Finding Leigh: Dark Horse Inc. Book 3 Read online

  Finding Leigh

  Dark Horse Inc. Book 3

  Amy J. Hawthorn

  Words By Night Publishing

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  A Thank You

  About the Author

  Also by Amy J. Hawthorn

  Copyrights

  FINDING LEIGH, PUBLISHED MARCH 2017 BY AMY J. HAWTHORN, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED FINDING LEIGH Copyright © 2017 Amy J. Hawthorn Edited by Virginia Nelson Cover Art by Laideebug Digital

  Formatting by Words by Night Publishing

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. The author does acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The author does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for third- party Websites or their content.

  All rights reserved worldwide. This book is licensed for your personal use only. No part of this work may be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any format without express written permission from the author, except for brief quotations embodied in reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN: 978-0-9968801-5-2

  ISBN: 978-0-9968801-5-2

  For the Addies of the world…

  Chapter 1

  Addie’s thirteen-year-old heart beat against her breastbone so hard she felt it all the way to her ears. Palms sweating, she followed the creepy guy through the woods. Although she’d been on her own for a long time, living in what little was left of her family’s old house, she’d never dealt with anything this scary. She didn’t know what the bad guy would do if he heard her, but she knew it wouldn’t be good.

  There has to be some way I can help her!

  The pretty woman who always left food and stuff for Addie dangled limply over the bad guy’s shoulder. The setting sun cut through a break in the trees, glinting in brown hair so long it almost touched the ground. It waved back and forth against the back of his strong looking legs as he climbed the narrow path.

  She wished she had one of her grandfather’s old guns, but no, her good-for-nothing father sold them at the pawn shop the day after her grandpa died. She had the phone from the rich guy who always came with the pretty woman in her pocket. She’d been playing with it, learning how to use the camera and flashlight things. She hoped it would be of use now because she didn’t know what else to do. She just knew she had to do something.

  Addie thought she knew where he was going, but she didn’t want to make any noise by using the phone to call for help. Judging by all the gunfire she’d heard, there still might be trouble at her house.

  Her home.

  She knew it wasn’t much more than a shithole, but it was all she’d ever known. Now she wouldn’t be able to stay there ever again. It hadn’t been a true home since well before the police had come and taken her dad and his drug making stuff. She hadn’t even cared as she’d hid in the woods and watched them put him in the back of the police car. She thought maybe she should have felt bad for him or something, but all she could think about was a long time ago when the little house had been a happy place. From the day her grandpa had died from a heart attack, things had only grown more bleak. After her mom had gotten drunk and crashed her car into a tree, there hadn’t been anymore good memories.

  There’s nowhere for me to go. My people are all gone.

  The guy slowly stepped out into the clearing where her mom’s older cousin used to live. Her trailer had burned down not long after she died and no one had ever done anything with it. With his gun in one hand and the other arm around the lady’s legs, he walked to a shiny black car. He opened the passenger door and put her inside then quietly shut the door. Afterward, he got in the driver’s side and started the engine.

  A picture. She could take a picture of the license plate. Her shaky fingers fumbled over the buttons until she found the right one. She waited until the car turned around to pull out, then she snapped a picture. And then another, just to be sure she didn’t mess up.

  She blinked and the car was gone.

  As the leader of Dark Horse Inc. and former Army, Rick Evans wasn’t used to feeling helpless. But right then, his gut twisted with hollow panic he could neither control nor combat. He needed out of this ridiculous bed, needed to find a way to help Leigh, but instead they had him trapped in the damn emergency room.

  His instincts clamored, urging him to get up and move. Leigh’s hourglass was almost out of sand and her abductor, Marcus Sutton, was not the kind of bastard to twiddle his thumbs. He wanted Leigh for a reason that was anything but good.

  Rick’s own rules, the very base that he’d built Dark Horse Inc. on, mocked him. From day one, he and Trent Dawson—his closest friend and right-hand man—agreed that they would never take a mission if it posed a risk to anyone on their team. Years ago, when they’d served in Afghanistan, they’d lost one of their team. The pain had blindsided them.

  When Rick had called in a few of their friends to help protect Trent’s woman, his friend had urged him to make Dark Horse Inc. official. Over time Rick had, but they’d always agreed that their team’s safety came first. That meant no matter how badly they wanted otherwise they never acted without proper intel, surveillance, and planning.

  Trent would lock Rick down and start on all those very things they’d sworn to live by.

  Deep down to the very center of his soul, Rick knew that would be a mistake.

  He glared at the tray on the wheeled cart beside his bed. Covered with a crumpled paper drape, it held a mountain of bloodied gauze, antiseptic, and suture needles. The syringe containing lidocaine was still over halfway full. He’d refused more, afraid the medicine might affect his ability to move fast or think coherently. The doctor’s stubborn insistence and his own impatience was the only reason he’d consented to even a small dose.

  As it was, his anger burned so blistering hot, it was a wonder the ER physician had stayed in the room long enough to tend his wound. Rick had to give the doctor a huge measure of respect. The man’s hand had been steady as he’d sewn a ticking time bomb back together.

  Leigh. Mother fucking Marcus Sutton has Leigh in his filthy hands.

  He looked up to the bags of fluid hanging on the pole beside him. The bag of blood had finally emptied and his second bag of saline was almost finished. Close enough. He undid the tape holding the IV in place then leaned over, stretching to reach the bedside tray. He pulled it closer and grabbed one of the two remaining mostly clean pieces of gauze. It was his blood, and he didn’t give one damn about anythi
ng beyond getting out and finding Leigh. Holding it over the IV catheter, he slid the IV out and applied pressure. He’d never been a big bleeder. He wouldn’t need more than a few seconds.

  While he waited for the bleeding to stop, he cautiously stood, testing his leg.

  Trent was going to be pissed and pissed good. But Rick couldn’t wait any longer, and he couldn’t draw his friends deeper into this madness. Having Leigh at the center of it brought him enough terror for ten lifetimes. He wouldn’t risk anyone else.

  The numbing medication was wearing off, so his leg throbbed like a bitch. He’d had plenty of injuries over the years. He and pain were well acquainted, and this injury might not be his worst, but it wasn’t a walk in the park.

  But none of that mattered.

  Confident his leg would hold his weight, he took one cautious step then another.

  He ditched the gauze on his arm and walked to the door. A glance into the hallway showed the ER was quiet. Certain no one watched, he clutched the ridiculous gown and hoped his ass stayed covered. He slipped out into the hall and made it almost to the ambulance bay before he ran into anyone. Wide, glass doors slid open as a security guard and nurse walked in. They carried a faint whiff of smoke in and that gave him the story he needed.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I gotta have a cigarette. I’ll be right back. Less than five minutes.”

  Long used to patients sneaking out for a smoke, the nurse pursed her lips in annoyance and the guard rolled his eyes. When they moved out of the way, he faked a smile. Since they’d been caught doing the same, they didn’t argue with him.

  Where did Trent park my ride? He looked around the front lot and found his SUV. Clutching the stupid gown, he hurried over. The rough sidewalk and then the asphalt were harsh on the soles of his feet, but he didn’t give a shit. He made it to the truck and keyed in the code on the door handle. The moment his ass hit the seat he lifted a cup holder insert and retrieved the spare key.

  In less than a minute, he drove onto the main road. Impatient, he stopped at a red light. Where was he going? What would he do? In a bad habit that Trent’s sweet Kate would scold him for, he reached for his phone. It lay in its usual spot, in the cubby beneath the dash. He blindly fumbled for it as he watched a long line of cars cruise through the intersection.

  He hit a button and glanced at the screen. His heart stopped.

  Hopeful, but scared he’d imagined it, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, that number was still there under his missed calls.

  Mary. Or Addie. Addison Jolene Potter. Thirteen years old. Pete, the young man who handled his computer searches, had found her birth certificate in the online county records. Her mother hadn’t given the girl her father’s last name. They’d had a hell of a time finding any info on her. He couldn’t imagine having a child and not making sure that they had everything they could hope for, including his name.

  Tom Caudill was a bastard of the highest order.

  She’d called him. After what felt like years of waiting, Addie had called. His hand shook. Not good. He checked traffic and, making sure the lane beside him was clear, he pulled off the street and into a gas station. He parked and took a deep breath.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence that she’d called him yesterday evening after everything went to shit.

  He took another deep breath and pushed play.

  A small voice spoke in a hushed, jittery jumble. “Uh. Hey. I hope this thing works. I saw him take her. That guy with the blond hair. He carried her over his shoulder like a sack. Um. I took a picture of his license plate.” She paused a moment and then her small shaky voice provided him a miracle as she recited the info.

  He listened to her message a second time, committing it to memory. He’d memorized the plate number on the first pass. The second time around, his focus was all about Addie. After expending so much energy and time searching for her, she was right there in his ear.

  Yet, like a ghost, he couldn’t grab hold and catch her.

  Afraid to hope and expecting the worst, he dialed her number. He held his breath and hoped with everything he had left that she’d answer. After the fifth ring, it went to a generic voicemail box. He exhaled and tried one more time. As badly as he wished differently, he wasn’t surprised to get the same result. His wandering little orphan was determined to stay lost.

  The only thing that kept him from crushing his cell in his hand was the very minute possibility that she might call again.

  He closed his eyes, did his best impersonation of a man whose world wasn’t crumbling around him, and backed out of his parking spot.

  He had to get back to his place, grab his computer, his gear, and lastly some fucking clothes. As badly as he wanted to rush in and find Leigh, he couldn’t do it without intel, and he couldn’t run in with his dick flapping in the breeze. He pulled back onto the road and hurried as fast as he could without getting pulled over.

  He figured Trent and the rest of the crew would be looking for him by now. If they found him, he wouldn’t be able to shake them loose. As much as he needed their valuable support, he couldn’t put them at risk for something he was responsible for.

  Demons always returned when you least expected them.

  He had a few things at the new house he’d just bought. It wasn’t much, but he’d make it work. He couldn’t chance getting caught at Trent’s, where he stored most of his gear. Even if he managed to get in and get out before the Dark Horse crew, Harlan wouldn’t hesitate to sit on his ass and hold him until Trent came home.

  Harlan Walker might be a couple of years past his prime, but the man was still a force to be reckoned with.

  Fortunately, he hadn’t told his team about his latest purchase yet. That might buy him a little more desperately needed time. Though, the reprieve would be a short one. He’d be in trouble once they set Pete on his tail. There wasn’t a damn thing the kid couldn’t find with a little time and a computer.

  He’d locked a little cash away in a safe, along with an extra pistol and ammunition. In another futile attempt to bring him back into the fold, his father had sent him a sample pack of his legacy’s finest wares. It was far from ideal, but it would do.

  The world around Leigh shook violently. Her head felt as though it might snap from her neck. Pain screamed through her brain and vicious light sparked behind her eyelids.

  “Hey there, gorgeous girl. Wake up.” That voice. Dear god, that voice. She’d only heard it a few times, but each experience had been followed by either electric pain or the nauseatingly sweet smell of chloroform. Repeatedly, she’d wakened only to be sent back to unconsciousness.

  Now he wanted her awake.

  Cruel fingers dug into her upper arms with bruising pain. On another jarring shake, her teeth snapped together. Wanting absolutely nothing to do with her current nasty reality she tried to fight her way back to oblivion. Her head lolled on her shoulders. She fought the urge to stand on her own feet.

  Her instincts screamed at her to flee, run. She needed to get as far away as fast as possible and stay there. But she couldn’t. Her ankles were bound and her wrists tied behind her back with a merciless lack of play in the ropes.

  With every ounce of will she had, she forced herself to stay limp with her eyes closed.

  He crooned in her ear. “Come on, precious. This will be so much more fun with you awake.” Bile rose in her throat, and she prayed she didn’t choke on her own vomit. Swallowing her revulsion, she struggled to remember what happened. She’d been out at Addie’s with Rick and someone else. There’d been trouble. Jumbled, random, blurry images came to life then faded into each other.

  Blood. There had been so much blood on her hands. Sheriff Hawkins shot Rick and he’d lost consciousness. Then the world had gone black. The blood was all her fault. She’d insisted they make a trip out to little old house to drop off groceries for the little girl.

  Joe. An image of her fierce older brother wavered in her mind. She reminded herself that Joe would l
eave no stone unturned. He was smart, determined, and stubborn enough for ten men. He and Cara were unharmed the last time she’d seen them and they would have taken care of Rick. No one was more competent than Joe.

  She’d always hated that about her brother, but she couldn’t be more thankful now.

  Rick. She knew they would have gotten him to a hospital. She had to believe that he was okay.

  Something wet and hot trailed up her neck. He bit her earlobe. Pain exploded, light bursting behind her eyelids.

  Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

  “I know you’re pretending.”

  Her breaths came in short shallow pants. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

  A man yelled in the distance. Something loud thundered against a door, startling her. She lost her focus and whimpered.

  “Ah. There you are. I knew you were awake. Let me see your eyes.” He spoke against the hollow of her throat making her cringe away from him. Only she had nowhere to retreat.

  “Yo, boss! We got a problem!” Someone yelled through the door.

  “Not now!” She flinched and turned her head away when he shouted. “Handle it without me or consider yourself a dead man.”

  “Boss, it’s Wen. He got himself into trouble. He doesn’t look good.”

  Her captor growled low and menacingly. “We’ll finish this later, princess. It’ll only be sweeter for the delay. I promise to make it worth your while.” He bit her ear again and dropped her, leaving her to crash onto the hard floor.

  Tears pricked her eyes as the door slammed shut. Gritty and cold concrete bit into her cheek. Her body throbbed in one screaming, twisting, knot of pain.

  Muffled voices trailed off as the men hurried away. “I think he got into the supply. I know you don’t want any attention here, but he really looks bad, boss. If it were anyone else we’d just toss him in the river but, well, it’s Wen.”