Page 126 of One Last Promise

And all she could see was Rigger hitting Pearl.

Tillie looked up at the house’s windows, scanning them, and then the porch below, and then . . . in the fading darkness, a light went on in one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of a little girl standing in the window, staring out into the early evening dusk.

Tillie could make out her daughter’s frame anywhere.

I’m here, honey. I’m coming for you.

A black SUV drove by, probably someone’s protection detail, and she realized she’d been sitting too long. So she motored around the corner, then down the street, across the canal, studying the house from as many angles as she could see.

“Remember your training.”

A half hour until nightfall.

And then she was getting her daughter back.

CHAPTER 13

Of course Moose was too late.

“Three delays. Are you serious?” He threw his bag into the back of the SUV alongside Axel’s, Shep’s, and London’s and then opened the front door.

“Hey, Moose.” The voice came from a tanned and grinning Colt Kingston, who had driven down from his houseboat two hours north in some harbor near Space Force.

Apparently, Colt was part of a top-secret project but could sneak away to help a hometown boy with some reconnaissance and maybe rescue.

Or maybe there’d be no need for recon, because according to a text he’d gotten from Flynn, Tillie had made bail four hours ago and vanished. So there was that.

Apparently, she’d meant her words. . . . “This is goodbye.”

Axel climbed in the back, London and Shep taking the bucket seats in back. London seemed quiet, looking out the window. .

“Have I mentioned how much I miss Alaska?” He pulled a ball cap from the backpack at his feet and shoved it onto his head, donned sunglasses. He wasalready sweating.

Colt pulled away from traffic and merged into the slow-moving flow of cars leaving the Miami International Airport. Already, the sun hung on the backside of the day, casting long shadows between the shiny high-rises. Palm trees sprouted from concrete, adding a surreal,Miami Vicefeel to the world.

“So, where to?” Colt asked.

“She’s in the wind,” Moose said, looking out the window. “But Flynn tracked down Rigger’s home address. It’s about an hour north of here, in Fort Lauderdale.”

“Great. I’ll get on 95.” Colt wore a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a Hawaiian-print button shirt, a cap over his dark hair, a real surfer vibe radiating off him. “Hungry?”

“Starved,” Axel said, leaning forward. “We had to practically run through Sea-Tac, and when we got to Chicago, everything was closed. If it weren’t for the snacks Shep and London bought, I’d be eating my flip-flops.”

“That’s just gross,” London said.

“We caught all the thunderstorms heading east,” Moose said. “We had to sleep in the terminal in O’Hare.”

“Fun,” Colt said. “There’s a great Cuban place on the Hollywood strip if you want to stop.”

Fact was, the last thing Moose wanted was a Cuban sandwich, but by the time they’d travelled north and cut over to the oceanside, his stomach growled, and he could admit that sustenance might make him less grumpy.

Less wanting to hurt someone.

Vengeance wasn’t his, but just a little justice?Please?

They piled out of the SUV at the Cuban food truck in a parking lot that overlooked white sandy beaches and rolling surf and swilled the smell of salt and spicy pork into the air.

Colt went over to the truck to order, and Moose sat at a nearby picnic table, folded his hands, his gazetoward the ocean.

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