LITMIR.BIZ

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flashed a glance at the deputy. The young man was a minute from tongue-lolling in his blind adoration of the gorgeous widow.

      “Jeremy and Sarah are riding with me.” The kid had already rushed across the lot to the SUV, his fingers streaming along the silver fender as Royce’s itched to stream along Sarah’s thigh. Her silk trousers, molded against her by the slight breeze, silhouetted long, graceful legs. In his overtired, fevered mind, he could picture them wrapped around his hips as he buried himself inside her.

      He muffled a groan, surprised at his powerful reaction to her. She wasn’t his type at all, not that he could remember exactly what his type was.

      “Who are you?” The deputy’s tone rankled with suspicion and jealousy. Had Sarah given the young guy any reason to believe he had a claim on her?

      Dylan cleared his throat. “He’s a friend of mine, Jones, and I asked him to drive Mrs. Hutchins and Jeremy home.” He lowered his voice. “We have to check the car for prints. What did you learn from Doc’s office?”

      Mottled red rushed into the deputy’s face. “I—I—uh, Doc said only two things were missing from the break-in.”

      Royce shook his head. Some things didn’t matter, whether big city or small town. “Drugs?”

      A smug smile slid over the deputy’s face. “No.” His dark eyes flashed with victory and dismissal.

      Royce had been dismissed enough for one day. Although he probably should have escorted Sarah to the Avalanche, he lingered. “So what was stolen?”

      The deputy waited for the sheriff’s nod before he responded. “Two medical files.”

      The muscles tightened in Royce’s stomach as his instincts kicked. “Whose?”

      “Sarah’s and Jeremy’s.”

      “This just happened?”

      “Late last night is the doctor’s best guess.” Dylan answered this time.

      Not long after Royce had arrived. He’d found Sarah, but in doing so, whom had he led straight to her? If her son was in real danger, Royce was as much at fault as whoever had followed him.

      If he hadn’t already accepted it, he would have realized then that he had the right Sarah Mars because long ago he’d stopped believing in coincidence. The break-in at Bart’s, the shooting, the threat…what was the link? He didn’t doubt there was one.

      Sarah gasped. “Our records?”

      “Royce?” Dylan nudged his shoulder. “Let me give you directions to Sarah’s place.”

      Sarah sighed. “Obviously I’m being dismissed. I’ll accept that for now, but I still want an explanation about this theft, Dylan.”

      The sheriff’s brow creased with new tension lines. “Sarah…”

      She drew in an impatient breath. “Later. Now I’ll leave you two alone, but before I go, how is Lindsey?”

      Royce lifted a brow.

      “My wife,” Dylan answered his unspoken question. “And she’s not happy at being confined to bed.”

      Before a smile could tip up Royce’s mouth, the sheriff added, “She’s pregnant and keeps going into premature labor.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Yeah, you and me both. So far the doctors have managed to stop it. The baby can’t come this early.” More worry lines creased his forehead.

      “Let me know if I can do anything…” Sarah trailed off. Until she knew what the risk was to her son, Royce doubted she’d be able to think of anything else.

      “You can go home, Sarah, and take care of Jeremy. We’ll figure out what’s going on with this threat.”

      Royce surreptitiously surveyed the lot, then passed her the keys. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

      She nodded, frustration gleaming in her smoky eyes. “Don’t shield me, Dylan. My parents did that years ago, and we all suffered from their lies. I want the truth this time!” She glanced toward her son. “Later.” Then she stomped away, her heels nearly raising sparks on the asphalt.

      Dylan winced. “She’s right, and I didn’t handle that well.”

      Royce shrugged. “She’ll get over it.” He hazarded the guess.

      “I don’t know about that. Sarah doesn’t forgive easily.” Dylan squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I should have asked her to stay.”

      “So you’re not just giving me directions?” Royce’s stomach knotted. Maybe Dylan had seen through him already. Maybe he’d made a connection between Royce’s arrival in town and the threat to Sarah’s son.

      “No.” Dylan glanced at his blatantly eavesdropping deputy, then led Royce to the middle of the lot.

      Royce braced himself for an ugly confrontation with a man he’d always respected. “So?”

      “I’m asking for direction, Royce.”

      “What?”

      “This is what you’ve built your reputation on.”

      Royce squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out a barrage of images from his past. When he’d begun his search for Sarah Mars, he’d never imagined it might lead him back into a past he hadn’t been able to handle. “I don’t do that anymore, Dylan. Give me a missing diplomat in a foreign country, not a kid. I left the FBI a while ago, Dylan. And for a reason. You know that.”

      “I know you’re still called in when local law enforcement gets desperate. And I know you still come despite your reservations. You can’t walk away from a child in need, Royce.” Dylan’s fingers squeezed his shoulder, then slid away.

      Although Dylan spoke the truth, he didn’t know what it cost Royce.

      Another little piece of his soul. And he didn’t have much left to spare.

      His gut tightened. If he were smart, he’d walk away now. No, he’d run. Nobody had guaranteed that Bart would come out of the coma. In fact, they all doubted he would. So maybe he’d never know Royce hadn’t kept his promise.

      But Royce would know. He sighed.

      “Dylan, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m called in after the fact. I’m called in to track down the missing person. Jeremy’s not missing.” He’d kept the Avalanche and the boy in his sight at all times. And a certain red-haired woman, too.

      “I intend to keep it that way, Royce, but I need your help. I would handle it on my own, but with what’s going on with my wife…I’m too distracted.”

      Another reason he was relieved he was still single, thought Royce, as he saw the agony of worry in the sheriff’s blue eyes.

      “I hate to ask because I know you’re already working on something. But Royce, this is my nephew. And the theft of those medical records…”

      Royce nodded. “It’s not good.”

      “That’s happened before?”

      He nodded. “Yeah, kidnappers like to know about the kid’s medical conditions. If they’re not close enough to the kid personally, they’ll steal records. That way they know what meds he’s on, that sort of thing.”

      Dylan groaned. “I knew it was a bad sign.”

      Royce lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Could be a good sign, too. They want to keep him alive.”

      He’d seen other cases where the kidnappers hadn’t cared. His stomach burned, the ulcers he’d left behind with the FBI threatening to return.

      “So that note wasn’t the joke Sarah believes it is.”

      Royce narrowed his eyes on

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