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Jackson Moore lunged for the gun the assailant dropped, but the man tackled him before he could touch it. He flipped the man. Using his legs to pin the man down against the porch, Jackson placed his hands on either side of the man’s face and slammed his head against the planks until he passed out.

The scream had him jumping to his feet. He took in the situation in a span of a few seconds and lunged off the porch to tackle his assailant’s back-up before the guy could grab Reagan Barlowe. They rolled from the impact before scrambling to their feet and squaring off against each other. The man swung a fist, but Jackson sidestepped. He grabbed the man’s arm and swung him around to bang him against the side of the house. The man stumbled backward, disoriented, and Jackson took advantage. He wrapped his arms around the man’s head and applied pressure until the man blacked out and slumped to the ground.

Sirens sounded in the distance, rapidly growing louder as the authorities got closer to his location. He stared off in the direction Reagan had run and whirled around to scan the neighborhood. Other than a lot of looky-loo neighbors watching him warily, he couldn’t see anything else. She was gone, and he was left with a mess on his hands.

Pulling his cell from his pocket, he dialed a familiar number while securing the weapons from the two assailants.

Ben Weston answered on the first ring. “You got her?”

“No. I got here in time to prevent two guys from kidnapping her though. She ran off during the fight. The targets are down and disarmed, but the LEOs are going to be on this place quick. Are you close enough to run interference?”

After hearing of English’s attack, Ben had been breaking every speed limit in a rush to get back from his assignment. Jackson hated to sidetrack him, but he needed his brother’s help on this one. Ben was the brother closest to his location, and his skills for grifting would be useful.

“Yeah. I can handle it. Think my FBI cover would work?”

“Perfect,” Jackson agreed. “There are a lot of noisy neighbors who are going to ID me.”

“Copy that. You go after the girl, and I’ll smooth things over with the LEOs. Did the targets have ID?”

Jackson hated to waste any more time. Reagan slipped further away the longer he lingered, but these guys could be the key to finding out what was going on. So far he and his brothers had no clue, and the questions brewing among them were almost unbearable. They were used to finding answers and not hitting dead ends at every turn.

“Hold on.” He searched the guy on the ground first and pulled a wallet from the man’s back pocket. He opened it as he crossed to the porch, jumped up on the side, and searched the second guy. Other than a fake badge, the second guy had nothing to identify him.

“Only one of them has ID. The name on his license is John Jones from Birmingham, Alabama.”

“Sounds like an alias,” Ben surmised.

“Yeah, I think so too. Look, I’ve got to bail. Those sirens are getting too close for comfort.”

“Go. I got this. I’ll check in once I smooth things over and see what kind of intel I can gather. Find the girl.”

“I will.”

Jackson sprinted back to his truck. He’d parked it down the street when he’d first arrived after spotting the dark sedan parked outside Reagan’s house. His gut had told him then to be sneaky in his approach. He and his brothers had suspected whoever put English in the hospital was also coming after his daughter — once they learned English had a daughter — and now they had confirmation their suspicions were accurate.

Jackson scowled as he sped down the street, certain the older man in the house next door to Reagan’s was copying his license plate number. It didn’t matter. Ben would spin a tale which would prevent the local law enforcement officers from digging any deeper. He’d used his FBI cover many times when he worked a case and needed intel, and he could work a con like none other.

He drove the quiet streets around the neighborhood more than once, but Reagan Barlowe had disappeared. She must have sought refuge with a neighbor and was laying low. He couldn’t risk drawing attention by going door to door asking about her. He needed help tracking her, and his brother Luke was his go-to resource. He wasn’t sure Luke could be of much help since he was at the hospital watching over English and Becky, but Jackson was running out of options.

“How’s Gish?” Jackson barely gave his brother time to say hello.

“No change. The surgeon has been back, and I told him next of kin was on the way. What’s your ETA?”

“About that. I lost her.”

Luke didn’t respond for several seconds, and Jackson could almost picture the anger on his brother’s face. Luke’s temper was renowned, and he was exceptionally scary when he got quiet. It was usually the quiet before the shitstorm.

“What do you mean you lost her? Gish is dying, and they need her here as his medical proxy. Dammit, Jackson. You’re supposed to be watching out for her and getting her here.”

“I didn’t have a choice. They beat me to her.”

“Who?” Luke demanded.

“Two guys. One was waiting in the car. The other was inside, holding her at gunpoint, when I got here. I got her out of the way and took him down. She ran off when his buddy decided to join the party, and by the time I took the second one out, she was gone.”

“Shit! What did you do with the targets?”

“Searched them. Found their fake IDs. Then left to hunt for the girl. Ben is going to work the local LEOs, so we can figure out who the targets are and why they’re after Reagan and Gish. I can’t blame the girl for running, but I’ve got a feeling this is far from over. I need to find her for her own safety as much as for Gish. I know you’re at the hospital, but I was hoping you could find a way to track her cell. I’ve tried looking through the neighborhood, but no luck.”