Rosie’s whole body shook as she spoke to her mother. I began to pace back and forth across the floor, my mind whirring. Scooter and his delinquent friends had stormed the house that morning, demanding to know where Rosie was. When he realized she wasn’t coming back, he took their son instead. I couldn’t begin to imagine how Rosie felt.

Rosie hung up the phone and faced me, her face drained of all color. “Tell me what to do, Franklin. He took my son.”

“Call the cops,” I said, flexing my hands and wishing I could get my hands on that bastard for what he’d done.

“The cops?” She frowned and shook her head. “Scooter is his father. What can the cops do?”

She was right, of course. “Did he say anything to your mother?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes widening. “He wanted a phone number where he could reach me.”

Shit. It was clear as day what Scooter had planned, and I started to hate the man even more than I already did. Rosie wasn’t going to like this. Not one bit. And if I knew this girl at all—and I was starting to believe I understood her pretty damn well—she’d go along with whatever shit Scooter threw at her if that meant getting Owen out of this place.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Franklin?” She still stared at me with wide and fearful eyes, tears leaking out of them, and my whole heart turned to mush. I couldn’t stay strong against a look like that. I’d do whatever it took to take this pain away from her, though the logical part of my brain told me to drag her out of this town right now so she could get far, far away.

At least then she’d be safe for good.

But she couldn’t leave behind her kid, not with that asshole.

“He’s going to ask you for a goddamn exchange, Rosie.” I crossed my arms and tipped back my head to look up at the ceiling, as if held answers I couldn’t find in my own head and heart. “I can almost guarantee you he’ll want you to exchange yourself for your kid.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and then pulled her whole body up straight, looking several inches taller than she was. “If that’s what he wants, then that’s what he’ll get.”

“I can’t let you do that. He’ll kill you.”

“You can’t stop me from doing what I want.” She rushed toward me then, jabbed a finger at my chest, but just as quickly as the rage came, it left. Her whole body began to shake as the tears streamed from her eyes. Groaning inwardly, I wrapped my arms around her back and pulled her close, letting her cry out the tears she so desperately needed to shed. Her face pressed against my shirt, soaking it within moments. But I didn’t push her away. I just stood there in the middle of the room, holding her and stroking her hair.

“Shh,” I said quietly, my heart constricting in my chest. How the hell was I going to get her out of this? I had no idea, but I knew I had to try. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get Owen. Don’t you worry.”

“How?” She pulled back to look up at me, and I could see the stain of her tears on my shirt.

“I don’t know yet,” I said, “but I’ve handled far worse than Scooter Stone. I’ll come up with a plan. One that’ll get both of you out of here and that guy behind bars.”

The trust and hope I saw in her eyes was almost too much too bear. I meant every word, but a little niggling voice reminded me that I was no longer the agent I once was. Bulldog could have taken down Scooter Stone and his whole entourage without breaking a sweat, but I was Franklin Snow now. A nobody. With my assets frozen by the FBI, I didn’t even have access to the bloated bank account that could have bought me anyone and anything to take this guy out.

“You really were a spy, weren’t you?” she asked. “That’s how you were able to lose him in the car last night.”

“I was a special agent,” I said in a low voice. “But that’s all I can say.”

A smile spread across her face, and she hugged me tighter. I tried to hold back the nausea that filled my head. She thought she’d hit the jackpot. Who else better to help her than a special agent of the FBI? But, if she ever found out my full story, she might never speak to me again, much less want me to help her get her son.

“So, what’s our first step?” she asked, pulling back to look up at me. I turned away then. I just couldn’t look at her like this. All the anger and the yelling and the suspicion was so much easier for me to handle than this open display of trust.

What the hell is wrong with you?

I shook my head at myself and forced my brain to focus on what was important. Right now, my conflicted feelings toward Rosie wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was getting her and her son out of Carlsville alive.

“We wait for Scooter to call,” I said. “I doubt it’ll take him long. Men like that have very little patience.”

“We just wait?” She frowned, but this time, she didn’t argue. “What do we do in the meantime?”

Her words sent a suggestive thrill through me, and I swallowed hard, moving toward the window to peer out the curtain. The sun had risen high overhead, highlighting the curving main road that sliced through the heart of the small town. The parking lots for Cracker Barrel and Shoney’s were now full, and my stomach growled.

It had been a hell of a long time since we ate.

“I’ll order us up some room service so we can have some breakfast,” I finally said, turning to face her. She now sat on the bed, and her face visibly fell at the distance I’d put between us. But I knew that right now she didn’t really want me, even if she thought she did. She wanted comfort. She wanted to escape her pain. And I wasn’t going to take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable like this.

Before she could respond, my burner phone buzzed in my pocket. Frowning, I extracted it from my jeans and glanced at the number. It was Rockford. That was surprising. He shouldn’t be calling me, and he knew it. Maybe he just wanted to see how Rosie was doing. He’d been the only reason I’d found her handler after all.

“This is Bulldog.”

Rosie’s eyebrows popped to the top of her forehead, but I turned away from her surprise. I’d have to deal with that later.

“You’ve got to get out of there,” Rockford’s voice was rushed and breathless. “That girl? Rosie Smith? Her handler put two and two together and figured out it was you that called him this morning.”

“Shit.” My pulse throbbed in my veins. “Fucking shit.”

“That whole song and dance about him coming in with a team to extract her son is just a trap. They don’t plan to get him out of there at all,” Rockford said. “The agency has a team on the way, and their orders are the same as they’ve ever been. They’re to bring you in no matter what.”

My heart went cold at his words. “Dead or alive.”