A soft thunk came from downstairs at Bail Bonds. Erikka froze hunkered down over the open drawer of the filing cabinet. It was Monday, a holiday, Bail Bonds was locked up tight. The bakery next door was also closed.

After several seconds and no noise coming from below her on the first floor of the building, she decided her paranoia had caught up with her. Pulling out the file she'd been looking for, she straightened. Her dad had kept all records on every client that he'd bonded out of jail throughout the years. She hoped there would be a picture of the men who broke in and threatened her, and she'd be able to get their names.

The men looking for Stoddard were probably forty-five years old. Ten years older than her. Still physically fit, threatening, and able to overpower her. She exhaled loudly and cradled her forehead in her hand. God, she missed her dad. Even two years later, she couldn't believe that a heart attack was the one thing that finally took him down.

At six feet four inches tall and pushing two hundred and forty pounds, Erik Levenson had a tough personality to match his physical strength. Nobody had messed with him.

Maybe that's why she trusted Chuck. He reminded her of her dad in the way he listened and spoke his point without pampering her with false promises. Matter of fact. Protector of women.

Having grown up without a mom, she was used to her dad's personality which had no room for being frivolous, accepting of drama, or the changing opinion that came with most women. But, her and Rachel knew as young girls that tears would break their father. Dad couldn't handle it when he believed his daughters were hurting, and they more than once saw his protectiveness come out on unsuspecting boyfriends.

How Rachel turned out to be a carefree dreamer escaped her understanding when they were raised in the same house with the same parent. Rachel had always tended to let her dreams get in the way of reality. From her six-week stint at college before giving it all up for a chance to backpack through Europe to handing her life savings over to a group of con artists in a time-share in Tahoe that she never received. No hiccup in the road of life ever got Rachel down, and she went on believing in others and wishing for the impossible.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She gasped, pressing her hand to her chest, berating herself for forgetting to pay attention to any possible noise or movements around her.

She stood, took out her cell, and read Chuck's name on the screen. It took her two swipes in her hurry to connect with someone else and not feel so alone to accept the call. "Hello?"

"Hey. It's Chuck," he said.

"You put your contact number in my phone, so your name was on the screen when you called," she said, scrunching her nose at her lack of letting the obvious go without comment.

"Right." He paused. "Listen, I need to talk with you face to face, away from there. Will you be ready if I swing by in ten minutes?"

"About my sister?" She reached out and held onto the filing cabinet.

"No, sweetheart."

"Oh. Okay." She peered down at her clothes. "Sure."

"See you in ten. I'll come to the front of the building."

The call disconnected. She shoved the phone back in her pocket and ran her hands through her hair and tried to calm herself. Every time her cell or the business phone downstairs rang, she expected her sister to be on the other end of the call.

She grabbed her sneakers and slipped them on. Chuck only wanted to talk. Jeans and a long-sleeved shirt would be fine. Grabbing the set of keys for the building, her purse, and her cell, she walked out the upstairs door and locked it behind her. The dark stairway slowed her steps. Tiptoeing downstairs, she strained to hear any noise that would alert her to someone hiding or waiting to catch her unaware. At the bottom, she peered around the corner of the wall and found the first floor empty.

Checking her phone for the time, she had five minutes to wait. She pushed the button on the computer monitor and clicked on the security camera icon. The screen went black. She moved the mouse back and forth trying to bring up the picture of the outside of the building. When the screen remained blank, she clicked on the X in the upper right-hand corner and tried to bring up the inside camera. A picture of herself sitting at the desk popped on screen.

"What...?" She went back and clicked on the outside camera button. There was nothing there. "What is going on?" she muttered.

She shut everything down and restarted her computer. If her security system went kaput, it came at the worst possible time. She needed to have a record of what was happening and proof of the crimes so when Rachel was brought home, every person involved with her abduction could be charged and pay for taking her sister.

Her desktop screen came back on. She clicked on the security program, found the back camera and opened.

She leaned in the chair, staring at the blank screen. Since she'd upgraded to different cameras after her dad had died, she'd never had a problem.

A knock echoed through the office. She jumped to her feet, spotting Chuck through the glass door. Casting one more look at the computer screen, she hurried across the room and let him inside.

"What's wrong?" He shut the door behind him.

She thrust her fingers in her hair. "Do you know anything about computers?"

He glanced behind her at her desk. "Yeah."

"I came down here to meet you and wanted to check each security camera and the one in the back isn't there. I pull up the screen, and it's just black. I hover the mouse over it, and the X in the corner shows up as it does when it's showing a picture." She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "Do you want to look?"

He followed her to the desk and sat in the chair she offered. She leaned over his shoulder and inhaled. He smelled fresh, outdoorsy, and leathery.

"What's the name of your security program?" he asked.

"Smile."

He leaned to the side and looked over his shoulder at her. "Smile?"

"Rachel named it." She shrugged. "Camera. Picture..."

"Got it." He turned back around and found the icon.

Instead of straightening, she inhaled his scent again. He was big, even when he sat in a chair. She inspected the tiny hairs all over his head. Her fingers squeezed the back of the chair. Was his scalp soft like a puppy or prickly like whiskers?

She raised her hand. If she only touched the ends of the hair and not his head, he wouldn't even—

"Erikka?"

She jolted, dropping her arm to her side. "Yes?"

"The camera behind the building isn't working. It's offline." He pushed the rolling chair away from the desk.

She stepped back to avoid touching him, and he grabbed her upper arms. Her apology for being in his way never went past thinking of the words when he turned her around and set her in the chair.

"Stay." He walked away from her, going in the direction of the back door.

She leaned to the side and peddled the floor with her feet, moving the chair to watch what he was doing. He no sooner went out, and he came back in and locked the door.

"Someone clipped the wire." He held up the black camera that had been mounted ten feet off the ground out of everyone's reach. "You can't stay here. Pack your clothes. You'll stay at my house until we get another camera up that they won't find."

She stood and stared at him. He spoke too much. She couldn't grasp the situation.

"Clipped?" She reached for the camera and turned the cylinder shape around in her hands.

"Whoever installed the system never secured the wire, keeping it inside the structure." He sat down in the chair and turned around toward the computer. "There's a short connection coming off the camera that hooks into the power supply. One tug on the camera ripped the two apart and whoever tore it down disabled the camera."

She turned to the three, round lenses on the front of the camera and found them cracked. "It's broken."

"Yeah." He clicked the mouse. "And, if you give me a few seconds, we'll have a picture of who is responsible. You do record twenty-four hours, right?"

She nodded and realized he couldn't see her. "Yes."

Dread filled her. The thump she'd heard earlier was probably the person who broke her camera. Damn. She should've been more aware. If she'd been braver and fully rested, she would've caught the person. It was daylight out. There was nothing to be scared of when she was armed. She knew not to show weakness in front of criminals. Her confidence and authority as a bondswoman taught her everything she needed to confront someone with no moral ethics.

"Got it," said Chuck. "Look at this, sweetheart."

She leaned over his shoulder again, her breasts brushed his back, and she would've pulled away, but she leaned against him at the sight of the two men she'd captured on camera twice before. Both men stared up at the camera and then one of the men disappeared off the screen and returned thirty seconds later carrying a shovel.

Then, the screen went black.

"It's the same men," she whispered, a shudder running down her spine. "I was here. I heard something, and I didn't—"

"We need to talk." He turned off the screen.

She straightened and rocked back on the heels of her sneakers. "I should've called you."

"Don't say anymore." He cupped her cheek. "Run up and get what you need. Put it in a small bag or a backpack you can wear."

"Most of my clothes are at my house." She leaned against his touch. "I want to get out of here. I need...to think."

"Let's go." He looked down at her hands. "Keys?"

She lifted her purse. Nothing ever happened in a manner which she could think about how she'd react or solve the problem. She couldn't stay at home and wasn't afraid to admit the thought of being by herself without security cameras scared her to death. Not knowing why Rachel was taken, she could be next. Then, who would help her sister?

Outside on the sidewalk, Chuck guided her to his motorcycle. "I hope like hell you're not scared to ride a Harley."

"I..." She stopped beside the motorcycle which seemed bigger and heavier than she'd imagined. "Just tell me what to do."

He put a helmet on her head, latched the strap, and said, "Get on behind me, put your feet on the pegs, wrap your arms around my waist, and don't let go."

"Don't let go," she repeated.

He gazed up and down the street and then straddled the motorcycle, flipping the pegs down on the bike. She put her foot on the small ledge and realized her mistake. Switching feet, she stepped up and swung her other leg over the seat and plopped down behind him. She scooted closer, feeling like one small bump in the road would knock her off the bike.

Chuck patted her hands clasped against his flat stomach. "Hold on, sweetheart."

Unprepared for the level of noise when he started the bike, she raised her shoulders to the bottom of the helmet and buried her face into his leather vest. Then, the motorcycle moved, and she closed her eyes. If she was going to die, she wanted no warning.

The ride took forever, even though when the motion stopped, the engine quieted, and she opened her eyes and pulled her head off Chuck, she recognized the street. She lived around the corner, only three minutes from her business.

"You can slide off," said Chuck, remaining on the motorcycle.

She took her foot off the peg and swung it back and forth in the air. The ground was underneath her somewhere. Leaning to the left, she let her body slide off the seat until she was touching solid ground, and hopped, pulling her other leg off the motorcycle.

Chuck put down the kickstand and fluidly stood. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. The helmet shifted forward, falling down to her eyebrows. Chuck unlatched the strap and removed it from her head. The familiar area only made the urge to go home and curl up in her bed more enticing.

"Yeah, I survived." She tried to smile, knowing it wasn't his fault she was stressed and afraid.

"Let's get you inside where we can talk." He guided her to the front door.

She peered at his house. Everything was exactly like hers, except she chose the Bayou Water house color and he'd gone with Mossy Wildland. Both brown in their own right, only a different shade.

She stepped inside the house knowing exactly which room was his upstairs, where the kitchen was located, and that his washer was on the left and the dryer on the right in his laundry room off the kitchen. But, everything he owned was different.

The only pieces of furniture Chuck had in his living room was a rust colored floral couch straight out of the eighties, a recliner, two matching end tables with a coffee table in the middle of the room. She looked into the open dining room. A weight-set and bench along with one of those Chuck Norris machines sat where a table belonged, and a cardboard table with four chairs sat nearer the kitchen. The only knickknacks or decorations he had in the two rooms were several Rubbermaid baskets filled with clothes. Unfolded clothes. They could be dirty or clue, she couldn't tell.

She glanced at his left hand again. He definitely wasn't married, so she'd been right, and he wasn't just a man who refused to wear a ring. She could also conclude he had no girlfriend living with him because there was no way a woman wouldn't try to put her stamp on the contents of his house.

"Go ahead and sit down," he said, not looking up from the phone he was texting on.

She took off her purse, sat, and held her bag on her lap. Asking Notus Motorcycle Club for help never prepared her to be at their command and yet she was comforted by having someone with her. Alone, she never would've known that the camera in the back of the building was broken. She would've called the security company and had them come out, which would've taken at least a week. She didn't have that much time.

Chuck set his phone on the arm of the couch and sat beside her. "When I called you, I wanted to talk to you away from your building. I found out who the two men are and I suspect if we look closer, they've bugged the place considering you said they got inside to threaten you."

"What?" She exhaled loudly. "People really do that?"

He nodded.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Jerry Sawyer and Clayton Bruhnell. They work for Teegan Markham." He raised his brows when she remained quiet. "The talk suggests he's the man behind the illegal gambling games that take place at Northern Chinook Springs."

"That connects him to Tony Stoddard," she mumbled. "They're coming after me to find Stoddard, but why would Stoddard take my sister?"

"My first guess would be for insurance." Chuck ran his hand over his scalp. "Stoddard must believe that nothing would happen to him because there's a connection between your sister and Teegan Markham. Markham would want your sister back, and that's apparent by him sending two of his men to find her through you."

She shook her head. "Rachel wouldn't know a man like that."

"Do you know everything about your sister or who she sees?"

The question irritated her. She and Rachel were close. Probably closer than most sisters, because they were the only family members left. They worked beside each other every day and lived a few houses apart.

"Rachel's last boyfriend was an electrician," she blurted. "The only time either one of us have gone to the casino was for my twenty-first birthday. Rachel paid for dinner and drinks and gave me twenty dollars to play slots—something neither one of us had done before. That was fourteen years ago."

"Unless you're with a person twenty-four/seven, you don't know—"

"She's my sister." She stood. "Why can't you understand that. Rachel wouldn't get involved with anything illegal. We grew up seeing criminals go in and out the door, backed by our father's money. We've heard and seen the stories of those guilty and the innocent. She's a good judge of character. God, she's thirty-seven years old, not some delusional young girl that would be easily swayed by a smooth-talking man. She had dreams of buying a second home in Italy and saved all her money. She might not be as invested in being a bondswoman, but she reaches high and wants so much for her life. Rachel would never have a secret relationship with a shady character or compromise her goals. I'd swear on my life."

She paced the living room. If she stood staring at Chuck any longer, she would've fallen to her knees and burst into tears.

"You might have to do that, sweetheart," said Chuck.

Her spine snapped straight. She cocked her head. She would do whatever possible to bring Rachel home.