Page 61 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
Those three men knew exactly what they were doing. They moved through the dark like ghosts, and they would’ve gotten away with it, too, if the storm hadn’t forced them to act sooner.
I rub the back of my neck, muscles stiff from tension. “Anything new on the van?”
“Stolen,” Beck replies. “From a junkyard in San Antonio. Before they abandoned it, they scrubbed it clean to get rid of all the evidence, which means they had a getaway driver.”
I exhale through my nose because there is not enough to go off on.
“Okay, Jace, what do we know so far?” I mutter to myself.
The three kidnappers are dead.
A van was found abandoned two miles out.
No IDs. No fingerprints. No trail.
But I already know who the trail leads back to. She got home less than ten minutes ago and is now locked away in her room, doing God knows what.
I want something concrete before I confront her, but nothing I have is tangible enough. Besides the name Richard Kane flashing on one of the kidnappers’ phones, there is nothing else. We weren’t able to get anything concrete off their devices before they were collected as evidence by the Sheriff’s department when they came to get the dead bodies earlier.
All we know is that whoever they are, they’ve done this before. This isn’t their first operation; it’s a professional job gone wrong.
Gone wrong because they tried it here.
I should feel relieved that my family’s safe. That Daisy and Tessa were not here when it happened, that Ella’s shaken but alive. But underneath it, there’s this burn. A low, pulsing heat in my chest that won’t let go.
Whatever Tessa is involved in, she’s brought it straight to my doorstep, and I will be damned if I give them a chance to strike again. To hell with evidence. I need answers, and I need them now.
I pull myself up from my wheelchair, my mind made up.
“You’re going to confront her?” Beck asks me as I walk past him.
“We’re getting to the bottom of this tonight,” I grit out, fisting my hands by my sides.
“Be gentle. We have no idea what she’s dealing with,” Zane calls out, but I’m already halfway up the stairs.
It’s hard to do as Zane has asked when I’ve been stewing since last night, but I still force myself to take a few calming breaths. I don’t want to lash out without getting a concrete explanation.
When I stop outside her room, I hear the faint murmur of her voice. At first, I think she’s talking to herself. But when I lean closer, I realize she’s on the phone.
“… he’s coming for me,” she whispers, voice raw.
Every muscle in my body goes still. She’s just confirmed everything I’ve been suspecting. My jaw locks as the rest of the pieces fall into place: the alias when she arrived, the secrecy, the half-truths she’s been feeding me since she showed up.
“He’s really coming,” she cries, and that’s all I need to hear.
I knock once, but she does not respond. All movement ceases inside her room, but she cannot pretend that I didn’t hear what she just said. I know she’s in there, and I need answers. Now!
My fist still on the door, I pound on it again, louder this time. “Open the door, Tessa!”
I hear something drop onto the floor with a soft thud, followed by a faint tone of someone calling her name over and over again.
“Open it,” I repeat, a bit calmer but meaning each word. She cannot stay locked in there forever.
There’s a pause, followed by a rustle of movement, then the sharp click of the lock turning. The door cracks open an inch, and she peers out. Her eyes are swollen, lashes clumped together from crying, shoulders tense like she’s ready to bolt.
“Jace,” she whispers, voice barely there.
I push the door open the rest of the way and step inside. The room smells like lavender detergent and fear. She’s still wearing the T-shirt from the trip, damp from sweat, fingers twisting the hem.
