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shoulder, then faced Mila. “Dr. Manchester, do what they tell you or you’ll never see your daughter again.”

      They? What was he talking about?

      Mila opened her mouth to plead with them, but a loud noise in the back of the clinic made her jump. She clutched her phone with clammy fingers and spun around as the door to the break room opened.

      A man wearing all black stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand. “Get rid of the other people in the clinic and do it quietly.”

      She glanced at her screen again to see if Izzy was okay, but the call had ended. Panic shot through her. Battling the terror gripping her, she crossed her arms and struggled for calm. “You...have my daughter? Why?”

      The man in black shrugged, thick brows puckering as he approached. “Do what we tell you and she won’t get hurt.”

      Fear choked Mila. “What do you want?”

      “You’re going to give our leader a new face. Then we let your family go.” He jerked her by the arm and shoved her toward the door. “Now, clear the clinic. The boss wants this done quickly and quietly.”

      “Who is your boss?”

      “No names, Doc. It’s better that way.”

      Mila sucked in a breath. “How do I know you’ll keep your word and won’t hurt Izzy?”

      The man’s cold eyes met hers. “You’ll just have to trust us.”

      She didn’t trust them at all.

      He gestured toward the door, the gun aimed at her chest.

      What else could she do? They had her daughter. She had no doubt they would hurt her if she didn’t cooperate.

      She stepped into the hallway and spotted one of her nurses frowning from the nurses’ desk. She must have heard the noise.

      “Unless you want her and your other staff to die, you’d better be quiet,” the man growled behind her.

      Mila nodded and stepped forward to get rid of her staff and the patients in the waiting room.

      * * *

      BRAYDEN HAWK WAS done with women. Especially with fix-ups.

      His partner at the law firm, Conrad Barker, had told him Penny Lark was gorgeous. And she had been.

      But he’d failed to point out that she had a hole in her head where her brain was supposed to be. That all she cared about was her beauty regime and money and being the focal point on the society page.

      Of course, Conrad didn’t care. He didn’t date women for their brains or because he wanted a future with them. He simply wanted sex.

      Tension eased from Brayden as he drove onto Hawk’s Landing, the family ranch. The wind whistled through the windows of his SUV, trees swaying slightly in the late fall breeze.

      At one time he’d been like Conrad. Not that he wanted a woman for her money, but he hadn’t wanted a relationship either.

      The last few months with his family had changed everything.

      For nearly two decades, the ranch had been a sad, lonely reminder of his missing little sister, Chrissy. And also of the fact that his father had deserted them shortly after her disappearance.

      Thankfully, Chrissy’s murder had finally been solved and the family had closure.

      Shortly after, his oldest brother, Harrison, the sheriff of Tumbleweed, had married Honey Granger.

      And a few weeks ago, the next to the oldest brother, Lucas, an FBI agent, had married Charlotte Reacher, a victim in a shooting by a human trafficking ring Lucas was investigating.

      On the heels of adding two wives to the family, his mother had opened the ranch to four foster girls, Charlotte’s art students, who’d needed a home after Lucas had rescued them from the trafficking ring, an operation known as Shetland.

      Unfortunately, the ringleader of the operation had escaped and was in the wind.

      And now Honey was pregnant, due in just a few weeks, and the house was alive again with family, with talk of babies and the next generation of Hawks.

      Odd how that conversation had sparked thoughts of settling down himself.

      Brayden shook off the thought, climbed from the SUV, smiling at the sound of the horses galloping on the hill. Since the girls had moved in, they’d added more livestock, and he’d hired his friend Beau Fortner as foreman of the ranch operation.

      His mother swept him into a hug as he entered the foyer. “So glad you made it to dinner, Brayden.”

      “I wouldn’t miss it, Mom.” The weekly family get-togethers had meant a lot to his mother during the lean years.

      Truth be told, it had meant a lot to him, too. He’d harbored guilt over his sister’s disappearance and had needed his family around him.

      Charlotte and Honey and the girls were laying out a spread of food that would feed half of Texas while Lucas, Harrison and brother number three, Dexter, stood by the sideboard sipping scotch. Dexter handed him a highball glass, and Brayden inhaled the rich aroma before taking a sip.

      “Thanks, I needed this.”

      “Bad day in court?” Lucas asked.

      Brayden shrugged. He would have rather been in court than on that damn date. Thank God it had only been lunch.

      His mother called them to the table, and they gathered for the blessing, then the meal. Excited talk of the nursery Honey was putting together for baby Hawk floated between the women while Dexter filled them in on the new horses he’d bought.

      Lucas’s phone buzzed with a text, earning a chiding look from his mother. She respected all their jobs but insisted they leave their phones and business at the door.

      “Sorry, Mom,” Lucas murmured. “It’s about the Shetland operation.”

      The room grew quiet. Strained.

      Lucas stood and walked to the foyer away from the table. Harrison followed. Tension stretched into a pained silence as they waited to find out if the Shetland ring had struck again.

      * * *

      MILA SWALLOWED BACK the terror clawing at her as she approached the head nurse in the clinic.

      “Rhoda, will you please tell everyone to leave? I have to get home to Izzy. She’s sick.”

      Rhoda gave her a worried look. “Is she okay?”

      Mila fought a sob, then nodded. “She will be, but she needs her mommy. Just send the patients home and we’ll reschedule.” She squeezed Rhoda’s arm. “You go home, too. I’ll close up.”

      Rhoda was a single mother with a ten-year-old son at home, so she didn’t mind an opportunity to take off early.

      Mila felt the gunman’s eyes piercing her as she watched Rhoda quickly clear the waiting room, then shut down the computer at the nurses’ desk.

      “Anything else I can do?” Rhoda called from the front.

      “No, thanks for handling that. Have a good night with Trey.”

      Rhoda yelled good-night, then left through the front door.

      The gunman motioned for her to lock up, and Mila rushed forward, locked the doors and closed all the blinds. Noises sounded from the back, and she walked toward the exam rooms on shaky legs.

      “Why me? Why here?” Mila asked.

      The gunman jabbed the gun into her back. “We know you helped some of our girls escape.”

      A cold chill washed over Mila. Some of their girls?

      She had referred a few lost teens at the clinic to the women’s shelter. And then there was Izzy’s mother...

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