Four

FOUR

Paxton

Present Day

"Everyone in position?"

I held myself steady, barely breathing, as I waited for confirmation from my team that they were all ready to go. We were in the middle of a rescue, and I refused to be the lead guy who screwed it up by not being absolutely certain of the state of each member on my team.

Once I received confirmation from everyone—Damon, Magnus, Banks, Hart, and Nixon—that they were prepared for what was ahead of us, I said, "We've got one shot, boys. Stay focused on your targets."

"It's not our first rodeo, Pax," Hart pointed out. "We're good. Let's get this done."

He wasn't wrong.

Of course, he wasn't.

And I knew I could count on the guys to do what they needed to do, but there was that one small part of me that was compelled to take additional precautions. I needed to be sure, because this case required that extra level of sensitivity.

No matter how badly I wanted to dive in quickly like Hart had suggested, I had one more thing I needed to confirm. "Are you sure you're good to go, Nixon? You can get the kid if you think it'd be better."

"Unless you think you can't handle it, I'm good with my role," he fired back, his tone lethal.

Fair enough.

He was ready.

But since the man's wife was nearing the end of her pregnancy with their first child, I wanted to be mindful of where Nixon's head was at. We had a kidnapped child on our hands, and I didn't doubt it could be messing with his head.

Everybody's senses were already heightened, and it was safe to say we all had an edge of bitterness about this case.

A little girl had been kidnapped four days ago. Her name was Amelia, she was seven years old, and she was plucked from her lemonade stand in front of her house right in the middle of the day. Evidently, her mom had been outside with her, but she'd gotten distracted by Amelia's two-year-old brother. Swearing she'd only looked away for not even a minute, when Amelia's mom turned around, she realized her daughter was gone.

They'd gone to the police.

Two and a half days into it, desperate and exhausted, Amelia's parents came to Harper Security Ops.

With the information we'd gathered from Amelia's parents, along with the information the police department had rounded up—we worked with them frequently and they were happy to collaborate—our team of private investigators worked hard on locating Amelia.

They'd done that.

And now it was up to the Harper Security Ops kidnap and ransom team to bring this little girl home. We mobilized and had gotten to this point.

It was a matter of minutes before we'd have this girl rescued. My only hope was that she was still alive and uninjured. I suspected she'd be traumatized by the whole ordeal. Once we confirmed Amelia's physical safety, we'd do our best to provide her—and her family—with the resources they needed to help her mind heal from it all.

Confident my team was ready, I gave the order. "Let's move."

That was it.

That was the moment outside thoughts faded. There was a mission, a target. We had a job to do, and the focus was on getting that job done.

In any situation involving a kidnapping rescue, it was always tense. When a kid was involved, it always raised the stakes. But we were no less confident in our ability to get that positive outcome.

I, along with my team, entered the home and set about our tasks. Their job, cover me and take down any of the perpetrators. My job, get the little girl.

As I moved through the first floor of the house toward the staircase, I was acutely aware of everything happening around me. Every noise, from the grunts and groans from the men being apprehended and the hum of the air conditioning to the silence from the second floor as I climbed the stairs.

Instinct told me this wasn't going to be smooth sailing. It wasn't likely this little girl was left alone in a room. She was, if nothing else, being guarded by someone.

Seconds later, I learned I was right, and fortunately, I was prepared.

As I moved along the hallway toward the bedrooms, ready to search each one, I saw the movement of a shadow in the sunlit patch on the carpet. It gave me just enough warning. When a body sprang out in front of me, and an arm came flying toward my face, I went into self-defense mode.

It was like second nature to me. My body moved in all the ways necessary to protect the vital parts while doing what I needed to do incapacitate the guy. Though he put up a heck of a fight, regular drills, training, and real-world experience gave me the advantage.

Even better, by the time I'd knocked the guy out, I heard footsteps behind me and noticed Banks approaching. "I've got him," he declared. "You get the girl."

I moved on, checking each room, and when I'd made it to the second to last, I stepped inside and found Amelia. She was on the bed, and she looked terrified to see me. I got it. I was just another guy in a house filled with men she didn't know.

"Hi, Amelia."

She stared at me. Her face was pale, the circles around her eyes were dark. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. I wasn't convinced she'd had much to eat or drink, either. I couldn't bring myself to feel anything but relief about the fact she was still wearing clothes. I knew that didn't tell the full story and that it was entirely possible something horrific had happened to her, but my mind wouldn't allow me to think the worst.

Seeing this little girl sitting there, alone and terrified, something moved through me. It was always difficult in situations that involved kids. They were innocent victims that got caught up in situations in a world that was far too harsh for them sometimes.

Though I could have gotten caught up in all the wrongs I wanted to right in the world, Amelia needed better from me. So, I focused my energy and attention where I needed it to be.

"My name is Paxton, and I'm one of the good guys," I told her, noting a subtle change in her. It was clear she wanted to believe I was being honest, but she didn't know if she should. "Your mom and dad came to the place I work, and they asked me and some of my friends to help find you. I'd like to take you out of here, so we can call them to come and get you. What do you think about that?"

Amelia hesitated. I understood it, too.

There was nothing that set me apart from the men who'd taken her. I didn't look like a good guy. I wasn't wearing a uniform that might indicate to her I was supposed to be trustworthy.

So, I remained just a few feet inside the door, wanting to give her the opportunity to draw the correct conclusion.

It worked.

Within a minute or so, Amelia asked, "You're going to call my mom?"

"As soon as I get you out of this house, we're going to call her together," I promised .

"Where are you going to take me?"

"I'm going to take you out to my car, but we're not going to go anywhere in it," I explained. "We're going to sit there and wait for your mom and dad to get here."

Following a beat of silence, she acquiesced, "Okay."

I offered a friendly and reassuring smile. "Now, do you remember how I said I brought some of my friends with me to help find you?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Well, they are in other places in the house keeping the bad guys away. I don't want you to have to look at those bad guys again, so I think it'd be a good idea if you close your eyes while we leave. Does that sound like a good idea to you?"

After swallowing hard, she gave me another nod.

"Alright. So, since you won't be able to see to walk out of here, would it be okay with you if I picked you up and carried you?"

Amelia considered her answer and ultimately agreed she was comfortable with it. While I knew I could have waltzed in, scooped her up, and carried her out, I didn't know the extent of this little girl's trauma. Any control I could give her in this situation would hopefully help to not traumatize her further.

She scooted off the bed and walked in my direction. When she came to a stop a couple of feet away, her fearful eyes looked up at me. I reached my arms out to her, and when she did the same, I lifted her up.

"Alright, kiddo. You're safe now. Just close those eyes tight, and I'm going to get you outside before you can count to twenty."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and I moved. As I walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I said, "You're such a brave girl, Amelia. You're doing so good. Keep the eyes closed for just a few more seconds, and we'll be outside. I'll tell you when you can open them."

Her little arms tightened around my neck as she held on.

Long before Amelia could have counted to twenty, we stepped out into the fresh air. Even the muggy summer air felt like paradise compared to being inside that house.

"Okay, Amelia. You can open your eyes now."

She opened her eyes just as Magnus came up behind me.

"All good?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah. All threats neutralized. Damon and Hart are working on calming Nixon down, but otherwise, we're good. I'm calling the Steel Ridge PD and getting an ambulance on the way."

I jerked my chin up. "Good work. I'm taking her to my car. We're going to call her parents."

With that, I walked away from the house and toward my car. And before I knew it, Amelia was reunited with her parents, all of them breaking down into tears the moment they saw one another.

Amelia's father had approached me, the haunted look I'd seen in his eyes several days ago still lingering. He hadn't been able to thank me enough for rescuing his little girl. I assured him it had been a team effort and that no thanks were needed. We were all just relieved Amelia was safe and could get the help she needed to recover.

And a few hours later, I was on my way home, hoping I'd find a way to erase the horror of the day. A little girl was safe and with her family again. That was the only bright side. That she had ever needed to endure whatever awful things might have happened in that house was devastating. Maybe the day had ended well, but there was no question Amelia had a long road ahead of her.

It was at times like this when I both loved and hated my job. Because while there was the rewarding aspect to it, there were the downsides. And sometimes, they were far too ugly.

I could only hope I'd never have to experience the fear that so many individuals faced when their loved ones went missing.

The arrow flew and landed right in the middle of the target. A sense of satisfaction washed over me.

This was just what I needed.

The weekend had rolled around, and it was safe to say I had been ready for this break.

No matter how much I wanted to tell myself that I wasn't impacted by my work, the reality was that some cases had the power to take their toll on me.

Amelia's case had been one of them.

Over the last several days, I'd learned a bit more about what happened, and it hadn't been pleasant. While I hadn't gotten specifics—and believed it might have been better that way—the men we'd apprehended and handed over to the police had not only been dealt some kidnapping charges, but there was also sexual assault mixed in as well. I wasn't aware of the extent of the assault on her, but the way I saw it, none of it was acceptable.

It made me sick to think about what Amelia could have been through, but I was relieved to know she and her family had been provided with all the resources to help her—and them—heal and move past it.

Now that the weekend had arrived, I was grateful for some time to decompress and focus on something else.

I desperately wanted a distraction.

So, I decided to spend my afternoon in my driveway doing some archery. I had a target, a bow, and a quiver filled with arrows.

Ever since I was a kid, I'd always enjoyed target practice this way, so whenever I needed something to take my mind off anything heavy I dealt with at work, this was one of those things I did.

And each time the arrow hit the center of the target, the tension eased its way out of my body. That had been happening steadily all day long.

Until the last two shots.

Something felt off.

If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that the feeling I was experiencing had nothing to do with archery. I stood still for a moment, assessing, and that's when it hit me.

Somebody was watching me. I could feel it.

Given my line of work, it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that someone could be targeting me, plotting some type of revenge. We'd dealt with a situation like that at Harper Security Ops not that long ago.

And if what I was feeling was accurate, I didn't want to do something rash and ruin the chances I had of spotting this individual.

So, I moved slowly toward the target to pull out the arrows. When I turned around, I scanned the neighborhood, attempting to do it in a way that felt casual. Nothing seemed out of place. Nobody was around that shouldn't have been. Just a few kids on bikes and a handful of neighbors were out mowing their lawns.

Despite all seeming right, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Maybe the week's work had taken a bigger toll on me than I had originally thought.

I walked back to the edge of the driveway, shot all the arrows again, and looked down to the end of the street.

Still nothing.

Making my way to the target again, the tension built in my shoulders and across my back.

Was I losing my mind?

I gathered up my arrows again, turned in the opposite direction, and that's when I realized I wasn't going crazy.

My eyes landed on the house next door to mine, and I saw my new neighbor standing at the window, looking at me.

My body immediately relaxed.

This was only the second time I'd seen Aria—the first had been right when she'd moved in. We'd had a very brief conversation at that time, mostly just a friendly introduction, coupled with me welcoming her to the neighborhood by informing her I was there if she needed anything. Beyond that, we hadn't spoken.

From the distance, I could see the way her eyes flashed with surprise. She clearly hadn't expected me to notice her.

Not wanting her to feel bad, I smiled, lifted my free hand, and waved. Aria returned a lopsided grin and a small wave.

Just as I was about to urge her to step out, so we could talk for a bit, I heard, "Hi, Paxton!"

I twisted my neck and looked toward the end of the driveway. A couple of the kids from the neighborhood were making their way in my direction. "Hey, kids. What's going on?"

"We saw you shooting those arrows."

"Yeah, we wondered if you could show us how to do it."

I wasn't quite sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I'd become the resident cool guy in the neighborhood. These kids never went by without stopping to talk to me if I was outside.

I never shunned them.

And since I enjoyed archery so much, I had a feeling the kids would like it, too. "Sure. Have any of you ever tried it?" I asked.

"No."

"I've always wanted to, but my mom doesn't know anything about it. She says we'll have to find someone who does before we buy anything for it."

I laughed. "Well, I guess this is a great opportunity for you to check it out and make sure you like it before your mom spends any money on the gear. It can get expensive." I jerked my head toward the end of the driveway. "Come on, I'll teach you guys how."

The kids followed behind me to where I thought would be an appropriate distance to start learning. And as they moved their bikes off to the side, my eyes drifted toward Aria's window.

She was no longer there .

There was a small part of me that was hoping she'd walk out her door, but it never happened.

And sadly, I didn't catch another glimpse of her for the rest of the day.

But on the bright side, with my curiosity piqued about my new neighbor, I found the lasting bits of heaviness from my week had dissipated.