Against All Odds Read online

  It would take some time. The knot looked complicated and majorly tight. It would take a while.

  But she had nothing other than time.

  Overwhelm

  Nick pulled into the parking spot. It took three tries to get his Mustang in straight. He probably shouldn’t have had that last beer. Or at least not gotten into the car after downing it.

  It wasn’t like it had helped him to forget the fact that nobody knew where Ava was. His firstborn was missing, potentially with a killer. It would take being knocked unconscious to forget this living nightmare.

  He wanted to strangle someone in their little town. Why didn’t that school have security cameras? Nick would make sure that changed. He’d take it straight to the mayor if he had to.

  All they had were drawings from the sketch artist. Unless someone at school had snapped a picture. Kids these days were so obsessed with their phones, surely one of them had gotten a photo of the guy.

  But they had been scared for their lives. When going through the building, he saw at least a dozen abandoned cell phones strewn about. For kids to leave them, they had to have been terrified.

  Nick turned off the car and double-checked Foster’s apartment number. At least they would be able to talk openly about the case. They were away from the station.

  Maybe she knew something important. That could be why she called him. Or had he called her?

  He really shouldn’t have had that last beer.

  Too late for that now. Nick climbed out of the car, stumbled back, then set the alarm. He glanced around. The other cars were nice enough. Nobody would probably mess with his prize possession.

  He shoved more breath mints into his mouth and meandered toward the building. Hopefully the coffee and energy drink he’d downed after talking to Foster would kick in soon to give him some clarity of mind. So far, they’d only given him the jitters.

  After Nick found her apartment, he leaned against the door and took a deep breath. He needed to pull himself together if he didn’t want Foster to think he’d gotten drunk.

  He’d spent too much time trying to impress her to blow it now. But if something horrible happened to his daughter, would he even be capable of having a relationship after that? His throat closed up at the thought. Or maybe he’d need one more than ever. There was really only so much he could do on his own.

  He’d really made a name for himself. Some of the guys at the station called him the Lone Ranger because he’d gone so long without a relationship after his marriage fell apart. They were right, though. He should’ve moved on a long time ago.

  And now he was. Foster was gorgeous. The blue uniform that muted everyone else couldn’t hide her good looks—not even that could suppress her beauty and feminine curves.

  Nick’s pulse raced at the thought. He stepped away from the wall and knocked, careful not to be too loud since Tinsley had to be sleeping at this hour.

  Only about half a beat passed before the lock clicked and the door opened. Foster stood there with her hair down, flowing halfway to her waist. She wore a pale yellow sleeveless dress that was just short enough to quicken his heart rate.

  She stepped back. “Come on in. Brr. It’s chilly out here.”

  Nick went inside, careful to keep his steps steady, and hung his jacket on a coatrack. It slid off the hook, but he caught it and shoved it so that it stayed while she had her back to him, locking the door.

  She turned around and gave him a sad smile. “How are you holding up?”

  “It’s rough.”

  Foster nodded and walked down the hall. He followed her as they passed the kitchen and came to the living room. She gestured for him to sit on the couch. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

  Nick shook his head. If he had anything else to drink, he’d have to get up to pee every five minutes. “Maybe something to eat?”

  “I made you enchiladas. Or is that too heavy? I can get you a light snack, if you’d rather.”

  She was like an angel. Nick hadn’t had someone make him a homemade meal in months, and that was only because he’d been at his parents’ house. “Whatever’s easiest.”

  “It’s all easy.” She smiled sweetly.

  Nick’s breath caught. “Uh, enchiladas sound great.”

  “Sure. Give me a few minutes. Have a seat.” She waved toward the couch. “You can change the channel if you want.”

  He stumbled over to the couch, plopped down, then glanced at the screen. The Hallmark Channel. Everyone has their poison. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flipped through the channels, stopping at an action flick. Two guys in a fistfight. Much better.

  Just as the fistfight resolved itself, the delicious aromas of the meal wafted his way. Nick’s mouth watered.

  Foster strolled over, carrying two steaming plates, though one had less food on it. Her dress moved up ever so slightly with each step. Nick pulled his gaze away from her tan legs to her face. She smiled at him with her full lips.

  Not helping.

  He licked his lower lip and took a deep breath. “Those smell delicious.”

  Foster’s expression lit up and she set them on the coffee table. “I hope you like them. It’s an authentic recipe from a friend who spent a year in Mexico.”

  Nick tried not to stare as she bent over. He wasn’t very successful. “Um, I’m sure they’re great.”

  She stood up straight. “Let me grab something to drink. Dig in.”

  He just nodded, entranced by the perfect shape of her mouth. And of the rest of her.

  Coming over was either the best decision or the worst. Only time would tell which was true.

  She spun around and bounced toward the kitchen. The dress again rose and lowered with each step.

  Once she disappeared from sight, Nick turned to the food. All of a sudden, he realized just how hungry he actually was. He inhaled one full enchilada before Foster returned, carrying two pop cans with writing in Spanish.

  “I like to drink authentic Mexican soda with these.”

  “Where do you get those?”

  “There’s a little shop not far away. They have all kinds of authentic ingredients.”

  “You’re amazing. I mean, this meal is incredible.”

  Foster beamed, handed him a can, then sat next to him. She smelled like a tropical island. “Thanks. How do you like it?”

  He struggled to find his voice. “It’s better than any restaurant I’ve ever been to.”

  “You can have as much as you want. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Nick nodded and turned back to his plate. Tingles ran through his body. He could barely think straight with her next to him. Or was that because of the beers he’d consumed before coming over?

  It didn’t matter. He needed to get his mind on the food and off how much he wanted to kiss her until he forgot his problems completely.

  Connection

  Genevieve struggled to eat her meal. It was hard enough to breathe with him sitting so close. He was wearing one of his V-neck tees. This one seemed to cling to him more than the others.

  It was hard not to stare. Not to let her mind take it off.

  Stop! He was grieving and stressed out. His daughter was missing. Not only that, but they had both been through one of the worst work days possible.

  It had definitely been her worst day on the job. Nick had been on the force a lot longer than her—probably since she was a preteen or young teen. That thought made her heart race even faster. He was so much older and more experienced with the world. That combined with the way he looked at her… it all made eating nearly impossible.

  “You mind watching this?” Nick asked.

  “It’s fine.” She hadn’t even noticed the TV. Buildings exploded on the screen. After seeing part of the school blow up earlier, it made her flinch.

  “Yeah, probably not the best choice for today.” He balanced the plate on his lap and turned the channel until he came to an old episode of Supernatural. “This better?�
�

  “Sure. I love this show.”

  Nick turned and met her gaze. “You do?”

  She swallowed, getting lost in his light brown eyes. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Mine, too.”

  Time seemed to stand still as their gazes remained locked. She studied the dark flecks in his irises, her skin warming with each moment that passed. She wanted to lean over and press her lips on his.

  Something inside her screamed that he was her boss.

  But she didn’t care. She would throw it all away just to taste that mouth. She leaned forward.

  Nick pulled back and turned toward the TV.

  Genevieve closed her eyes. Her pulse drummed in her ears. She shook so hard she had to put her plate on the coffee table.

  What had she almost just done? No wonder Nick had pulled away. They couldn’t kiss. She wasn’t just risking her job, but his. Not only that, but he was distraught and had clearly had some drinks before coming over. This was not the time.

  She drew in several deep breaths until she stopped shaking.

  On screen, a piano fell on Dean.

  Nick burst out laughing. “This is my favorite episode! How many times can they kill him?”

  His laughter made Genevieve feel better, and relaxation washed through her. She smiled. “This is one of the funnier ones.”

  Nick put his plate next to hers, and they laughed their way through the rest of the episode.

  Once it ended, he turned to her, his eyes full of sadness. “I really needed to laugh.”

  She put her hand on his, then froze when she realized the gesture.

  He didn’t indicate that he was put off by it.

  “Do you want me to find more episodes? We can watch the funny ones all night if you want.”

  The sadness in his expression deepened. “It wouldn’t be right to laugh all night while Ava’s out there, missing, would it?”

  Genevieve frowned. “I don’t know.”

  He leaned against the couch and raked his fingers through his hair. “I feel guilty for enjoying myself, but if I don’t laugh, I think I’ll fall apart.”

  She nodded, feeling his crushing pain. “You have to take care of yourself. It’s the only way you can help to find her.”

  “You’re right.” He lifted his hand that rested under hers and threaded his fingers through hers.

  Her heart pounded, threatening to explode through her chest.

  Nick took her other hand and traced shapes on her palm. “I like being around you. I can let my defenses down and just be myself. There’s no need to pretend to be anything I’m not.”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came.

  He leaned forward and pressed his mouth on hers. His lips were rough, like they were chapped, but it was like Heaven. Her insides exploded with joy, and immediately, he deepened the kiss. Their tongues danced and explored.

  It was even better than she’d imagined.

  His grip on her hands loosened, and she ran her palms up his arms. He flexed, showing her just how good of shape he was in. Her heart nearly exploded. Their kiss intensified as she continued exploring his arms, then his equally solid chest and abs.

  Nick’s hands moved to her waist, then to the small of her back. He pulled her closer, pulling her onto his lap and pressing her against him. His hands made their way up to her dress’s zipper. He slid it down a few inches.

  Then he pulled back.

  Genevieve’s eyes flew open. “What’s wrong?”

  “Is this okay?” He sounded breathless.

  “It’s more than okay.”

  Nick’s expression intensified. “Is it?”

  She nodded. “I won’t tell anyone. Nobody else will ever know. I swear.”

  He leaned forward, like he was going to kiss her again, but then stopped. “I need you. Like I’ve never needed anything in all my life.”

  Genevieve put her palms on his face and pressed her mouth on his. He deepened the kiss and moved his hands back to her zipper.

  Relief

  Alex paced the waiting room in the police station. At least it was better than being in one of the holding rooms.

  Detective Anderson appeared. “Come on back, Alex.”

  “Where’s Nick?”

  Anderson rubbed his eyes. “At home, sleeping.”

  Alex followed him to his cubicle, his mind racing. “What can you tell me about Zoey’s shirt? Is it her blood?”

  “Sit.” The detective gestured toward the seat, then sat on the other side of the desk.

  Alex sat. “What do you know?”

  “First of all, DNA evidence takes longer than an hour. The shirt probably hasn’t even reached Seattle yet, where it has to be processed.”

  “You guys still don’t have a lab here? Even with all the crap that goes wrong around here?”

  “Talk to your buddy. He’s the captain.”

  Alex scowled. “Why would Zoey’s shirt be lying on the sidewalk? Why?”

  “Take a deep breath.”

  Alex leaned forward. “How would you feel if this was your fiancée?”

  “It’s too soon to know anything, Alex. But I can tell you one thing that will put your mind at ease.”

  “What?”

  “Looking at the shirt, I can tell you it’s not her blood.”

  It took Alex a moment to find his voice. “What? How do you know that?”

  “I know enough about blood spatter to tell you that based on the direction of the spray, it came from someone else. She was near someone who bled onto her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Anderson nodded. “And if you need more convincing, the blood was on the outside of the shirt.”

  Alex crumpled against the chair. “So, she’s not bleeding?”

  “Not when she had the shirt on, anyway.”

  His mind raced as he tried to piece everything together. “But that still doesn’t tell me why her shirt would be there, bloody or not. I can’t imagine her just throwing it there.”

  “That’s where we’re going to need you to be patient. It’s going to take time to process everything.”

  Patience, right.

  Alex sat up straight and stared at the detective. “How did the shooter get away?”

  Anderson frowned. “He fled the scene before anyone arrived.”

  “How is that possible? That never happens on the news stories.”

  “It does. Believe me, it does.”

  Alex would just have to take his word. His mind was swimming too furiously for him to think about other school shootings. At least it sounded like Zoey was alive.

  That was all that mattered. Well, that and Ava being okay. They were both missing.

  “Any other questions?” Anderson asked.

  Alex groaned. There were at least a million questions racing through his mind. “Do you guys know who the shooter is yet?”

  “It’s going to take time.”

  “There are two lives on the line!” Alex slapped his hands on the sides of the chair.

  Anderson glared at him. “We know that. Our captain’s daughter is one of them! I’ve worked with Captain Fleshman since you were a smart-mouthed little brat when your sister was missing. He’s more of a brother to me than my own brother. I’m going to put everything I have into this case, and lucky for you, that includes working to find your fiancée. Why don’t you head home and get some sleep, Alex? Let us do our job. I’m sure as hell not getting any sleep tonight.”

  Alex just stared at the other man who would one day be his superior. He was rarely at a loss for words. Alex nodded and rose from his chair.

  His mind reeled from being chewed out, but he probably had it coming. He had a lot to learn about being a cop, and if he wanted any respect when he joined the force, he needed to get his act together now. Most of the people there had seen him at his worst, either when his sister or his daughter had been kidnapped.

  Now his fiancée, the one and only love of his life, had potentially been
abducted, too. What were the chances? Was there something about him that made it dangerous for others to be around?

  The chances of that many people he cared about disappearing had to be astronomically low. Just about as close to impossible as it came.

  He slammed his car door shut but didn’t start the engine. Macy had disappeared right after he’d started smoking and making out with her best friend. Ariana had disappeared when Alex’s life was at its lowest.

  Had he done something wrong to make Zoey get taken? He’d been trying to do everything right. He was working hard on his blog to find missing kids—and with his help, more than a dozen lost kids had been brought home safely. He was also doing everything in his power to be the best dad and fiancé he could be.

  Alex wasn’t smoking or drinking. He wasn’t running with the wrong crowd. Heck, he went to bed at a reasonable hour most nights and even kept his apartment mostly clean so that Zoey and Ariana would actually want to come over.

  He racked his mind, trying to think of anything he’d done to make this happen, to piss off some invisible force that made Alex pay for his wrongs in the worst way imaginable.

  Nothing. This lifelong screw-up had turned his life around. He was doing good for others and improving the world around him.

  Maybe that was part of the problem. Perhaps it was time for some vigilante justice.

  Struggle

  Zoey fought against the ropes. They burned and had dug into her skin to the point of cutting into it. She didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting out. Even if it meant running through a neighborhood, cold in only a camisole and ripped pants.

  Her captor might think that would be enough to keep her inside, but that was where he was wrong. Dead wrong. She would do whatever it would take to get out of here and back to her family.

  Beads of sweat broke out onto her face and dripped down into her eyes. There was nothing she could do but ignore it. It stung, but she didn’t care.

  She grunted and groaned, fighting against the ropes all the more. One of them might come loose. She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.