Safe At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron

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      Behind her, the girls screamed. Charlotte raised her hands in a submissive gesture. “Please don’t hurt them,” she said in a choked voice. “I don’t keep much money here, but you can take it all.”

      “We don’t want your money,” the shortest guy shouted. “Get on the ground.”

      A sob echoed behind her, then another scream.

      “I said get down!” the one who seemed to be in charge barked.

      Charlotte dropped to the floor, her gaze scanning the room for something to use as a weapon, but her art supplies and brushes wouldn’t do any good against these guns. Semiautomatics. They weren’t playing around.

      Her phone was inside her purse in her office, too. She didn’t have a weapon or an alarm.

      Boots clicked on the wood floor as the heaviest man strode to her. With one quick grunt, he slammed the butt of the gun against her head. Stars swam in front of her eyes as the world spun. More screams rent the air, shrill and piercing.

      Panic shot through Charlotte. She had to do something. If the men didn’t want money, what did they want?

      “Leave us alone!” Adrian cried.

      “Don’t shoot!” Agnes said shakily.

      A bullet pinged off the ceiling, silencing them all.

      Evie ducked behind an easel while the sisters hunched together beneath a table. Mae Lynn pushed her easel over, paint splattering, and ran for the door, but one of the men grabbed her as if she weighed nothing.

      “Please don’t hurt me,” Mae Lynn cried.

      Charlotte pushed to her hands and knees, desperate. “Let her go. Take me if you want, but leave these kids alone.”

      A bark of sarcastic laughter, sickening in its sound, filled the air as the brute slammed the gun against her head again, then jerked her arm and flung her against the wall. Pain ricocheted through her head and shoulder and, for a second, she thought she might pass out.

      Then everything happened at once.

      The men charged the girls. Agnes and Adrian kicked and fought. Mae Lynn was sobbing, trying to wrestle free, while Evie scrambled toward the back room to escape, throwing chairs and paintbrushes, whatever she could grasp hold of.

      The man chasing Evie tossed the table aside, then snatched her up, laughing as she flailed and fought.

      One of them muttered something, but she couldn’t understand the words.

      Then the men dragged the girls toward the door to the outside. Charlotte couldn’t let them get away.

      Ignoring the pain in her skull, she grabbed the wall and pulled herself up, then staggered forward.

      A second later, a gunshot erupted, then pain seared her shoulder where the bullet had struck. Another bullet zinged by her head and skimmed her temple, and her legs gave way.

      She collapsed on the floor, blood gushing from her shoulder. “Let them go!” She crawled after them, but another bullet pinged the floor in front of her, then the intruders dragged the girls through the door.

      The biggest brute stood guard, his gun releasing more ammunition across the room to keep her at bay. Bullets pierced the walls and ripped at the canvases, sending paint tubes and containers spilling to the floor.

      Her blood mingled with the paint, and the two blended together, the vibrant colors fading to a dull brown. The huge man strode to her and slammed the gun against her head one more time.

      A sharp pain splintered her skull, then the world turned black as he disappeared out the door.

      * * *

      SPECIAL AGENT LUCAS HAWK studied the photographs of the missing girls from Waco and Abilene on the white board in the task-force meeting room.

      Two kidnappings, two different cities in Texas. Both by a group of masked men who’d abducted teenagers. Female teenagers.

      The men’s motive hadn’t been confirmed, but Lucas suspected what they were doing, and it made him sick to his stomach.

      He’d lost his own sister when she was just a kid and he’d been fifteen, and understood the agony these families must be suffering.

      “There are eleven victims in Texas so far,” Special Agent Tradd Hoover stated.

      So far? Implying he believed there would be more.

      “At this point, none of the victims have been found. We have no real lead as to where the men are holding the girls, either.” Agent Hoover paused, his expression grim. “Or for how long.”

      The sheriff from Waco raised his hand. “You don’t think they’re killing them?”

      Agent Hoover shook his head. “If they were, we would have found bodies. We believe this is a highly organized human-trafficking ring. They’re bold, aggressive, and the fact that they’re abducting groups of teens implies they have orders to fill.”

      “Any witnesses?” Lucas asked.

      “None that have survived,” Agent Hoover said. “The kidnappers come armed and dangerous, and have taken out anyone in their path.”

      The door opened, and Deputy Director Henry Fredericks stepped into the room, rubbing a hand over his bald head. “Just got a call. Another group kidnapping. Four victims.” He flicked his pointer finger toward Lucas. “Your hometown, Hawk. Your brother called it in. He wants us there. Yesterday.”

      A coldness swept over Lucas. The trafficking ring had struck Tumbleweed.

      For God’s sake, they’d just finally closed the book on his sister’s disappearance and death.

      With four teenagers from Tumbleweed missing, the town would be in an uproar.

      “You hear me, Special Agent Hawk?” the deputy director said.

      Lucas jerked himself to attention and stood. “Yes, sir, I’m on my way.”

      The deputy director cleared his throat. “There’s something else. This time there’s a witness. She’s been shot and needs surgery. But if she makes it, we may have caught a break and she can tell us more about these sons of bitches.”

      Lucas nodded. If she knew anything, he’d find out. Then hopefully they could stop this crew before they got too far away with the teens.

      The wind whistled as he stepped outside. He jogged to his car and sped from the parking lot. The deputy director had said if the witness survived. He couldn’t waste time.

      He pressed Harrison’s number as he drove, tension knotting his shoulders. His brother answered on the third ring.

      “I’m on my way, Harrison. The deputy director said you have a witness.”

      “Hopefully,” Harrison said. “She’s unconscious now. The medics are transporting her to the hospital.”

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