LITMIR.BIZ

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is in there. A friend owns a security company, and he fed your photo through the software and came up with a match.”

      “Impossible.” His records were buried under layers and layers of false information. Of course, his face wasn’t buried. But any info about him was.

      “Not impossible. My friend is very good at what he does, and he had access to security cameras all over the state. He ran the facial-recognition software twenty-four/seven, until he finally spotted you at a bank in San Antonio. Then he asked around, offered money.” She hesitantly added, “And one of the bank employees gave us your name.”

      Russ wanted to punch the brick wall. He’d covered all bases, or so he thought. Yes, he had gone to the San Antonio bank to take care of some family business, but he hadn’t counted on a chatty employee ratting him out. Nor had he counted on anyone digging this deep to find him.

      “Even after we had your name, we couldn’t find out anything about you,” she continued. “Finally, one of the P.I.s who works for my friend spotted your face on a traffic-camera feed and was able to do the match. That’s how I knew you were in San Saba. The P.I. came down here, followed you for several days and found out where you were staying.”

      That was a P.I.? Russ had thought it was one of Milo’s men following him and checking him out. That’s why he hadn’t done anything about the tail. Mercy. And now that mistake had come back to bite him in the butt.

      “The P.I. wanted to approach you, but I thought it best if I did it myself,” she added. “Because it is such a personal matter.”

      Her explanation prompted more profanity and a dozen more questions, but Russ started with a simple one. “Why go through the trouble to look for me?”

      “Because of Lissa,” she said, as if the answer were obvious. “Lissa gave me your photograph.”

      Russ was sure he looked as pole-axed as he felt.

      “Who the hell is Lissa?”

      For the first time since they’d started this little wrestling match and confusing conversation, Julia relaxed. At least, she went limp, as if she’d huffed all the breath right out of her. “My first cousin, Lissa McIntyre.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you don’t remember her?”

      “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Russ answered, honestly.

      Her muscles went stiff again, and the remainder of the fear faded from her expression. It was replaced by a healthy dose of anger. “Let me refresh your memory. San Antonio. Last December. You met Lissa at a downtown bar, and after a night of drinking you went into one of those photo booths on the Riverwalk and had your picture taken.”

      Russ went through the past months. Yeah, it was possible he’d met a woman in a bar. But he certainly didn’t remember anybody named Lissa, and he absolutely didn’t remember taking a picture in a photo booth.

      “Why are you here?” he asked, pressing her further.

      “Because Lissa wanted me to find you.” Julia took a deep breath. “She’s dead. She was injured in the hostage standoff at the San Antonio Maternity Hospital two weeks ago. The doctors tried to save her but couldn’t.” Her voice broke, and tears sprang into her blue eyes. “She used her dying breath to ask me to find you.”

      He’d heard about the hostage situation, of course, it’d been all over the news. And he was also aware there’d been several deaths. But that had nothing to do with him.

      “I’m sorry for your loss,” Russ said, because he didn’t know what else to say. This still wasn’t making any sense. “But why the hell would your cousin want you to find me? “

      She stared at him. “You don’t remember?”

      “Remember what?”

      There was some movement at the back end of the alley. A shadow maybe. Maybe something worse. So Russ eased his hand into the slide holster in the back waistband of his jeans.

      She snatched the purse from beneath her arm and practically ripped the bag open. “Look, I know Lissa was probably a one-night stand, but you have to remember her.”

      Julia pulled out a photo of an attractive brunette and practically stuck it in his face. Russ glanced at it, just a glance, and he turned his attention back to that damn shadow.

      Was it Milo?

      Or had one of the working girls grown a conscience and called the cops?

      Those were the best-case scenarios. But Russ had a feeling this wasn’t a best-case scenario kind of moment. He took out his gun and kept it behind his back.

      “Well?” Julia demanded. If she noticed the gun, she didn’t have a reaction—which meant she almost certainly hadn’t seen it. “Do you remember Lissa?”

      That was an easy answer. “No. Why should I?”

      She made a sound, not of anger but outrage, and grabbed another photo from her purse. Russ glanced at it, too, and saw the baby. A newborn, swaddled in a pink blanket.

      He froze.

      Oh, this was suddenly getting a lot clearer. Or was it? Was this hot brunette really a black-market baby seller? If so, she certainly didn’t look the part.

      “Did Milo send you?” he snarled. “Is this the kid the seller’s offering? Because it’s not supposed to be a girl.”

      Julia went still again. Very still. And Russ risked looking at her so he could see what was going on in her eyes.

      “Seller?” she repeated. There was a lot of emotion in that one word. Confusion, fear and a boatload of concern. “No. The newborn in the picture is Lissa’s.”

      “I don’t understand.” Was she trying to sell her own cousin’s kid?

      “Well, you should understand, because you’re the baby’s father.”

      What?! It felt as if someone had slugged him in the gut. “Father?” Russ managed to say, though it didn’t have any sound to it.

       Ah, hell.

      Russ’s stomach dropped to the cracked dirty concrete, but that was the only reaction he managed. There certainly wasn’t time to question Julia about what she’d just said about him being a father.

      The movement at the back of the alley grabbed his full attention. Because the shadow moved.

      So did Russ.

      He shoved the photos back into her purse and gave Julia the keychain with the pepper spray. She might need it. He hooked his left arm around her, pushing her behind him.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked. Julia looked around, and no doubt saw the figure dressed in dark clothes and wearing a ski mask.

      Russ took aim.

      But it was too late.

      Another man stepped into the alley from the front sidewalk. He lifted his gun. So did the ski mask wearing man.

      They were trapped.

Chapter Two

      Julia clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to choke back a scream. What was happening?

      “Lower your gun,” the man at the front of the alley warned Russell. “Keep your hands where I can see them and don’t make any sudden moves.”

      The man giving the orders was tall and lanky and wore jeans and a scruffy t-shirt—unlike his comrade at the other end of the alley who wasn’t wearing a ski mask. And that frightened Julia even more, because it meant Russell and she could identify him.

      And that meant the man might kill them for that reason alone.

      Of

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