“You’ve got that sexy lumberjack look about you.” So much for the plain clothes.

Finn takes his beer, shifting a little uneasily on his feet. “Amazing what a beard can do.”

It’s a clever answer that doesn’t give her any information about us. I turn to scan the bar, hoping she’ll get the hint and move on. I don’t see Carter anywhere, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here.

A blonde in a black dress that’s more like a second skin sways past, letting her hand trail over Finn’s arm. She’s at least forty, so she’s almost old enough to be Finn’s momma. The older ones always have a soft spot for Finn, like they want to mother himandfuck him.

“Hey baby,” she says. “You looking for some fun?”

“Not tonight.” Finn shoots her a wide smile. “But maybe some other time.”

She smiles, but it falters quickly, like she realizes that he’s probably not being honest. We both watch her walk away, her ass jiggling with every step. Maybe if we didn’t have Skye at home, she might have been worth a try. But there isn’t a woman in here that measures up to our woman in any way.

“Hey, West. Is that him?” Finn nods towards a door behind the bar. I turn very slowly, only shooting a fleeting glance in that direction.

Carter Reynolds laughs loudly, sending a shiver of unease up my spine. “Yes.”

“There’s a woman with him.”

“What does she look like?”

“She looks like him. Do you think it’s his sister?”

I don’t look because I don’t want to draw attention to us. “It could be. Does she have a baby with her?”

“Hang on.” Finn walks around me, making his way down the bar. I watch as he finds a paper towel and returns. He fake-blows his nose, balls up the tissue, and puts it in his pocket. “There’s a baby in a stroller out the back.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It’s sleeping through this racket.”

“It has to be Hallie.” My heart picks up speed, and my neck prickles. We’re so close to Skye’s stolen child. So close but so far away at the same time.

This is Carter’s playground. We’re not going to get away with making any moves here. We’ll have to find another way to separate that sweet child from this fucked up environment.

“Can you get a picture?” I ask Finn.

“Maybe.” He waits until the barwoman is further down the bar, and he follows her to order two more beers. While she’s pulling them from the freezer, he holds his phone up, pretending to look at something, using his fingers to mimic swiping as he takes a cover picture. I have no idea if it will be good enough for Skye to see her daughter, but at least he tried.

The second beer slides down as easily as the first. It’s been a long and hard week, and I’m grateful for the alcohol and the way it takes the edge off my unease.

“I got some pictures. Shall I send them to Jack now?”

“Do it in the car,” I instruct.

Finn nods, shoving his phone into his front pocket. “There are too many people here. Too many obstacles to getting her out.” He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than me. Is he seriously contemplating kidnapping a child in a bar filled with Carter’s minions? That is not going to happen, as much as we’d love to make Skye’s wish come true.

“There will be another time and place.”

“I hope so.”

We both watch the black dress woman drape herself all over another young man. She’s a cougar, all right.

“This place really is a shithole, isn’t it?” I rest my empty bottle down on the bar and wipe the condensation that has dampened my palm on my jeans.

“Sure is.”

“Shall we get out of here?”