The Missing

hot breeze kicked up as they headed for the parking lot. They stopped at the crosswalk to wait for the green light, and the feel of that hot breeze blowing in his face teased a memory, and for a moment, time fell away. It hit him like that sometimes, memories sneaking up on him and hitting him with the intensity of a sucker punch.

    It was like yesterday, standing on an Alabama beach with his arms wrapped around Taige, her mouth sweet and warm under his lips, and her body, so soft and strong, pressed against his own.

    A little hand tugged on his, and the memory fell apart around him. Cullen looked down to find Jilly staring up at him with big green eyes. “The light changed, Daddy. We can cross now.”

    “Yeah. Yeah, it has.”

    EVEN as much as Taige despised Jones, she didn’t shut the door in his face when he woke her up early the next morning—way early. The sun was already shining, but it wasn’t even seven. Too damn early, considering how little she’d slept the night before. Her reflexes were off, so that might explain why she didn’t feel too inclined to knock that smug, smarmy smile off his face.

    Taylor Jones was just a little too perfect-looking. He had perfectly tanned skin, a perfectly blinding white smile, his hair perfectly cut and styled. She imagined he had a standing appointment at some pricey designer salon for men to keep his hair from growing even one eighth of an inch longer than he liked. His suits were a little more expensive than the typical FBI agent wore, as were his shoes. The man came from money, and she’d heard rumors that he had political aspirations. He’d probably do well in the political arena, too; he had a knack for knowing exactly what to say.

    If Taige hadn’t seen the bastard in action, she wouldn’t believe how utterly ruthless he could be. If he focused that ruthless intent solely on helping victims, she could even admire it. But although he was damn good at his job, he placed his own ambitions just a little higher than the job. He’d ruined the careers of people who got in his way—part of the reason she had decided not to join the FBI. She didn’t want to end up some innocent bystander in one of his crusades.

    But as focused and ambitious as the bastard was, he knew better than to show up at her door after she’d told him she needed time off. So whatever case had brought him here had to be damn important. Otherwise, he wouldn’t risk it. She glared at him, eyes still bleary with exhaustion, but instead of shutting the door on him, she pushed it open wider and let him step inside.

    Without saying a word, she left him in the foyer and went to her room. Her wardrobe was fairly monochromatic: a lot of black, interspersed with the occasional pair of blue jeans, and a few things in red and white. She hated shopping, and as a result, her wardrobe was minimal, containing little more than the basics. Pissed Jones off to no end when she showed up on a job wearing her standards, black jeans and T-shirt. Feeling just a little petty, she grabbed a particularly ratty pair of blue jeans, so faded they were nearly white, snug through her hips and butt with a big hole in the left knee.

    If Jones’s case was something she needed to do, they wouldn’t have any time to waste, which meant she’d show up at the job wearing the jeans she usually saved for yard work or cleaning. The black T-shirt wasn’t much better, faded to a dark, washed-out gray and hanging on her slender body. On the way out the door, she paused long enough to grab her boots and a pair of socks, just in case.

    But it was all for nothing, she knew less than three minutes later.

    She sat on the couch, staring at the confidential file, her heart breaking as a pair of innocent, sky-blue eyes stared up at her. The girl had been kidnapped by her father, who’d been released from jail on parole after serving three years for molesting the girl’s older sister. The mom had been pregnant when he went to trial, and it had been her impassioned testimony that had sent the bastard to jail.

    Too bad they hadn’t kept him.

    Taige swallowed around the knot in her throat and then closed the file and pushed it back at Jones. He didn’t even need to ask. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know, just like the look on his face told Taige that he was seriously pissed. “You’re sure?” he demanded.

    “If I wasn’t sure, you know I’d say so.”

    He turned his head, reaching up to pinch