Free Special Forces Father by Mallory Kane

hesitation. “Hang on. Dad, I need to take this call. Be right back.” Then a few seconds later, “Okay, I can talk now. What’s up?” He soundedcurious, but also crisp and professional, like his wife had.
    Travis wanted to ask about Juliana and about Dawson’s dad, but family stuff could wait. Kate’s son—his son—was missing, and that was the most important thing right now. “I need your help, Dawson. Can we meet somewhere?”
    “Where are you? Oh, you’re calling on a New Orleans exchange. When did you get back?”
    “Dawson, nobodycan know I’m here. Not yet. I need to meet with you somewhere where nobody will know me. I need your help.”
    “Sure,” Dawson said. “We’ve got an apartment in the French Quarter.” He gave Travis the address and told him he could be there within an hour. “Depending on how traffic is on the causeway,” he amended.
    “How many Delanceys know about this apartment?” Travis asked.
    “None,” Dawsonassured him. “Well, your brother Lucas did once, but he’s probably forgotten all about it by now. He borrowed it from me when he first came back here from Dallas. And truthfully, it’s not so much an apartment as it is a warehouse.”
    Travis was racking up the questions. He’d store this latest one—what was Lucas doing back in New Orleans when he swore he’d never return—with all the others untilhe had the luxury of time to catch up, which he didn’t right now. “Should I wait in my car?” he asked.
    “Nope,” Dawson said. He gave Travis the combination to a mailbox on the outside of the building. “The key’s inside the mailbox. Go to the fourth floor. It’s the only door. Wait for me inside.”
    Travis drove to the address Dawson had given him and followed his instructions. He agreedwith Dawson’s assertion that apartment was not the right word for the large room that appeared to take up the entire top floor of the building. It had a bathroom and an alcove with a double bed that was separated from the rest of the room by a heavy curtain, and it was air-conditioned. The kitchen, however, consisted of nothing but a microwave and a mini-fridge on a countertop.
    Travis turnedon the AC and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. He sat down in a chair to wait for Dawson.
    He’d barely finished the water when Kate’s phone rang. The sound startled him and he dropped the plastic bottle. He cursed his damn jumpiness as he checked the display. The number was her office phone. He could picture her, fuming, ready to rip into him for sneaking her cell phone out of herpurse. He hesitated, looking at the display, his finger hovering over the answer button. Then he shook his head. He didn’t want to talk to her yet, and certainly not over the phone.
    She’d probably get back to her house before he did, and find him gone. If she was fuming now, he didn’t want to think about what she’d be like when he walked in tonight. He closed the phone. She’d have to wait.He needed to get Dawson on the trail of whoever had taken Max. That was the most important thing. He’d face her later. Hopefully he could show some results that would prove that he’d done the right thing in contacting Dawson. At the same instant that Kate’s call went to voice mail, he heard footsteps on the stairs. There was a double rap on the door.
    “Trav?” Dawson’s voice came through thedoor. Then he heard a key turn in the lock and Dawson burst in, carrying a paper bag that he set on the bookcase just inside the door.
    Travis couldn’t help but grin when he saw his cousin. “Dawson,” he said and stepped forward. The two men performed the basic man-hug—quick hand clasp and touch of shoulders, lightning-speed pat on back, then return to their corners. Dawson held on to Travis’shand for one extra split second, though, and assessed him. “You don’t look so good, partner,” he said, frowning. “What’s the deal? Everything okay with you?”
    Outside a car backfired. Travis