Page 138 of Beat of Love
“Never heard of her,” came Hannigan’s curt response.
The sheriff grunted. “Why am I not surprised.”
“What is going on, Lawson? Who is this Robertson woman?” barked Hannigan. “I presume you know, seeing as your ass is in Nebraska instead of safely tucked away in Texas on your family’s ranch.”
Rafferty scrubbed his hand down his face and picked his words carefully, not wanting to give the sheriff any indication that Connor was not his son.“Sarah Robertson was a woman I met during my early Taisechs days. The one who set off the chain of events that eventually led me to Brazil,” he said, voice rough.
Damn Hannigan and his telling pauses. “Shit.”
One word. Laced with a world of meaning.
“I’m here to take custody of her son. My son,” he added quietly.
Another beat.
Then Hannigan said what Rafferty already knew. “Car— The subject is drawing you out.”
“That’s my thinking too,” Rafferty admitted.
A red Maserati. That outfit. Caught on camera, broad daylight.
Kamila didn’t make rookie mistakes.
No, every move she made was deliberate.
Strategic.
And that creepy, skin-prickling feeling from earlier?
Her.
Watching. Waiting. Biding her time.
And she knew he was here.
Sheriff Stirling slapped both palms on the table and surged to his feet. “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”
Hannigan sighed, long and heavy. “Lawson, fill the sheriff in. Gather as much intel as you can. I’ll muster a team. Get to Nebraska myself. We’ve got a very dangerous woman to apprehend.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Lawson?”
“Sir?”
“Watch your six.”
The call disconnected, leaving Rafferty staring into the sheriff’s thunderous expression.
“Is Connor in danger?” Stirling demanded.
Rafferty’s blood turned to ice.
Fuck.
In the chaos, he’d lost sight of the one person who mattered most.
“Yes.” He shot to his feet. “She’ll use the boy to draw me out.”
