and let’s go to bed.”

Luke climbed the rest of the way down the stairs and hid in the dining room until Clinton and Sheila left the kitchen and went up the stairs to their bedroom. Then he slowly walked into the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and grabbed the plate with the sandwich and veggie sticks.

And it was the most delicious food he’d ever eaten.

 

Chapter One

Claire Wallace wasn’t a hero. No one, by any stretch of the imagination, would ever call her one.

Heroes were outgoing and good-looking and quick to take action.

She, on the other hand, was a relatively slow-moving, rather plain, introverted loner who rarely talked to others unless that “person” happened to be her cat, Khan. Khan didn’t tend to answer back, but that didn’t bother Claire much. She still preferred his company over almost anyone else’s.

Right now, she was sitting where she had sat almost every weekday for the past five years since she graduated from college—at her desk at Passage Digital, a software and phone app development company. Most of the people hired five years ago had moved up the corporate ladder at least a little bit. Claire still worked on the third floor with mostly newbs, fresh out of school with their first career-oriented job.

Not being promoted didn’t bother her much, either. Getting promoted generally required regularly interacting with other people and getting noticed.

Did she have crippling social anxiety? Yep.

Did she plan to tackle that any time soon? Nope.

A hero she was not. So when her coworker/partial boss, Julia Lindsey, emailed her an hour ago to be at her terminal at 10:00 a.m. and that it would make Claire a hero, Claire had been less than enthused. But here she was.

Maybe she wanted to offer Claire a promotion?

But promotions came with more responsibility, and more responsibility came with increased human interaction, and increased human interaction came with...

Claire pressed a hand to her suddenly tight chest. Had someone turned up the office’s heat?

Taking a deep breath, she did her best to shake off the bad feelings.

The clock kept ticking. It was only 10:02, but Julia had always been early to meetings; her punctuality was one of the things Claire had appreciated the most while they were working on the camera phone filter app Julia had conceived.

“Hey.” Claire reached a hand out toward the guy walking by her cubicle, not quite touching him.

Tom? Trent? Terrance?

Who knew? He’d been working there a couple of years, but the two of them had never spoken.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Uh...yeah?”

Claire cleared her throat, swallowing past the lump. “Have you seen Julia?”

Tom-Trent-Terrance shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

Claire nodded and slumped back into her chair. That had been hard enough. She wasn’t asking anybody else.

Julia probably wanted to talk about their cell phone filter app, Gouda. The first version of the app had been hugely popular. The new version they’d been working on—with a much more complex facial recognition matrix—would be able to do so much more.

Teenagers all over the country would be beside themselves with excitement as they were able to morph their faces into all sorts of animals, celebrities and objects.

Or would’ve, until Julia halted all work on Gouda last week. There’d been no explanation given for the project’s sudden stop, which was probably weird.

But, of course, Claire hadn’t asked for reasons. She never did.

Today’s meeting probably wasn’t about the app, anyway. That was over. It was probably related to doughnuts or something. Passing treats out would make anyone an office hero.

Claire’s phone beeped with a text from Julia.

Bring a portable drive to my office ASAP. Get on video chat.

Snatching up a portable drive, Claire did as instructed. Julia’s office was at the other end of the open work space, nice and private, with windows and its own door—exactly the kind of isolated area Claire dreamed of having.

The office was empty, but the computer screen wasn’t. Julia was already on the video chatting app the two of them had used regularly when working on their filter software. Her dark hair hung limp and tangled while bags underlined her eyes.

Taking a seat at the computer, Claire frowned. Julia was usually so polished.

“Are...are you okay?” Claire hated the way her voice shook.

“Listen, we don’t have much time.” Julia leaned closer to the screen. It was then that Claire recognized the board table in the background. Julia was in one of Passage Digital’s executive offices.

Did that mean she’d been called in for a meeting with CEO Vance Ballard? Was Gouda being green-lighted after all?

Julia licked her lips, seeming to not notice the hair falling in her face. “I don’t know who I can trust, but I believe you’re out of this entire mess. It’s gotten more dangerous than I thought.”

Claire’s stomach hardened. “What are you talking about?”

“Gouda. Ballard is using it to steal identification and money...from kids. He’s creating a database to utilize once these preteens become adults. He’ll be able to access their phones and bank accounts.”

They’d known this was a possibility with the camera software. 

Which was why they’d changed it—spent dozens of hours specifically designing it so the pictures that were taken weren’t stored.

Claire let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. “No. We took all those sensitive fields out—”

Julia shot a look over her shoulder at the door behind her. “And Ballard put them back in. Hook up the drive. I’m sending you everything that proves Ballard has knowledge about what the camera filters do.”

Claire’s hands shook so much that she wasn’t sure if it was physically possible to connect the drive to the USB port.

“I don’t think this is a good idea. We don’t know what—”

“Claire, we don’t have time. Do it. Hurry.”

Gulping, Claire did as she was told. Oh yeah, she definitely wasn’t hero material.

“We’re going to have to go to law enforcement. Ballard doesn’t know that I know, so we should be able to—” Julia sucked in a breath and glanced over her shoulder again.

The box with Julia’s face went small on Claire’s computer. This meant Julia had turned off the picture on her screen—Claire could see Julia, but nobody on the other end could see Claire.

Vance Ballard strode in with two big security guys behind him. “Trespassing in my office, Julia? That’s a shame...it truly is.”

The Passage Digital CEO’s voice was smooth and calm—making it even more frightening. He patted his graying hair as he strolled closer to Julia and the camera. Claire had only spoken to the older man once, muttering an apology when she bumped into him in the hall.

“I just left some papers I needed to pick up. But you’re right, I shouldn’t have come in here without permission. I’m sorry.” Julia sounded nervous and high-pitched—the opposite of Ballard.

“You left papers on my laptop?” Ballard raised an eyebrow. “Convenient.”

Claire looked over at the drive. Whatever Julia was sending was still transferring.

It didn’t take long for Ballard to realize it, either.

“Oh, Julia, what have you done?” He shook his head and reached for his laptop.

The transfer to the drive stopped. Now Ballard’s face took up most of the screen as he typed. At the very edge of what the camera captured, Claire could see Julia backing up until one of the large guards stopped her, holding her arm.

“Looks like you were transferring some pretty important data to your office,” he tsked as he turned to glance at Julia.

“I’m not going to let you steal all these people’s identities.” Julia tried to jerk herself away from the guard, but he held her tight. “And these filters are mostly for children. There are even more laws against that.”

Ballard shook his head. “You should’ve just minded your own business. I gave you the perfect out. Told you I’d take care of it. You should’ve looked the other way.”

He nodded at the man holding Julia and almost before Claire could process what was happening, the man grabbed Julia by the head and snapped her neck.

Claire clapped her hand over her mouth as she watched Julia’s body hit the ground, her eyes still open staring toward the laptop.

“Take care of this.” Ballard gestured toward Julia. “Make sure the body is found far away from this building and that it looks like an accident.”

Claire pressed a hand to her chest, her heart thumping uncontrollably against her shaking fingers.

Julia was dead.

Ballard had just had her killed.

“Go down to her office and get the drive she was sending the data to. Bring it back up here so I can look through it before destroying it.”

Claire had to get out of here. She pressed the key on Julia’s computer that downloaded the recorded interactions they’d had on each other’s screens.

Including, in this case, Julia’s murder.

It went straight onto the Passage Digital hard drive where Claire would be able to access it later.

But something happened on Ballard’s end, tipping him off.

“What the hell? That bitch was recording this whole thing?” Claire jumped back as Ballard’s face jerked right up to the camera. He couldn’t see her, but it sure felt like he could.

“We need to get to her office right away. Damage control.”

The monitor went blank.

Claire sat there, eyes wide, trying to draw enough air into her lungs. What should she do?

She could leave the drive, leave the footage of Julia’s death on the system, and nobody would know Claire had been here at all. But as soon as Ballard got hold of the drive and footage, he would wipe them both completely clean—and all proof of his wrongdoing would be gone.

Claire only had two or three minutes tops before Ballard’s men got here. If she was going to do something, she had to do it now.

Almost without conscious thought, her fingers were flying over the keyboard. She buried the footage of Julia’s murder deep inside the Passage Digital system. When Ballard tried to access it, it would look like a corrupted file—damaged beyond utilization. No link to Claire.

But if she took the hard drive, Ballard would know someone had been here. He wouldn’t know it was her, but how long would it take to figure it out? She stared at the drive, about twice the size and weight of a smartphone, still plugged into Julia’s computer.

She couldn’t let Ballard get away with this. With any of it.

She yanked the cord from the computer and grabbed the drive, then walked to the door. When she opened it, she expected to find the entire third floor staring at her, but no one so much as glanced in her direction.

Keeping her head down, she walked toward her desk. Nobody tried to engage her in any sort of conversation, as usual. Thank goodness.

She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she stay at her desk? Wait stuff out? Should she move? Get out of the building?

A voice from her group foster home days floated back into her mind. A voice she trusted. Luke. He’d never let her down, always protected her.

If you can walk away rather than fight, then do that. Especially you, kitten.

He’d never walked away from a fight. But for her, his advice had been true then and was true now. She grabbed her purse from her desk drawer, tossed the drive inside it, and walked down the corridor between rows of cubicles.

All she could hear was the thrashing of her own heartbeat in her ears when she saw Ballard’s men rush toward her. She couldn’t let them take her. She knew what would happen if they did.

But they didn’t even so much as glance at her, just brushed right by her, beelining for Julia’s office.

Claire didn’t look back, just kept a steady pace until she’d made it to the elevator. The doors couldn’t open fast enough, and she rushed inside the moment there was sufficient space, pounding the garage-level button with more force than necessary. Once the elevator had begun its descent to the lowest level, she began to shake.

“Come on, come on,” she murmured.

Just as Claire stepped out of the elevator, an announcement boomed over the loudspeaker that the building was being locked down due to a possible outside security threat.

She pushed through the elevator doors to the garage before they had a chance to seal her inside, racing toward her car. Once inside, Claire forced herself to drive at a reasonable speed out of the garage and onto the street.

Only after she’d made it onto the interstate did she finally feel like she could afford to breathe.

She’d made it out. But she knew she was far from safe.

 

Chapter Two

Luke Patterson rubbed his face and stared at the tall stack of paperwork covering most of his desk. Closing his eyes, he took a long sip of coffee.

Unfortunately, when he cracked his lids, all the papers were still there.

He sighed. “Damn it.”

San Antonio Security, the company he’d started with his brothers five years ago here in their hometown of San Antonio, really needed to hire an office manager. The business—everything from bodyguard-type work to situational awareness and weapons training to private investigation—had grown exponentially over the past few years. And rightfully so. Among the four of them, the Pattersons had years of background in both the military and law enforcement.

And they had all learned early on in their lives how the world really worked. How to reads situations and people, how to use people’s weaknesses against them when needed.

Having to turn away clients was a good place for a business to be. Buried under paperwork...not so much. But if it meant Luke could work with the three people he trusted most in the world—his brothers—then he’d take it.

He grabbed the top sheet from the most offensively large pile, ignoring the chiming from the bell on the office’s front door. Even if he wasn’t in paperwork purgatory, no one would expect Luke to meet a client entering the office. Brax liked talking to people, which was why his office was near the front.

Luke was the opposite. He was too gruff, too impatient with people to deal with them on a regular basis. Even Weston, quiet as he was, or Chance, always inside his own head, was better suited to talking with clients than Luke was.

A tap on Luke’s open office door a few moments later made him glance up. Brax stood there, a smile playing on the edges of his lips.

“Please tell me that’s the fire marshal and we’re all being ordered to abandon the building, saving me from this.” Luke gestured to his desk.

Brax only smiled wider. Despite the fact that the two of them could be as different as night and day, they were closer than Luke had ever believed possible. Their time together in the army probably had a lot to do with it.

Then again, Luke was equally tight with Weston and Chance, who had skipped the military in favor of careers in law enforcement.

“Someone’s here to see you.” Brax tilted his head toward the front of the office. “She asked for you by name.”

Luke sat straighter. “Who?”

No one ever asked for Luke, especially not women. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date. He blamed it on the business growth, but the truth was he hadn’t found a woman he’d felt like he could open up to—one who could even understand his past, much less accept it.

Brax glanced over his shoulder at someone down the short hall. “He said come on in.”

“I didn’t—”

The rest of the sentence died in Luke’s throat as a delicate blonde woman walked into the office, her big blue eyes pinned on him.

He knew her immediately. “Claire.”

“Luke.” Only one word, but her voice trembled as if she barely had the strength to say his name.

Scratches covered her arms, and she held a big gray cat close to her chest.

The scene was painfully familiar. As a kid, she’d been scratched and bruised way too often, and she’d never gone anywhere without her stuffed cat.

“Looks like you got yourself a real cat.” The words were out before Luke gave himself the chance to think them over.

He started to wince, but she smiled. “Yeah.”

What now? A handshake? A hug?

Nothing seemed right for the girl who’d never been far from his mind, even though he hadn’t seen her in fifteen years.

She loosened her hold on the giant cat, who jumped from her arms and landed gracefully on the chair in front of Luke’s desk.

Stepping forward, Claire offered her hand. Her palm trembled against his, her skin cold. Dark circles hung under her eyes, revealing exhaustion and fear.

“What are you doing here?” He forced himself to let go of her hand after briefly shaking it.

Claire withdrew her palm and hugged herself. “I saw you on TV a few months ago.”

Behind her, Brax snickered.

“Right.” Luke’s jaw tightened. “I remember that.”

It had been following the successful resolution of a kidnapping case. After a heated custody battle, a preteen girl had been taken by her father, who’d then proceeded to barricade the two of them in an abandoned house. As the Pattersons had been hired by the girl’s mom to help locate her, they’d assisted the police in recovery.

A news crew had shown up and stuck the microphone in Luke’s face before he’d gotten a chance to duck away. His brothers still made fun of how awkward and stiff he’d been on camera. But it had brought in even more business for San Antonio Security.

“Hey, did we hear the front door chime?” Weston’s head popped around the doorway, Chance close behind him.

Claire turned and took a rapid step away from them. The cat jumped into her arms and she clutched it to her, discomfort clear on her face.

Luke cleared his throat. “Claire, these are my brothers, Weston, Chance and—”

“Brax.” Brax stepped forward and offered Claire his hand. “I’m the mutt of the bunch.”

Most people did a double take when it was revealed the four were brothers. Since Luke was white, Chance was Hispanic, Weston was Black, and Brax was biracial, they looked nothing alike. Brothers, just not by blood.

Claire seemed to take it all in stride. But she wasn’t most people. She knew Luke hadn’t come from a traditional home.

Brax shook Claire’s hand against the cat for an unnecessarily long time. Luke had to swallow a growl in his throat.

Brax never had a problem finding a woman to date. His charm and wit made him pretty irresistible, not to mention his looks.

It was Chance who read the potential disaster of the situation and hooked a hand over Brax’s shoulder, pulling him back. “We, uh...have the storage closet to clean out.”

Brax’s nose wrinkled. “Since when?”

“Since now.” Weston tugged on Brax’s other arm. “It’s nice to meet you, Claire.”

Luke could hear his brothers whisper and the whoosh of air as either Chance or Weston no doubt hit Brax in the stomach.

And then he was alone with Claire.

With the others gone, the cat jumped to the floor and sat in front of Claire like he was her guard, his hard gaze locked on Luke.

“That thing looks like a watchdog.”

“Khan thinks he’s a dog. He’s protective.” Claire rubbed him with her foot. The cat looked at Claire, somehow knowing she was talking about him.

“Maine coon, right?”

Those cobalt blue eyes lit up with surprise. “Yeah.”

Back when they were kids in their group home, Luke gave Claire the nickname Kitten because she dragged around a stuffed animal cat. Half of what that little girl with braids made of sunshine and eyes cut from the sky talked about was getting a cat one day.

Looked like her biggest dream had finally come true. Despite the exhaustion apparent on her face and the scrapes and bruises, he was glad at least that much had happened for her.

“I’m glad you have someone looking out for you. I always wondered what happened to you.” Luke’s heart squeezed tight. He’d probably never admit to anyone just how much he’d thought about her.

“After I left the group home, I went into two long-term foster families.” Claire shrugged. “It worked out okay.”

It didn’t have to be added—she never got adopted.

“You?” Her pale eyebrows lifted.

Luke’s mouth went dry. He’d only stayed at the group home a handful of days following her departure. She was the only reason he hadn’t run away earlier. Claire had a way of always being the kid who got picked on, and she’d needed someone to watch out for her.

“Not long after you left, I was adopted by the Pattersons.” He chose to leave the few months on the streets, before he was found and dragged back to the group home, out of the story.

“Oh wow.”

“They adopted all four of us. Gave us the chance to take their name if we wanted, and all four of us did.” His voice swelled with pride. “Those two gave me a direction. Stability. I owe them my life.”

The look in her eyes said it was an experience she couldn’t relate to. He pointed to the chair across from his desk and she took a seat. Khan immediately jumped into her lap. Damn thing was nearly half the size she was.

“What about you? What do you do now?” He sat behind his desk,

hoping that if he got her talking it would help her to relax. And eventually get her to admit to whatever had brought her through San Antonio Security’s doors.

“Software design and programming.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but she was stiff.

“That’s great. You always did love computers.”

She fell into silence, not saying anything else about her work. But the hand that stroked Khan was unsteady.

He shifted some papers over so he could lean toward her. “Claire, I’m real glad you’re here, and you’re always welcome to visit... But I get the feeling you’re not here to catch up on old times.”

She slowly lifted her head, her throat rolling with a swallow. He wanted to leap over the desk and pull her into his arms. Promise her that everything would be okay, that he would help now like he’d tried to help then.

But she looked so fragile, like the slightest touch might break her.

He kept his tone gentle. “You have scratches. A bruise on your cheek.”

“I-I was mugged.”

“Do you know who did it?” He grabbed a pad of paper so he could write down details, ignoring the fury pooling in his gut at the thought of someone hurting her.

“No, I...” Avoiding his gaze, she licked her lips. “It’s been rough lately. I-I kind of started hanging out with the wrong people. I think it has something to do with them. And the guys who mugged me know where I live.”

He waited, knowing this wasn’t the whole story, but she didn’t say anything else. Claire was hiding something, the truth buried in details she wasn’t telling.

Not that he needed the full story. Not yet, anyway. She needed assistance, and hell if he wouldn’t do anything he could.

“How can I help, Kitten?”

He hadn’t meant to call her by that old nickname—didn’t even know if she would remember it—but its escape from his lips had been natural.

Claire wrapped her arms around Khan, peering out at Luke from over the protective creature’s head. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I can’t go home. The men who mugged me took all my credit cards and some of my cash.”

Luke kept his features carefully blank. Muggers stealing credit cards and leaving cash behind was highly unusual. It was yet another sign that Claire hid something, but he wouldn’t press for more. Not yet.

Not when she looked like she was going to shatter at any moment.

“When was the last time you got some sleep?”

“I’m not sure.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “A few nights... I didn’t know where to go.”

Still not the whole truth.

“I’m going to get you a hotel room,” Luke said. “I’ll pay for it.”

She parted her lips like she might protest, but in the end, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you. But I don’t want you to think that’s why I came here. I’m not trying to use you.”

“You’re not using me. I’m glad to help out an old friend. Once you get some sleep, we can figure out what to do next.”

She smiled, though it wasn’t without uncertainty. “Okay. Thank you.”

A few minutes later, he had her and Khan bundled into her car and she was following him to a motel a few miles away. He would’ve liked to put her up somewhere nicer—and closer—but she’d explained that Khan liked to go outside to use the bathroom so it would be more convenient not to stay at a traditional hotel.

Damn cat really did think he was a dog.

He took her to a motor lodge where she could let Khan in and out easily and could park right in front of her room. She waited in her car while he checked her in at the front desk, not wanting the clerk to

know she was staying alone.

When he came back out, Claire was staring out her windshield, almost glossy-eyed with exhaustion. He’d planned to take her out to a restaurant to eat and talk some more, but instead, he settled for driving her to a nearby fast-food joint where he made her eat. Greasy calories were better than none at all.

Back at the motor lodge he carried her small bag of belongings as he walked her to the door and placed the bag on the dresser inside. She looked like she was about to fall over. “Get some sleep. Everything will feel better after a night of rest, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, sitting down on the bed.

He didn’t want to leave her here alone, but sleep was the best thing for her right now. And he’d be much more useful back at the office digging into her situation more thoroughly.

“I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll talk more then. Lock the door behind me when I leave.”

She nodded. “Luke, I—” She stopped whatever she was going to say. “Thank you for helping me.”

Unable to stop himself, he softly touched her cheek. “Get some rest, Kitten. You’re not in this alone anymore.”

Chapter Three

Luke’s gaze was stuck to his rearview mirror as he drove away from the motel. Leaving Claire alone went against everything in his gut, but he had to do it.

He needed answers, and at that moment, they weren’t coming from her.

At the first stoplight, he put in a call to his friend over at the San Antonio PD, Rick Gavett.

“Gavett.” The background sounds of a busy police department undercut Rick’s voice.

“Rick, it’s Luke Patterson.”

“Luke! I usually get a call from Weston, not you. Who do you need found today?”

They’d all known Rick for years, although Weston was closest with him. He’d been on the force with Rick before a bullet during an undercover assignment gone wrong had ended Weston’s law enforcement career and almost his life. Rick had always been willing to help out San Antonio Security whenever he could.

“Not trying to find anyone today, believe it or not.” Luke looked in the rearview again, even though he couldn’t see the motor lodge any longer.

“No one? What, are you guys shutting down San Antonio Security or something?”

“Not while I’m alive and kicking.” The light turned green. “I need a different kind of favor from you today.”

“Do tell.”

 

“I have an old friend I need to check up on. (...)