Page 20

CHAPTER 20

KNOX

“I still haven’t heard back from her.”

I stare at the tracking app, watching Lark’s tiny dot as it sits at her office building, silently willing her to get back to me. For her name to pop onto the screen, calling to let me know she’s safe. That she’s securely locked in her office, waiting for me. “It’s been more than five minutes since I texted her. She should have called me by now.”

Ronan glances over at me. “Five minutes isn’t that long, Knox. She’s probably contacting her dad to warn him. I’m sure she’s fine.”

My jaw clenches, sending jolts of pain down my neck. “It’s been seven minutes.” The fear I’ve been trying to tamp down resurges, stealing my breath. “Fuck, Ronan. She was in her office with him. What if he?—”

The truck accelerates, the speedometer now topping seventy. “Her tracker hasn’t moved, has it?”

“No. It hasn’t. ”

As we speed around a slow-moving sedan, crossing onto the other side of the road and back again, Ronan asks, “Do you think we should alert security at her office? Have them get Harrison someplace secure?”

“I don’t know. It could tip him off. If he feels like he’s cornered, and we don’t know if he’s still with Lark…”

Although. What if Ed decides to make a run for it? What if he leaves Lark’s office and gets to her father before she can warn him? What her dad gets hurt because of my inaction?

Fuck. Why is it so hard to make a decision?

“I’ll call them,” I announce. “Tell them to keep things low key. Make an excuse to get Ed on his own. Something about his ID badge or something.”

“Good idea,” Ronan replies, sounding enviably confident. “And I’m sure Lark will call you any second. She’s just being careful, but?—”

“Fuck!”

The car swerves. “Shit. What is it?”

My lungs seize. “Her tracker. It’s moving.”

“What?”

“She’s moving,” I choke out through a narrowing throat. “Lark’s tracker. I don’t know where she’s going, but she’s on the move.”

The calm tone in Ronan’s voice goes tight. “Shit.” He pauses. “Could she be going to her father’s office?”

“I told her not to.” My knuckles go white around my phone. “She wouldn’t. Not with this. I know she wouldn’t.” Eyeing the speedometer, I grit out, “Go faster.”

“Don’t panic,” he replies. “There’s no reason to think?— ”

A blaring alarm blasts from my phone.

My heart stops.

On the screen, Lark’s little dot goes a violent, flashing red.

For a moment, I can’t speak past the fear. Past the terrified voice in my head saying, you failed her. Lark’s in danger and you’re not there. You promised to protect her. You promised.

The truck speeds up.

“Where is she now?” Ronan asks. Worry seeps into his voice. He knows as well as I do what the alarm means. Knows that something with Ed went terribly wrong.

I force myself to focus. To shove down my burgeoning panic and treat this like a mission. To concentrate on facts and strategy instead of emotion. “Just outside her office building. She’s still moving slowly?—”

No.

“Knox. What is it?”

“She’s in a vehicle. She has to be. Her tracker just sped up. Way beyond walking speed.”

There’s a pause, and then, “Okay. We’ll catch up to her.”

Fuck.

All I can think about is my Lark, my songbird, terrified, possibly hurt…

“Fuck. It has to be Ed.” My voice sounds hollow. Distant. “He figured it out. Forced her to leave. Or he—” My fist flies out, slamming into the dashboard. “Shit, Ronan. What if he hurt her? She wouldn’t just leave with him. ”

“Call Enzo. He’ll get Gage and Alec on it. The police.”

Right. Enzo. The rest of my team.

Shit. I’m a damn mess. And I’m no good to Lark like this.

Drawing in a deep breath, I blow it out slowly. I set my shoulders. Try my best to push aside the fear and concentrate on facts.

Then I call Enzo.

“I just heard her alert go off,” he says the second he picks up the phone. “Where are you?”

Glancing out the window at the scenery flying by, I spot a road sign up ahead. “We just passed the North Cascades trailhead. But—shit, it looks like Lark’s tracker is heading north on County Road out of Montpelier. We need to intercept her.”

There’s a pause before Enzo responds. “Alec’s looking at the map. There are several roads that’ll get you over there. In Worcester, if you take Calais Road, it’s only four miles to Maple Corner. That will put you right on County Road, and you can work your way toward Lark from there.”

“Unless Ed changes course.” A heavy ball of fear lodges itself in my chest. “There are a hundred different ways he could go.”

“Is it possible Lark could be driving? Maybe she’s not with Harrison,” Enzo suggests. “Maybe she’s on the run, trying to get back here.”

I almost break a molar to keep from shouting at him. “Do you really think that?”

“It’s unlikely,” Enzo admits. “I’m just trying to look at every angle. ”

Shit. Of course he is. Just like I’d be if my perspective wasn’t totally fucked.

“Gage is headed your way,” Enzo continues. “I’m getting on the road, too. Alec’s staying at his office so he can monitor our trackers and liaise with the police.”

“I don’t want the police fucking this up,” I snap. “They already screwed up by missing the handwriting thing. Last thing I want is some high-speed chase that ends up with Lark getting killed.”

Unless.

No.

She has to be okay. Her alert just went off… five minutes ago? Lark has to be alright. I’d know if she wasn’t.

Right?

“We’ll get to her,” Ronan says. “If this asshole has her?—”

“He does,” I interject. “You know he does. He must have figured it out while he was in Lark’s office. Panicked.” A crushing wave of guilt slams into me. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t told her it was Ed. You know Lark. She can’t hide anything. She probably got all flustered, and?—”

“Stop.” Enzo’s voice is low and commanding. “There was no way to know Harrison was in her office when you texted. And you have no idea what set him off. What his plan is.”

“The man who hired someone to have Lark killed? I have a pretty fucking good idea what his plan is.”

Shit.

I can’t even think it.

Focus .

“Wait. He’s slowing down.” My eyes are glued to the moving dot on my phone. “Shit. What if he—” Focus . “He pulled into a driveway about ten miles outside Montpelier.”

“We’re still twenty minutes from there,” Ronan replies, his gaze darting to the tiny map on my phone. “If he’s going to—” His mouth clamps shut. His jaw clenches. “I’m going as fast as I can without risking being pulled over.”

Shit. I know what he was about to say.

If Ed is going to do something to Lark right now, there’s nothing we can do.

Fuck.

I’ve never felt this helpless before.

Two terrifying minutes later, Enzo says, “He’s on the move again. Back on County Road headed north.”

“We’re closing in on Worcester.” Ronan glances away from the road to meet my gaze. “When Harrison eventually stops… What weapons do you have on hand?”

“My Sig and Winchester are in a case in the back of the cab. I have a folding Ka-Bar in my pocket and another one in the gun case.”

Ronan gives a quick nod. “Okay. For the two of us, that should work.”

Though I’m loath to take my eyes off Lark’s little dot for a second, I set my phone on the console and reach into the backseat to retrieve the guns. As I’m loading them, Enzo’s voice echoes through the car. “Alec’s looking up Harrison’s known addresses. There’s a house in Montpelier and a small cabin up by Craftsbury.”

“So he could be headed up there,” Ronan says.

Setting the loaded guns on my lap, I look back at the phone. Lark’s little dot is still on the move, but we’re closing in on it. “He’s driving cautiously,” I comment. “He can’t be going more than fifty-five, sixty.”

Enzo says, “Hang on. I’m adding Alec to the call.”

Several seconds later, Alec’s voice comes over the line. “Okay. Harrison is traveling at a steady fifty-five. Doesn’t want to get pulled over, I’m sure.”

“So we’ve made up some time. But what do we do when we catch him? Do we wait for him to pull over? Or try something to get him to stop?”

“We could try a pit maneuver,” Ronan suggests. “It’s been a while, but I can do one.”

“It might be safer to hang back, let him stop on his own,” I say slowly, thinking it through. “Once we get close enough, stay a quarter mile behind him, just close enough to catch up when he stops.”

But what will we find?

Will Lark be restrained, but unharmed? Will she be injured? Unconscious? Drugged? Or?—

Fuck.

“She has to be okay,” I mutter. “She has to be.”

“I thought the worst when Winter was missing,” Enzo says. “But she was okay. And Lark’s smart. Strong. Let’s not assume the worst. Okay?”

I know he understands. I do. But it’s hard to accept his reassurances. It’s hard to put aside the fear rampaging through me, clawing and tearing. It’s hard to ignore the gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

Please. Let Lark be okay.

We have so much to look forward to. Christmas. New Year’s. Trips. A proposal. A wedding. A family. A lifetime together, if she’ll agree.

I just want her back. Please.

“Wait.” I grab the phone from the console. “He’s turning. In Woodbury. He’s making a right on Cabot Road.”

“We’re only five minutes behind.” Ronan’s hands tighten on the wheel. “At this speed, we’ll be in sight of him in a few minutes.”

“What’s out that way?” I ask as I scan the tiny map on the screen.

A beat later, Enzo responds, “A quarry. Some camps. Ponds. But it’s basically uninhabited.”

The kind of place someone would go to dispose of a body.

“I’m going to kill him,” I grit out.

“If it comes to that,” Ronan agrees.

“Just hang back.” Enzo pauses. “Okay. Alec’s scoping out potential places where Harrison might stop.”

My eyes are following the moving tracker. “He just turned onto Town Highway 15. It dead-ends in about a mile and a half.” Terror wraps around my chest and squeezes. “He’s taking her there to… shit.” I turn to Ronan. “How close are we to them?”

“Half a mile.” Ronan turns left onto a narrow dirt road. “This is the road.”

Oh, please. Let my songbird still be alive.

“I’m still ten minutes out,” Enzo says apologetically. “I’m driving as fast as I can.”

“It’s okay.” Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for battle. My emotions have no place here. It’s all focus and determination and strategy. It’s neutralizing the threat and rescuing Lark.

I can’t think about anything past that.

“When he stops, we pull off the road just out of sight,” I tell Ronan. “I’ll take the Winchester. You take my Sig.”

Ronan lifts his chin. “Got it. How do you want to approach?”

On the bumpy road, we’re forced to slow to half our speed, and on my phone, I notice Ed has done the same. At my best guess, we have about four minutes at max until we hit the end of the road, unless Ed decides to stop sooner.

“I’ll confront him. As soon as he gets out of the car.” I release my seatbelt, ready to move. “Maybe I’ll just shoot him right away.”

Ronan reaches his hand out for the Sig while steering with the other. “It’s probably better if you give him the chance to surrender first. If he just gives up, that would be ideal.”

“For him , maybe.” My voice dips dangerously. “Personally, I think shooting him first would be just fine.”

His lips curve up. “Well. It’s up to you.”

My own lips twitch. “I guess I’ll decide once we’re there.” After a beat, I add, “As soon as I engage, you move along the treeline to flank him. I should be able to hit him from a good distance, but if there’s any chance of him trying anything…”

“Got it.”

“We take him down, get him away from the car, and get Lark. She’s probably in the trunk—” Rage flares. “So I want her out right away. And if she’s injured?— ”

“I know.” His jaw sets. “We’re almost there. He’s just about at the end of the road.”

Almost time.

All my muscles tense.

I visualize the next few minutes on fast-forward. Stopping the car. Moving silently toward Ed. Ordering him to freeze. Or alternatively, just shooting him. And then— oh, please —finding my songbird alive and unharmed.

“Pulling over,” Ronan says quietly. “He’s just stopping.”

The second the truck stops moving, we both hop out, leaving the doors open.

My pulse leaps, but I command it to settle.

My gun at the ready, I run down the dirt road, my footsteps muffled by a thin layer of half-melted snow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ronan dart toward the trees and disappear within them.

Up ahead, a car door slams shut. Then a man’s voice curses softly. “Fucking snow. Ruining my new shoes. If’d known I was going to be tramping through the damn snow today…”

Cool determination seeps into my veins.

I’m not a terrified boyfriend right now. I’m a soldier. A weapon. A man who will stop at nothing to accomplish his mission.

“Now I have to go into the fucking woods,” the man—Ed, I presume—gripes. “If that fucking Vinnetti had gotten it right, none of this?—”

There.

I have him in view.

Silver-haired, pot-bellied, dressed in a tailored jacket and pants; he looks nothing like the murderous bastard I know he is. He looks unassuming. Bland. Harmless.

But I know the truth.

Leveling my rifle at him, I snarl, “Don’t fucking move.”

He jerks around, his feet skidding in the snow.

“Don’t move,” I repeat. “You can make this easy for yourself.”

For a second, he does as I say, and I’m actually disappointed I won’t get to shoot him.

“No,” he chokes out. “How?”

I take several steps toward him, my rifle still steady. “Move away from the car. Now .”

A whisper of movement rustles through the trees, no more than a gentle breeze.

My finger tightens on the trigger.

“This is your last chance.” Advancing another few feet, I’m close enough to see the panic in his eyes. And a moment later, the crazed determination.

He’s not going to give up that easily.

“No!” he shouts. “I won’t! And you won’t do anything! Because if you do, I’ll kill her!”

My mind locks onto one thing.

She’s not dead.

Thank fuck.

Then, in an exceedingly stupid move, Ed reaches into his pocket. At the same time, he shuffles backward toward the trunk of the car.

“I’ll kill her!” he screeches. “If you don’t put the gun down, I’ll kill her!” He yanks a small handgun out of his pocket. “I’ll shoot her! I’ll?—”

“No.” It’s deadly. Rage burns in my gaze. “You will not hurt her again. ”

And I fire.

It’s a simple shot, even though he’s moving.

I never knew all the years of practice would lead to this.

I’ve never been more thankful for all my training.

The shot strikes true, and Ed lets out an ear-splitting shriek. He claps his free hand to his shoulder as his gun falls uselessly to the ground.

Before I can take another step, Ronan flies from the trees and leaps on Ed, pinning him.

Ed screams, “Ahhhh! You shot me! You shot me!”

Shouldering my rifle, I sprint the rest of the way to the car. As I pass by the man who tried to kill my girlfriend, I lean down and get right in his face. “You’re lucky I didn’t fucking kill you.”

Ronan’s already zip tying Ed’s feet and hands together, pausing to look up at me with a grim smile. “At least this way you won’t have to talk to the police as long.”

True. But right now, my only concern is Lark.

I lunge at the car and pull open the driver’s side door, reaching inside and grabbing the trunk release. The trunk pops open, and I race around to it, bracing myself for whatever condition Lark might be in.

Please. Let her be okay.

In the moment before I get the trunk fully open, a flurry of possibilities fill my head.

Lark, tied up and scared, but unharmed. Lark hurt, bruised and bloody, but still okay. Or Lark unconscious, possibly drugged.

And the worst. My Lark, terribly injured. She could have been shot. Could be bleeding out. She could be on the brink of death.

Then I lift the trunk lid and look inside.

Oh.

Shit.

My legs almost collapse in relief.

My Lark. My songbird. Tied up, but looking up at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes.

“Knox!” Fresh tears spill down her already-wet cheeks. “I knew you’d come.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” My own eyes burn. “I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

I reach into the trunk, gathering her into my arms. Her ankles are zip tied together, and her wrists are bound behind her back. Cradling Lark to my chest, I kiss her forehead, swallowing hard against threatening tears. “Just hang on. I’ll get you untied. And we’ll get you to the hospital?—”

“I’m okay. But… who has Ed?” Lark cranes her head to look over my shoulder, and that’s when I see it.

Blood.

My stomach drops. Icy fear clutches my heart.

Backing away from the trunk, I shout to Ronan, “Lark’s hurt! Head injury. I need you!”

“I’m okay,” Lark says quietly. “I was only knocked out for a few minutes, I think.”

“A few minutes?”

Fuck. She was knocked out? Her head is bleeding?

Ronan jogs over to me, worry in his gaze. He immediately spots the blood on the side of Lark’s head, just above her ear. In a gentle tone, he says, “Hey Lark. Looks like you got a pretty nasty whack here. I’m just going to check it out, okay?”

Lark jerks her head away from him. “No. Ed.” Her voice rises. “Where is he? Don’t let him… he has a gun…”

“It’s okay,” Ronan soothes. “Harrison is tied up. He’s not going anywhere.”

“But…” She starts shaking as shock sets in. “He has a gun.”

“I know, sweetheart.” I press a soft kiss to her forehead as I hug her closer to me. Turning slightly, I gesture with my chin at Ed, who’s flopping around on the snow like an upside down turtle, blood soaking through his jacket, still screeching about how I shot him. “See? He’s not going anywhere, like Ronan said.”

Ronan pulls off his jacket and drapes it over Lark. “Just to help you warm a little, okay? And I want to see this bump you have. Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?”

Lark’s gaze bounces from me to Ronan and back again. Her voice is achingly small as she asks, “Is it over? He said… he paid Vinnetti. It was all Ed. He wanted my job. All of it over a job?—”

“It’s okay,” I croon, kissing the damp streaks on her cheeks. “It’s over. The police are on their way, and Enzo and Gage, too.”

And like I summoned them, an engine comes roaring toward us. Seconds later, Enzo’s SUV comes to a screeching stop right beside us. Gage leaps from the passenger seat, followed by Enzo from the driver’s side.

Enzo takes in the scene and lifts his chin at me. “I’ll go watch Harrison.” As he passes by us, he pats Lark gently on the shoulder, his expression softening as he says, “I’m glad you’re okay. A little banged up, but okay. Winter’s going to be so relieved.”

Gage comes over next, his features stony as he meets my gaze. “I met up with Enzo in Woodbury,” he explains. “But I don’t like being that far from the team when there’s an emergency. When one of us is in trouble. If you’re still willing, I want to move to the GMG property.” Then his voice gentles as he regards Lark. “I’m sorry this happened. But I’m so damn happy to see you.”

Lark stares at him. She sniffs. Then she touches his arm. “I’m glad you’ll be closer to us, Gage.”

“Looks like a concussion,” Ronan reports. “But pupil response is good. And the bleeding has stopped.”

A concussion is still not okay. “I want to get Lark to a hospital. Right away.”

“Go,” Gage says. “We’ll wait for the police.” In the distance, the rise and fall of sirens approaches.

“Okay.” Nodding at Ronan, I head back to my truck.

“So it’s really over?” Lark asks, a wobble in her voice.

Gratitude swells inside me, so big and intense it’s hard to breathe past it.

I didn’t lose her.

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s over.”