Page 107 of The Dark Before Light

A sharp pain zigzags through my chest. Bradley Mills is who did the anonymous interview and outed Talia as a dominatrix. If he did take her—and her kidnapping isn’t directly related to me—then it’s still my fault. I was the one who shattered his anonymity. My lawyers showed up at his home last week to threaten a defamation lawsuit. Apparently, his wife was there. I probably ruined his marriage. Sent him off the edge.

“This isn’t your fault,” Sven says.

“Appreciate the effort, but any way you slice it, I’m holding the knife.”

“What do you need right now?” he asks softly.

A volcano of rage erupts inside me, abolishing the iceberg on my chest. “I need answers!” I roar. “Where was Crossroads’s security team? Who the fuck is the dead man? And where the fuck is Talia?”

Someone clears their throat behind us. Sven and I swivel to face Tom Bronson, head of Bronson Investigations. Mid-fifties, with short, steel-gray hair and eyes so dark they look black, he resembles a blade—slim, sharp, and lethal. Six more men are inside the house behind him, four of them setting up laptops on my dining table.

Tom nods in greeting. “The abduction took less than a minute. Crossroads’s security arrived seven seconds too late, but as they don’t carry guns, I’m not convinced they could have prevented our current situation. They also saved your man’s life and likely saved your other man’s leg.”

“And the dead man?” asks Sven.

“Harvey Elrod. Rap sheet a mile long. Cell records have him communicating with a blocked number via text message. He was hired two days ago to abduct Dr. Stirling and deliver her to an address?—”

“Address?” I snap, as Sven demands, “You have a location?”

Tom shakes his head. “No. The address was to be conveyed after a successful retrieval. We assume it was given to Mills. Unlike Elrod, he seems to have been smart enough to trade his personal cell for a burner. That’s assuming he’s not the person who hired Elrod.”

His utterly emotionless voice makes me want to tear him apart with my bare hands. Sven’s fingers curl around my shoulder and clench.

Tom’s eyes narrow on me. “I’m not going to sugarcoat things, Mr. Hayes. At this point, they’re in the wind. No data yet on the getaway vehicle. We’ll keep digging into Mills—his cell records, emails, movements over the last week. We’re also looking at footage from Dr. Stirling’s home to possibly match him to a different car. I hate to say it, but right now the best-case scenario?—”

My harsh bark of laughter cuts him off. “The best-case scenario is that this is about me and we’ll get a blackmail call.”

Tom nods.

I drag my fingers through my hair, squeezing until I feel the pain at the roots. The thought of Talia in that man’s hands is too much. My fault. My fault. Anxiety curls fists around my lungs, cutting off my air. My vision sparkles.

Sven says abruptly, “Talia doesn’t like Oliver.”

Shock pulls me back from a full-blown panic attack. “What?”

“Gabe told me Oliver cornered her when she was at breakfast with a friend last weekend. Basically propositioned her. He also said something about you being in the Maldives, possibly a sloppy attempt to find out if she knew why you were really in Ireland. Which means he’s known or suspected that you don’t go just to visit family.” He pauses. “Talia also said he makes her skin crawl.”

“The fuck?” I whisper.

“This is Oliver McCann we’re talking about?” asks Tom.

“Yes,” Sven answers, still looking at me. “He’s the only one who reacted badly to the news of the trials.”

My ears hum as my mind begins to race, burning off the fogginess of panic and dread. I grab Sven by the front of his shirt. “It’s him. That motherfucker. Give me my car keys.”

“Not happening,” he rumbles.

Tom strides into the house, barking orders to his men. “Get me the current location of Oliver McCann. All known numbers, addresses, and vehicles. Now.”

There’s a flurry of activity around the dining table.

“Kier!” someone shouts.

Alistair jogs toward me, expression distraught. Gail hurries behind him, pale-faced and trailed by Dylan and two other protection officers.

My brother reaches me and grabs my shoulders. “What can I do?”

“Give me your car keys.”

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