None of it did.

The US government had already leveraged her family against her once, but Alex was desperate. Too desperate to realise she was in too deep.

Adding to the anxiety, Sam didn’t know when or where anything was happening. If he was going to help her, he would need to do it off the cuff. He had no weapon, and right now, no means of transport. Judging from the wailing sirens that echoed through the sky as he’d raced through the woods, the police were crawling all over his motel. His car would undoubtedly be impounded, a useless attempt to lure him out.

He finished his beer and asked for a food menu, which the owner handed to him with a tongue-in-cheek comment about his bravery. Sam needed to eat, and he’d decided that hunkering down in a corner booth hidden from the town would be a good place to lie low and formulate anything resembling a plan.

As he took a second beer and the menu across the bar to the booth, the door to the bar opened.

‘Everyone out.’

Sam stopped and sighed in annoyance. He tossed the menu onto the table and turned towards the entrance. Joe Alan had his eyes locked on Sam, ignoring the few patrons who slid past his considerable frame and out of the door. The owner tried to remonstrate, but Alan lifted his badge, cutting him off.

‘Stay or run, Sam,’ Alan said, removing his jacket and unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, his intentions clear. ‘Makes no difference to me.’

‘I take it you’re not in the mood to listen?’ Sam asked, shooting an apologetic glance to the bar owner as the man slipped away and disappeared to the back. Alan didn’t respond to his question. He finished rolling his sleeves up and then headed straight for Sam.

The time for talking was over.

Chapter Sixteen

Watching Alan rolling up the sleeves of his shirt filled Sam with apprehension. Throughout his fight against organised crime, he’d tried his hardest to make sure his skills were targeted at those who deserved it.

Drug lords

Sex traffickers.

Murderers.

Sure, there had been the odd scuffle with the law, but it was usually once he’d snuffed out those who were on the take. The only regrettable altercation had been at Etheridge’s house, where his desperation to find Jasmine Hill fuelled him to open fire on an armed response unit. Shedding the blood of honest, good men was never his intention, but the ends justified the means.

He saved Jasmine Hill from a fate worse than death.

Besides, he’d aimed for their legs.

The same ill feeling sat heavy in stomach at the inevitable fight with Alan. Despite the man’s lack of manners, he was a former marine and an upstanding agent. What made Sam so uneasy was the gut feeling that was wrestling for space in his stomach alongside his apprehension.