Chapter 1 - NOBODY STEALS MY TWO MILLION
Arizona sunlight had a way of making everything look brutal.
The highway shimmered like it was melting. Wind scraped dust over the asphalt in long, restless sheets. Heat climbed off the hood of Cole Mercer’s black sedan while the engine purred with the same cold control its driver preferred.
Cole liked roads like this.
Empty.
Blinding.
Forgettable.
He had driven three hours without seeing anything worth slowing down for.
Then he saw the girl.
At first, she looked like a mirage—small and staggering through the glare, barefoot on the gravel shoulder, one hand raised, the other hooked around a red backpack strapped across her chest. Her hair was filthy and windblown. Her dress was caked in dust. She looked about eleven, maybe younger in that moment because terror had hollowed her face.
Then she ran directly into the roadside and threw both arms up.
“PLEASE! STOP!”
Cole slammed on the brakes.
The car skidded sideways in a spray of gravel and dust.
Inside the red backpack, a baby started crying—thin, weak, desperate.
The girl nearly collapsed against the passenger-side door.
“PLEASE HELP MY BABY!”
Cole’s hands stayed on the wheel for half a second too long.
He stared at her.
Professional reflex ran through him fast—setup, distraction, ambush, bait.
But she was shaking too hard for theater.
He shoved the door open and stepped out into the killing heat.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
The girl grabbed the front of his jacket with both hands. Her fingers were filthy and trembling so violently he could feel every desperate tremor through the fabric.
“Please!” she sobbed. “Mommy told us to run!”
The baby cried harder.
Cole looked down at the red backpack and saw a tiny face inside, flushed and exhausted beneath the sunshade flap. The infant couldn’t have been more than six months old.
Then something slipped from the girl’s pocket.
A photograph.
It fluttered once, landed face-up by his shoe, and tried to blow away in the desert wind.
Cole bent down and snatched it before it could tumble under the car.
He froze.
The photograph showed the girl standing beside a woman in her thirties with sharp cheekbones, pale eyes, and dark hair pulled back from her face. The baby in the red backpack was in the woman’s arms. All three were smiling.
Cole knew the woman instantly.
Rachel Morgan.
His $2 million target.
For one second, the noise of the highway and the wind disappeared. All he could hear was his own pulse.
He looked from the photograph to the girl.
Then he pulled out his phone.
The bounty file was still open from earlier that morning: a clean surveillance still of Rachel Morgan, age thirty-five, wanted alive if possible but dead if necessary by men who did not usually repeat themselves.
The face on the phone was the same face in the photograph.
Cole stared at the girl.
“No fucking way…”
Her eyes were wild with fear.
He held up the photograph.
“That’s your mother?!”
She nodded so hard it looked painful.
“Yes! Please, you have to help us!”
Cole looked back at the phone.
Then at the bounty amount.
$2,000,000.
His expression changed.
Shock gave way to something colder, hungrier.
“Two million…” he whispered.
The wind shifted.
Then the roar of engines tore through the desert behind them.
The girl—Emma—turned first.
Her whole body locked.
Three black SUVs exploded through a cloud of dust in the distance, closing fast.
Emma screamed.
“THEY’RE COMING!”
Cole’s head snapped around.
He saw the vehicles immediately—heavy suspension, dark windows, aggressive speed. Not local police. Not worried parents. Hunters.
Which meant he wasn’t the only one looking for Rachel Morgan.
One SUV fishtailed onto the highway shoulder and straightened.
They were coming straight for them.
Cole’s greed turned instant and violent.
If those men got to Rachel before he did, his $2 million disappeared.
He grabbed Emma by the waist and lifted her off the ground.
She screamed in confusion.
He snatched the red backpack with the crying baby still inside and dragged both children toward the passenger side.
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?!” Emma cried.
He yanked the rear door open.
“MOVE!”
He shoved Emma into the back seat and set the backpack beside her as carefully as speed allowed. The baby wailed. Emma threw both arms around the red pack and curled around her brother protectively.
Dust thundered closer.
Cole jumped behind the wheel just as the first SUV tore onto the road behind him.
He slammed the accelerator.
The sedan roared forward, tires screaming before biting into the highway.
The SUVs surged after him.
Emma twisted around, white-faced with panic, clutching her brother.
Cole checked the mirror once and saw all three black vehicles charging through the dust.
His jaw locked.
His eyes burned.
He shoved the accelerator even harder and snarled:
May you like
“NOBODY STEALS MY TWO MILLION!”
The chase exploded down the desert highway.
