Neither was losing their target.
He jogged across the parking lot, determined to find Adriana even if it meant going toe to toe with anyone who tried to stand in his way. He’d likely tipped his hand by showing off his skills in the chase and his badge to the police when he’d rescued her. He sure didn’t need her running now.
Just before the entrance, a shrill whistle echoed off the buildings. His feet slowed and his jaw set. He knew that sound. Knew who was behind it.
He wasn’t ready for this fight. Not now.
Before Colt stopped, he caught his breath and swallowed his frustration. No need to take this annoyance out on his teammates, even if they didn’t see eye to eye on this one.
When he turned, Brent McCord was almost at his side, his expression dark, his brown hair wild under his Stetson as though he’d ridden all the way here with the windows down.
Behind Brent, Ford Manning kept his gaze on the parking lot, his cowboy hat shading his face so that Colt couldn’t read his expression. He probably didn’t want to play peacemaker between his two teammates.
Colt jerked his head toward the door. “She’s inside. I’m on my way to find out where.”
“How is she?” Brent’s words were rushed, urgent. “She hurt?”
Balling his fists, Colt fought the urge to bite out a sarcastic response. “I don’t know. She was in shock when I pulled her out of the trunk, but she was conscious, coherent. The guy who stuffed her in the trunk hit her pretty hard though, and that was before that wild ride she took.”
“Was wrecking the car with her in the trunk your only option?”
That was it. Colt stepped closer to Brent, meeting green eyes at the exact same height as his own. “Would you prefer I opened fire? Took the risk of shooting her?” His voice was low, the words gravel in his mouth. Challenging Brent was another blow to his emotions, but he wasn’t going to be questioned. Not now. Not when the stakes were this high. “You weren’t there. I did the best I could. I’m sorry you’re girlfr—”
“Okay, enough.” Ford appeared in Colt’s peripheral vision and laid a hand on each man’s shoulder. “Do I need to remind you again that you’re on the same side? Or that you’re in public in front of the hospital and two of us are dressed in uniform so the whole world can identify us on social media as brawling Rangers?”
Colt hesitated half a second, then took a step back, hating that Ford was right on both counts. Bad publicity for the department was the last thing they needed. “Fine.”
Brent didn’t back down, but he did ease his stance, looking a little less like he was about to put a fist into Colt’s jaw. “Look, we have a problem.”
“From where I stand, we have a lot of problems.” Number one being their most wanted suspect was out of sight while they stood here debating her guilt.
“Enough.” Ford repeated the word, then shook his head. “I’m not the daddy of either one of you, but I’ll knock some sense into both of you if I have to.”
That did it. Colt’s mouth tipped into a grin, but it faded just as quickly. “What’s the problem?”
“Major Vance had a few of our guys track Danielle Segovia to a routine physical and was able to get a blood sample from the doctor a few days ago. We rushed it through and Lizzie just called. The DNA doesn’t match what we found at Greg’s crime scene.”
Colt took two more steps back, his hands loose at his sides. He wasn’t hearing this. If the DNA didn’t match, that meant Danielle Segovia wasn’t at the scene where Greg Gunn was killed. Or at least, that wasn’t her DNA on the scarf used to strangle him. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t kill Greg, and it doesn’t mean she’s not Adriana Garcia. With the Garcia name behind her, she can get plenty of henchmen to do her dirty work. We have that bracelet, too, the one she was wearing in surveillance videos and found right next to Greg’s body. Right there, we’ve got proof—”
“Convenient proof—maybe even planted.” Brent paced up the sidewalk away from the door and motioned for the other two men to follow.
Not this again. Colt glanced at the glass door, itching to head inside and find out where the supposed Danielle Segovia was before she vanished like smoke.
Ford jerked his head toward Brent and waited for Colt to follow.
He bristled at being treated like a bratty teenager, then puffed out a breath. He deserved it. He was acting like one.
Brent turned and pinned Colt with a hard gaze. “I still say her brother set her up. Rio Garcia wants his sister alive. She has his stash and he needs it back. If he set up Adriana, then all he has to do is watch where we go and we’ll lead him right to her.”
“He’ll have to be watching close.” Colt didn’t buy the whole Adriana Garcia is innocent thing. Brent was infatuated with a killer. “It would be hard for him to track us.”
“There’s no reason to think he doesn’t have somebody else on the inside. He had Greg.”
“Hey, now. Low blow there, McCord.” Ford’s drawl cut into the conversation before Colt could bristle and respond. Ford turned to Colt. “Ethan’s on his way over. He swept the area behind the store, and we’re waiting for a team to go into the Segovia apartment. He found her purse—she dropped it in the struggle. But he said the only ID in this girl’s wallet is Danielle Segovia. No links to Adriana Garcia at all.”
Colt wasn’t ready to believe the woman he’d hauled to the hospital babbling about her brother wasn’t their suspect. “We’ve been through this already. You and I both know how easy it is to manufacture a fake identity.” He was done here. He had an assignment and, right now, it lay inside that hospital, not out here rehashing what they already knew. “Y’all do what you have to do out here. I’m going to make sure Danielle Segovia or Adriana Garcia or whatever her name is doesn’t slip out while we’re not looking.”
Before either of his teammates could argue, he stalked toward the door, falling in behind a young kid with floppy dark hair, wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, who rushed to the counter ahead of Colt.
The kid reached for ID and passed it to the security guard at the desk. “I’m looking for my sister, Danielle Segovia.”
Colt froze. Adriana Garcia only had one brother. Rio. This kid was definitely not the cartel lord. He edged closer and glanced at the ID on the counter. Justin Segovia. The same address as Danielle’s apartment.
If Danielle Segovia really was Adriana Garcia, then who was this kid? And what did he want with her?
Danielle’s head pounded.
No. That wasn’t it.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. It wasn’t just her head. It was every part of her body. Even her hair hurt. For sure her head took the prize, though. Every time she managed to crack her eyes open, the light in the hospital room drilled into her skull. But mixed in with the pain was fear.
What had happened to the man who had manhandled her to the ground? Was he still here? Waiting for her? Lurking in the hallway? Her memories were too muddled to make any sense. She remembered darkness. Chaotic, whirling darkness. Slamming against objects. A dull roar that rose and fell until it lapsed into eerie, shuddering silence with a final crash. Then...light. And a face she recognized, arms lifting and cradling her as she tried to bring reality back into focus.
The man from her shop. He’d spoken very little, only a few words she couldn’t piece together. He’d brought her to the hospital.
He’d saved her life.
Why?
Her