Page 73 of Abducted

He bit back the response that burned the tip of his tongue. “Can you at least report my truck stolen?”

He looked at his watch, nodded, and pulled out a pad and paper. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt to have more eyes out looking for his truck. He asked Cal a few more questions about the break-in, then left.

Cal couldn’t bring himself to wait inside. Goddammit. He’d wanted to buy another vehicle many times to keep here, but he had been too busy. It had seemed pointless to buy a second truck when he barely had time to drive the first. But if he had indulged, he wouldn’t be pacing the fucking driveway right now. Another fifteen minutes passed. He pulled Stamos’s phone out of his pocket to dial Ethan. The battery flashed. Almost dead.

Headlights cut down the drive. Thank God.

He jogged down the drive and met Ethan halfway. After climbing in the passenger seat, he dialed Nate on Ethan’s phone.

“Don’t worry, bro, we’ll find her.” Ethan peeled out of the driveway.

Nate answered on the first ring. Cal put him on speaker.

“Take WA-203 South. They’re moving, so that’s a good sign.” Nate’s tone was even, his meaning unspoken. He didn’t have to say the words. If they weren’t moving, that meant they’d stopped. If they had stopped, they would be following through with their intent…to kill Lana.

Cal’s throat clenched until pain shot through his chest. His hands opened and closed on his lap.

Ethan weaved in and out of traffic effortlessly. Minutes stretched, making them seem like hours. He couldn’t take the silence. His heart thumped against his rib cage like a wild beast. When he got a hold of them, they would pay. He would be sure of it. Ethan pulled onto the interstate, thankfully clear of traffic at the hour.

“Are they still on 203?”

“Yup.” Nate’s breath came over the speakers. “Looks as though they’re heading for Mount Tenerife.”

A beat passed. Images flashed through his mind. There were a million and one ways to dispose of a body in the deeply wooded trails and cliffs there. He massaged his temples.

“E, you have to go faster.” His voice shook. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Every muscle in his body tensed.

A cold rivulet tickled his forehead. He wiped it with his sleeve. The inky liquid shone on the gray material of his shirt. Blood. From the bastard who had bashed him on the head with a solid stone candlestick holder. It should have hurt like a bitch, but was only an irritating throb.

Hang on, baby. I’m coming.

Ethan nodded. His foot slammed on the gas. Cal’s head tilted back with the force of it.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke again. “You’re gaining on them nicely.” He took an audible, shuddering breath. “Not sure if this is a good time or not, but I thought I’d tell you guys that I met someone.”

Ethan snorted. “You meet someone every night, dude.”

“Yeah, but I think this is different. It feels different.”

Cal’s eyes rolled skyward. He appreciated Nate’s efforts to distract him, but nothing and no one could intervene in his thoughts. Not now. Not until Lana was safe in his arms.

He licked his lips. They were reaching the outskirts of the city, and with it came the raw, tinny taste of fear to his mouth. He never should have sent her to his truck. Never should have let her out of his sight. He’d been off his guard. Slipups like this didn’t happen to him, and they sure as hell shouldn’t have happened with Lana. She was his Achilles’ heel.

He’d quit his career tonight if it meant getting Lana back safe and sound. He didn’t need the money, he didn’t need the rush, and he sure as hell didn’t need anything but her as long as he lived.

“Nate, where are they?”

“Still moving. Looks as though they’re coming up to the off-ramp to Mount Tenerife. You need to hurry.”

Ethan’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. Horns blared around them. Cal’s vision turned hazy. Clouds shielded the moon, and soft drops of rain landed on the windshield.

“Cal, buddy, you there?” Nate’s voice was low, uneven. So out of character that it made Cal’s skin prickle.

A barely audible response sounded in his throat. His Adam’s apple pierced the thin skin of his neck. The muscles in his face pinched.

“It’s going to be all right. I’ve texted the federal agents who are working on her case. They’re hot on your heels.”

“Stamos and the other thug mentioned an old lady. They said she’d hired them. I don’t have much to go on here, but the only person that comes to mind is Grace Vanderpoel.”

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