Reckless Pleasures

“According to the report, she was out bike riding at around seven the last anyone saw her,” Jason said.

“Was the bike found?”

“No.”

“Who saw her?”

“A neighbor.”

“The last time she had contact with a family member?”

“Five-thirty, just after dinner. Her sister.”

“How old is the sister?”

“Ten.”

“Friends?”

Jason uncapped a marker and enlarged dots already made on the map. “These are where her friends live…”

The last one he circled edged a large thatch of forest.

They all leaned back and groaned.

“Right,” Megan said. “We’re talking over twenty-five hundred acres of land here. And I don’t think I have to point out that this area of Florida has had a lot of rain and the ground is oversaturated. As a result, there are some parts the sheriff’s personnel haven’t been able to reach yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dominic Falzone asked. “What, are they afraid of getting their feet wet?”

A couple of chuckles and added insults.

Megan looked toward the door where she knew the deputy was talking to the motel manager just outside.

“We’ll be working together as a team, guys, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep the insults to a minimum.”

Dominic Falzone was a decorated war vet, a tried-and-true Marine, but his mouth had landed the dark-haired, dark-eyed Lazarus team member into more than his fair share of hot water.

Jason stepped up. “Since conditions today are much like they were yesterday, search personnel probably guessed there was no way the girl could have gotten in and out of those areas by herself.”

Megan’s fingers tightened on her own marker.

Of course, what went unsaid was that someone could have taken her in there.

“Listen up, this is the plan…”

Within ten minutes Jason had outlined where he wanted them to enter the forest, each at twenty-five-yard intervals.

“Okay, we don’t have much usable daylight left,” he said. “Grab your gear and let’s get going.”

It was only 4:00 p.m., but since it would be darker inside the forest without direct sunlight, they estimated maybe three hours before they’d have to call it quits for the night.

Of course, Megan fully expected there to be objections.

She hefted her own bag and followed the team out of the room, watching where Lazarus partner Lincoln Williams stood against the wall outside, having listened without participating, every bit the spook he had once been with the FBI, smoking a cigarette. He pitched it to the curb and followed.

IT WAS AFTER TEN before they returned to the motel and after midnight before the command center emptied out except for him and Megan. Other team members had returned to their own rooms to catch what sleep they could before rising again at 5:00 a.m.

Jason sat back in one of the extra chairs that had been brought in. While they were away, the motel owner had arranged to have the beds removed and chairs and two folded tables brought in instead. Jason didn’t feel tired in the least. They’d made good ground today. But they needed to find the girl soon.

“Where did Linc get off to?” Megan asked, stretching.

“Lord knows. Even when he’s here, I hardly know it.”

A ghost of a smile. “Tell me about it. The guy’s as big as a train car, but if he doesn’t want to be seen, he won’t be.”

Jason thought about pushing the box of cold hot wings her way, wondering if she’d refuse. He hadn’t seen her eat much of anything all day, always busy doing something or other, either checking notes or surveying the map and detailing tomorrow’s route.

He nearly sighed in relief when she reached for the box herself, pulling it forward and taking out one of the sticky chicken wings. He leaned back and took a beer from a cooler, twisted off the top and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”

He opened himself one and then rocked back on the chair legs, watching her.

She made no attempt to take dainty bites, the way he’d seen countless women before her do. And when she took a pull from the beer, it was a genuine tip-your-head-back slug that emptied half the bottle.

He grinned and absently rubbed his chin. If not for the way her T-shirt emphasized her breasts, he might think she was one of the guys.

His gaze homed in on her mouth and he felt a strangely familiar tightening of his pants across his groin. Oh, no, even without makeup and a dress, there was absolutely nothing masculine about Megan McGowan.

“What?”

He blinked up into her blue eyes, realizing he’d been caught. “Nothing.” He pointed toward her mouth. “You’ve got a bit of sauce…yeah, right there.”

She wiped at the red dot with her napkin and continued eating.

“Good?”

“Huh?” She looked at the wing in her hand. “I didn’t even notice. I’m operating on automatic right now.”

Jason let the chair legs clunk to the floor. “Yeah, me, too.”

“They’re not bad, I guess.” She shrugged. “I’m not a big wings girl, really.”

“What kind of girl are you, really?”

She smiled. “A regular fried-chicken kind of girl.”

He chuckled and swallowed a good portion of his beer.