Page 15 of Forgotten Girls

She headed back to the SUV as Bear came bounding back, tail wagging. He had cobwebs and twigs stuck in his coat. “What have you been doing?” She bent to wipe his head clean.

“On his downtime, he likes to explore new areas.” Styles opened the back door and waved Bear inside. “I figure he searches for some poor creature he can protect.”

Beth smiled and climbed into the passenger seat. “As long as it’s not a chicken, right?”

“No, his fear of chickens is absolute.” Styles started the engine. “He busted a feather pillow once and it was like Armageddon. I honestly believed he’d have a heart attack. He wouldn’t stop shaking. I ended up calling Nate to give him a sedative.”

Taken aback, Beth stared at him. “Nate’s not a vet. He’s a mighty fine doctor.”

“It might say dr. nate nace on his shingle, but when the chips are down, and an animal is in trouble, many townsfolk call Nate. He has completed a course or whatever to handle sick animals.”

Chuckling, Beth stared out the window at the multicolored scenery. After a long white winter, everything looked fresh and clean and so green. She recalled a time when Nate had given her a drug to take down a dangerous criminal. “He’s a man of many talents.”

Nate was a man she could trust, but the person she trusted the most, apart from Styles, was Dr. Shane Wolfe. She recognized something in him akin to herself. Not the psychopath side but the part of him that would die before giving up a secret, and she guessed he held many people’s lives in his hands. If ever she told anyone about her dark side, it would be him. Maybe he could help her? She swallowed hard. The images on the thumb drive rose up like hot lava in her brain. Her fingers closed into fists and anger trembled through her. While predators roamed the earth and she still drew breath, she’d make them pay.

SIXTEEN

Louan

The wind whined and buffeted the motel as Beth worked late into the night, uploading countless videos and images to a special encrypted file on the FBI server. Cold crept into the room. Even with the heat turned up as high as it would go, a chill crept across the floor from under the door and through the cracks on each side of the windows. Although exhausted, she’d consumed so many cups of coffee that she couldn’t sleep and decided to follow a couple of leads she discovered on Shoebridge’s hard drive. It always made her smile when people believed that when they deleted information from their computer that it vanished into thin air. What they didn’t know is someone like her could usually find threads of data in places they would never think of looking. Little clues to where the person had been were all she needed to do a full-scale search of certain areas of the dark web.

She almost missed a clue as she went through strings of data and then it popped out at her, like a beacon for a lost ship on a dark night at sea. She’d found a highly disguised password and punched the air in excitement. Whoever had manipulated the data surrounding this syndicate showed a cunningness close to her own. She ran the password again and waited for the data stream to fill the page. She copied the page and saved it to a thumb drive. She had gained a very small piece of information so far, but with the password she’d be able to follow communications between Shoebridge and whoever was pulling his strings. She cleaned up all traces of her hack and closed the laptop.

Suddenly exhausted, she staggered into the shower. The hot water poured over her and by the time she’d dried her hair, exhaustion had claimed her. She didn’t care that the bed smelled damp or the blankets were rough. She crawled into the freezing bed and had fallen asleep in seconds. Sure only minutes had passed since she’d closed her eyes, she woke to a noise. The smell of stale sweat crawled up her nostrils. Someone was in her room. Lying very still, she listened and heard a sharp intake of breath. Opening her eyes a slit as a shadow passed across the window, she tensed her muscles ready to fight. The next second, an almighty crash came from next door. From the noise, Styles had woken to the sound of a visitor as well.

Instead of sitting up in bed as most people would do, Beth rolled away from the sound and dropped on the floor beside the bed, crouching ready to attack. She would need all her wits to take down this intruder. Instinctively her hand went for her Glock, but her weapon was in her shoulder holster hanging on the back of the chair in front of the table. It was only two or three paces away from her but it might as well have been a mile. Crashing and the sounds of furniture breaking came from the next room. It didn’t take a genius to know that Styles was fighting for his life. The next second a dark shadow lunged toward her and a fist landed hard against her shoulder. She rolled away, aiming a kick at the man’s legs, missing and hitting air. On her back on the floor, she aimed again and this time struck him hard on the hip. He staggered away from her cursing and she saw the glint of metal in the moonlight coming through the drapes.

“I’m going to cut you real bad.” He waved the knife around trying to slash at her.

Glad she’d chosen to sleep in black sweats, and was able to blend into the shadows, Beth rolled away, getting behind him. Her head hit the leg of the chair in front of the desk and she reached up and grabbed her Glock from the shoulder holster. She backed toward the door and fumbled for the light switch. The room flooded with light and the intruder lunged at her, swinging the knife. “FBI, drop your weapon.” She raised the gun and racked the slide.

The man kept coming, Beth lunged sideways to avoid the slashing blade and cold poured over her arm as the fabric split open. Fully awake, anger trembled through her, heightening her senses. She rolled across the floor, avoiding the blade, and lifted her gun. Aiming center mass, she fired a double tap. The intruder’s startled expression as he grabbed his chest and staggered back surprised her. Hadn’t he seen her gun? The noise next door sounded like a herd of rampaging elephants as she jumped to her feet. She needed to help Styles and kicked the knife away from the intruder’s open hand as the life left his body.

Beth stepped over him and ran to Styles’ room as a man crashed through the window, landing at her feet. His head hit the ground and his neck twisted in an unnatural angle. He wasn’t moving and the fight was still raging in Styles’ room. Two down.

Adrenaline pumped through Beth’s veins as she moved to the door and, keeping her back to the wall, snaked a hand around the doorframe and switched on the light. Rolling through broken furniture, Styles, from what she could make out, was giving plenty, but these men were trained assassins, not drunken miners. From the blows and kicks, the three men were skilled in martial arts. Heart thumping and fingers tingling with anticipation, she stepped inside the room, Glock raised in both hands. “FBI, get on your knees, hands on your heads, or I’ll shoot.”

Everyone ignored her and the melee was a tangle of bodies. She couldn’t fire for risk of killing Styles. She ran up behind one of the men and swiped her gun across his head, hitting him in the ear. The man howled and turned to face her, his eyes wild. She backed away, holding her Glock in both hands. She wouldn’t miss at this range. “FBI. Move one step closer and I’ll shoot.”

“You just couldn’t leave well alone, could you?” The man staggered but pulled a knife. “The penalty for interfering in our business is death.”

The man lunged at her, and without hesitation she squeezed the trigger. The bullet passed through his neck and thumped into the wall. Arterial spatter sprayed the room. The man grabbed at his throat and staggered around before collapsing. The room had suddenly gone quiet. She looked up and took in the impossible situation at a glance. Styles was bent over a man, his muscles bulging as he held him in a headlock. One twist and he’d break his neck. A second man stood behind them holding a long sharp blade to Styles’ throat. That man smiled at her, and a low chuckle rolled from his mouth. By underestimating her, he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. Beth allowed her psychopath calm to rise up and her finger dropped to the trigger.

Her gaze slipped to Styles and he mouthed the words. “Do it.”

Staring into the grinning man’s face, Beth took careful aim. “Put down the knife.”

“You won’t risk killing your partner.” The man holding the knife chuckled. “Drop the gun like a good little girl, or I’ll give him a permanent smile.”

She pulled the trigger.

SEVENTEEN

TUESDAY

Head filled with cotton and mouth so dry her tongue stuck to the roof, Shiloh blinked into the darkness. Disoriented, she shook her head trying to remember what had happened but had no memory of anything after climbing into the truck with the cop. The sudden realization that her mom was hurt and in the hospital frightened her. Fear crawled up her spine. What if Mom had died? What would happen to her? At the thought of losing her mom, tears stung her eyes and fell down her cheeks. She tried to search for a memory of what happened and could only recall drinking the soda the cop had given her. How did she get here and where was she? A tiny light glowed on a table that held a bottle of water, but darkness closed in around her.

A sob escaped her lips as she pushed one hand over the sheet beneath her. The bed was huge and seemed to stretch out around her. It held a musty smell that reminded her of old socks left in the bottom of her laundry hamper. She ran a hand over the silky material covering her. She didn’t recall getting undressed or wearing anything so thin when ice was still on the ground, although the air inside the room was warm. She tried to sit up and her head swam, the room moved in and out of focus. Gritting her teeth, she crawled to the edge of the bed. Every muscle in her body ached. Her back hurt bad, but she needed to reach the water. Had she fallen and banged her head?

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