Page 10 of Unplanned Target

FOUR

OWEN

I really hope Butch stays asleep for a while. This whole situation has already gone off the rails, and it’s rolling downhill.

Fast.

“I know it’s a lot.” I smooth my palm up and down Miranda’s spine, trying to soothe her. “Just focus on breathing.”

Not for a second did I expect our trip to the coffee shop would end in a pursuit, let alone one that would involve gunfire. I prepared for it, of course, but I didn’t anticipate it being the outcome. I thought it would be a simple trip to collect information. Hopefully gain access to their camera feeds. Possibly even find Allie if we were very, very lucky.

I got none of what I wanted and plenty I didn’t bargain for. Not a great ratio.

“This is insane.” Miranda straightens, her head dropping back against the rest. “Someone just shot at me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, they were probably shooting at me.” I spare a quick glance at the woman beside me, looking her over to ensure she’s okay. “You just happened to be in the same vehicle.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” She waves one hand in my direction. “If you get shot, I’m screwed.” Her waving hand moves to press against her head. “Oh, God. What about Allie? There’s absolutely no way it was really Kinsley who messaged her. It was whoever just freaking shot at us.”

“I agree.” I wouldn’t admit that to most clients, but Miranda seems to prefer the truth, regardless of what it is. “But if they were still there…”

Miranda’s head snaps toward me, a flicker of hope sparking in her dark eyes. “Then maybe they don’t have her.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” I can’t think of a reason whoever’s responsible for luring Allie to the coffee shop would stick around if they got what they wanted. They should have been as far away as possible. Especially if what they wanted was to kidnap a sixteen-year-old girl.

“Okay.” Miranda slides both hands down the front of her jeans. “That’s good.” She nods along like she’s agreeing with herself while she continues rubbing her legs. “So all we have to do is find her. Then everything will be fine.”

“Well…” I try to come up with a good way to explain the more likely outcome. A way that will hopefully not end in Miranda having a full-fledged meltdown. “Fine is relative.”

Miranda’s head slowly turns my way. “Relative? What the fuck does relative mean?”

“It means things probably won’t go back to being fine, even after we find Allie.” By probably, I mean definitely. “Whoever reached out to her now knows I’m involved, and they didn’t seem to love that new development.”

“Then we’ll uninvolve you.” Miranda says it like it’s a viable option. “You go back to wherever mercenaries come from, and Allie and I go back to our normal lives.”

“Pretty sure you know that’s not an option.” I make a turn that should angle us toward Miranda’s home. “Until we find out who messaged her, you two won’t be safe.”

Technically, they probably haven’t been safe for a while, we just didn’t know it. Luring Allie out alone wasn’t a plan someone hatched over their morning coffee and put into action by lunch. They’ve likely been figuring out the logistics for weeks. Monitoring her actions. Biding their time until the right moment.

And today was that time.

Unfortunately, now that I know someone has been watching Miranda and Allie, I have some difficult decisions to make. Decisions I’m completely confident the woman next to me is going to fucking hate.

It took me about two-point-five seconds to clock Butch’s sister as someone who very much likes to be in control. And I love it. I understand it. I respect it.

But right now, it’s making my job more difficult.

“You should know it’s probably not safe to stay at your house right now.” I lay it out carefully, hoping if I handle this correctly, Miranda will look at things objectively instead of having a knee-jerk reaction to someone else making decisions about her life. “It’s likely your home has been and will continue to be under surveillance.”

Miranda pales the tiniest bit. “You saw someone watching my house?”

“No. I canvassed the neighborhood as I came in, there was no one monitoring it.” It’s a process I’m going to repeat now, hoping I can take her home so she can pack a bag for herself and Allie. “But I don’t think that’s how it’s always been, and I don’t believe that’s how it will stay. Especially now.” We’ve got a very limited window to get in and get out. A window that might have already closed.

Luckily, Miranda is a smart woman, so I don’t have to give her conclusions. All I have to do is offer facts and let her figure it out herself. Not only does it free me up to put most of my focus on scanning the area for any sign of danger, but it also allows her to feel like she’s playing an active part in this.

“So if I can’t stay at my house, where am I going to go?” Miranda’s voice pitches the way it does when she begins winding up. When her thoughts are starting to spiral and compound.

I want to cut that off at its knees. Keep her as calm as possible because the calmer she is, the easier this whole thing is going to be. She can freak out later. When I have her—and hopefully her daughter—safe.