Page 92 of Out of the Shadows

“She’s hiking out by Tactical,” he said, his voice raw.

Xander shook his head. “Tactical has a group doing firearms training. Wilson said she was heading over to Jackson Cove instead.”

He shot up from the couch. “Let’s go?—”

Xander stepped in front of him and slammed a hand to his chest to stop him.

He sucked in a breath. “I swear to God, Xan, I will fucking lay you out right now.”

“Pull yourself together!” Xander shouted in his face, spithitting him. “You cannot lose your shit now, man. Bean needs you. She needs all of us. So fucking focus.”

Gavin’s chest squeezed painfully, as if someone had reached in and ripped out his insides—lungs, guts, heart. All of it.Holy fuck, this can’t be happening.

He wheezed out a breath and bent over, his hands on his knees.

“She’s everything to me,” he whispered. “I love her so damn much and I’ve never even told her.” Bile rose in his throat at the thought of anything happening to her. “I can’t fucking lose her. I can’t.”

Xander’s hand slapped down on his left shoulder and squeezed. “And you’re not going to, brother. We all love Bean. She’s like everyone’s sister. We know how you feel about her, man. You’ll get the chance to tell her how much you love her. To her face.”

Gavin straightened and sucked in a breath. Fear and rage twisted inside him, leaving his hands trembling. If he had to burn down the goddamn world to bring back Bean in one piece, so be it. But Xander was right. In order to do that, he needed to get his shit together.

He blew out another breath and flexed his hands. He met his friend’s gaze and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Bean means the fucking world to me.”

“I know. But you aren’t going to be any use to her dead. We need a fucking plan. When you’ve got yourself under control, meet us in the conference room and we’ll get to work.”

Gavin glanced around his destroyed office and nodded. “Thanks. Appreciate you, brother.”

Xander lifted his chin. “I’ve always got your back, man. Always.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was gathered in the large conference room with Esme and Tiny on the Smartboard. The door was open, and the cyber team hustled in and out.

Gavin frowned. Abbot was seated in Bean’s usual spot, which was just all kinds of fucking wrong. He paced the length of the room. His mind was in a whirl, and his heart was twisted in a painful knot.

Taking in his colleagues, the tension in the room was thick. He took a moment to calm himself down.Keep your shit together, dammit. “What do we know?”

“Constance and her bodyguard are still in the resort’s dining room,” Abbot said. “Bean’s phone is turned off, but it last pinged at Jackson Cove State Park. The tracker on her phone showed her off trail about a quarter mile in.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “Deputy Chase is standing watch at the resort and will detain Whitcomb the moment she starts driving. I’ve updated him on the situation and that—” He frowned when his phone rang. After answering, he remained silent as he listened to the person on the other end, his frown deepening.

Gavin’s gut rolled. Something was wrong.

“Fucking hell, Chase,” Quinn growled. “Donotlet Constance Whitcomb out of your sight. I’m on my way.” He disconnected his call and looked at Gavin with fury in his eyes. “One of the guests in the dining room had an allergic reaction. Chase confirmed it was Whitcomb’s bodyguard. The EMTs just got there, so he’s not sure what the bodyguard’s status is.” He headed to the conference room door. “I’ll update you when I find out more.” He turned and met Gavin’s gaze. “Call me if you need extra manpower or people to help search. Whatever you need, Frazier.”

He lifted his chin. “Thanks, man. I will.”

A second after Quinn left, Wilson and Buchanan entered and quietly took seats at the table.

Gavin blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. Holy. Fuck. “What else do we know, people?”

“The call you got came from a burner phone,” Abbot said with a frown. “However, it pinged last near Jackson Cove. The same as Bean’s did. Unfortunately, there’s no tracker on his phone, so we can’t get a more exact location than that.”

“I might have something!” Oliphant called out from his workstation outside the conference room. He rushed in with his laptop in his hands and took a seat at the table. His fingers flew over his keyboard, and within seconds, his laptop screen was on the Smartboard. It showed video surveillance from a ferry. “I was going over the frame-by-frame analysis of the Constance Whitcomb footage and here”—he paused the video—“she talks briefly to the person in the coffee line behind her. And if you zoom in on his face...”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed at the grainy image. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. “Is that...”

“Branson Whitcomb,” Oliphant answered.

Holy motherfucking shit.

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