The Equalisers: A Soldier's Oath

“But your ex didn’t want you to take his son out of the country.”

Before she could stop the onslaught, memories from that day swarmed inside her head, making her want to cry. She blinked back the emotions. This might be her last chance. She couldn’t screw it up.

“Not only did he not want me to take him out of Kuwait, he wanted me to go and he never wanted me to see my child again.” How could she have lived with him for nearly three years and not noticed how little he actually cared for her? She’d gotten a crash course those last few months.

Focus, Willow. No drifting.

Jim Colby waited for her to continue. She licked her lips, swallowed at the emotion pressing at the back of her throat and said the rest. “He had me exported out of the country like black-market cargo. He left me at an airport in California with no ID at all. He took everything to ensure I couldn’t immediately return. Then he filed for divorce and claimed I had deserted him as well as our son.”

“The Kuwaiti legal system ruled in his favor, of course.”

She nodded, unsure of her voice now. Images of her little boy kept swimming in front of her eyes.

“When was the last time you saw your son, Ms. Harris?”

“Eight months, one week and two days ago.” She could give him the actual hour, but she’d given enough.

“Why seek professional help now? After so many months? Did your attorney give you reason to believe your situation could be worked out some other way?”

He cut right to the chase. She liked that. Hope glimmered inside her.

“I started with the legal system. But I soon figured out that I wasn’t going to make this happen through legal channels. My lawyer was pretty up-front about that. Then I started hiring private investigators in an attempt to find someone who could help me.”

“How many P.I.s have you hired during the past few months?”

She wanted to tell him that information was irrelevant. But he was right to ask. He couldn’t operate unless he had all the pertinent facts. Going through half a dozen P.I.s had taught her that.

“Six.”

He was number seven if she didn’t count the low-rent guy who had given her the free advice about coming here.

If the number surprised him he didn’t let on. But she wasn’t so sure she would be able to read anything in those blue eyes anyway. If she’d thought Davenport was unreadable, this guy had it down to a science.

“What is it you want me to do for you, Ms. Harris?”

Not only could she not read his eyes, his voice gave away absolutely nothing.

She clutched the arms of her chair, braced herself for an uphill battle. “I just want my son back, Mr. Colby. I don’t care how you have to do it. I want him back.”

“You’re certain he’s still alive and living in Kuwait?”

The question, uttered with such frankness, tore at her heart. But at least it wasn’t a no. That meant he was considering her request.

“Yes, I’m positive.”

Now would come the part that would change his mind.

“Tell me about your ex-husband. Is he the kind of man who would go to extreme measures to keep what he believed belonged to him? What kind of personal security, if any, does he maintain?”

Ice slid through her veins. This was where he would insert the “no.”

“My ex-husband will do anything to keep his son.” She thought of Davenport’s man and a new wave of terror washed over her. She had to tell that part to Colby. “Including possibly hurting anyone who gets in his way. He has a heavy security detail.” Davenport had used those terms when describing her husband’s personal security.

Please, God, she prayed, don’t let this man be afraid to take her case.

The strangest thing happened then. Mr. Colby smiled. Not the wide, ear-to-ear kind of charming smile to set her at ease. Not at all. This quirk of his lips was one-sided, almost daring. She hadn’t noticed the scar on his cheek until then. The scar had her looking closer… noting the harsh planes and angles of his face. He looked hard… brutal maybe. Fear trickled through her. Whatever it takes, she reminded herself.

“Sounds like your ex-husband needs a lesson in proper parenting. Not to worry, Ms. Harris, I know how to handle men like him.”

She blinked, took a breath to banish the trepidation that had started to build. Had she misunderstood?

“Does this mean you’re taking my case?”

“I’m not only taking your case, Ms. Harris, I’m going to get your son back for you.”

Chapter Three

6:20 p.m.

Over three hours.

Willow had left Jim Colby’s office at three o’clock. He’d promised to call as soon as he was prepared to brief her on his strategy for recovering her son.

She’d checked into a motel close by. She’d been waiting ever since.

Her cell phone lay on the bedside table, the charging icon blinking. She’d almost forgotten to plug it in. That would have been bad. That portable device had become her lifeline in the past few months. She never knew when the P.I. currently working her case would need to reach her, so she’d kept the thing turned on 24/7.

She thought about Jim Colby and his insistence that he would ensure she got her son back. That was definitely a first. She’d had several ambitious P.I.s claim they could handle her case upon initial acceptance, but not one had looked her dead in the eye and stated unequivocally that he would get the job done.

A blend of hope and uncertainty twisted in her chest. Could Jim Colby really do this?

Who was this man who would dare to make such a promise?

Before coming to Chicago she had looked up what she could about him on the Internet, but most of the stuff that had popped up on her search was actually about his mother and her private investigations agency. His past appeared to have fallen beneath the radar somehow. Whether that was good or bad she hadn’t decided just yet.

But if he could get her son back she didn’t care what lay behind that slightly marred, flinty face. Who he was didn’t really matter. All that mattered was whether or not he could do what he said he could do.

She wanted desperately to cling to that hope, but she needed to know more before she let herself believe fully in this man. However prestigious his mother’s reputation, he was an unknown and unproven entity.

God, she was so tired. She’d barely slept last night. As much as she wanted to crash and sleep for hours, she couldn’t do that until she had some indication of what would happen next.

… you’re looking for a miracle…

Maybe Davenport had been right. Maybe she was looking for a miracle. She’d certainly had the kind recounted in the Bible told to her over and over again as a child, but did real miracles actually happen anymore? And the next question was, had she found that miracle, if it really did exist, in the Equalizers?

A knock on the door of her motel room had her practically jumping out of her skin.

Housekeeping? Surely not at this hour. No one knew she was in Chicago. Not that she had anyone. Even her folks had disowned her when she married someone they considered a terrorist. That had been the kinder of the names they had given him.