Chapter Fourteen

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll find her. We’ll do the drop. We’ll follow his rules, and we will find her.”

Trevor’s soft words surrounded Ollie, but he found no comfort in them. All he could think was that this was his fault. He’d kept drawing her back to him, and then ripping it all down again. And each time this guy must have been getting more and more frustrated. Bitch, you think you can just use me in between? You think I’ll put up with that?

He could practically hear Bobby’s voice in his head. The angry words. The violent temper, hidden under a surface that seemed so even and personable.

He knew the type. For that matter, he’d taken classes on the type when he was in training.

The type was dangerous.

And now Bobby had Courtney.

“Dammit, Ollie, look at me,” Trevor demanded. “We will get her back.”

“All of this,” Ollie said, feeling like he was being sucked into a deep, dark pit. “I can lay it all at my feet. If I hadn’t kept pulling her back—”

“You know better, Agent McKee,” Trevor snapped. “Don’t you even think about going there. This is about his particular psychosis, not about your relationship with Courtney, and you damn well know it. So quit feeling sorry for yourself, Agent. There’s a woman out there who needs your help. You don’t have the luxury of melting down.”

Ollie nodded, Trevor’s words finally pounding through the fear and self-loathing that had washed over him like a tsunami.

“I know. I know. I just—I just need a moment.” He had to pull himself together. Had to shut down the emotions, rely on his training, and do the job.

Trevor reached out to take his hand, but the moment their fingers brushed, Ollie drew back sharply. He couldn’t—not right then. Trevor was his refuge; the place where he could break down and pour out all his fears. All his guilt.

But he didn’t have the luxury of doing that right now, and a single touch could start the boulder downhill, and then he’d never stop. He’d be lost in grief, and that would be no help to Courtney.

No, he had to be professional. He had to concentrate on his training.

He had to do the job.

Slowly, he drew in a breath, then nodded, as much to himself as to Trevor. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready. Go gather the team.”

For a moment, Trevor only looked at him, his expression dark and a little sad. And why wouldn’t it be? They didn’t have the victim safely tucked away and the kidnapper was still on the loose. They were going to have to deliver the ransom, and that was the riskiest maneuver in a kidnapping. Trevor knew that as well as Ollie did.

Not a good situation. But Ollie wasn’t thinking about that. On the contrary, he was determined that he would see Courtney again. And when he did, she’d be alive and unharmed.

“Right,” Trevor said, not quite meeting Ollie’s eyes. “Five minutes. We’ll convene on the driveway.” He glanced around Bobby’s small bungalow. “Better outside. There’s a chance this place is wired.”

“Good thinking,” Ollie said as they moved outside and into the front yard. “In fact, let’s get a team in here to sweep for that. If Bobby is listening in, maybe we can trace it back.”

“On it,” Trevor said, then moved away. This time, he didn’t reach for Ollie, and even though Ollie couldn’t afford the distraction of Trevor’s touch—even though he needed to cling to pure professionalism if he was going to get through this—that simple absence weighed on him.

Outside, the two teams gathered in the driveway, speaking in low voices to avoid being overheard by any of the neighbors.

“We have two hours until the ransom drop,” Trevor said. “Unless anyone else has a better idea, we’re going to move forward as planned. Ollie will take the money in, leave it at the drop site. We’ll have eyes on for as long as it takes, but hopefully he’ll make a move to get the cash within twenty-four hours. According to his instructions, once he’s acquired the cash, he’ll let us know where to find Courtney.”

He glanced around at the group, his eyes skimming over Ollie without even hesitating. “We’ll follow the money, but the hostage is our priority. Questions?”

There were none, and so the group split up, heading back into the Range Rovers to both plan and head to the drop site.

The site itself was a men’s room inside the Sherman Oaks Galleria. They parked a half mile away where a variety of base model cars were parked and ready for them, courtesy of ASAC Horowitz. The team switched from the Range Rovers to the cars, then each driver engaged in some evasive maneuvers before parking at the shopping center.

“You ready?” Trevor asked, his hands tight on the steering wheel, as if he was gluing himself in place.

“Yeah.” Ollie drew a breath. “Yeah, I’ve got this.” He reached over, then pressed his hand to Trevor’s thigh. He wanted to pull him in for a kiss. For support.

But he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to keep himself centered. Right then, he needed absolute focus.

One more breath, then he nodded. “Okay. Keep a close eye. I’m not keen on being taken out by one to the head.” Presumably the kevlar he wore under his shirt would take care of one to the chest, but he wasn’t wearing a kevlar skull cap. Wouldn’t matter anyway. Any self-respecting sniper would get him right between the eyes.

Rambling .

He forced his nerves back down, then opened the door. Trevor reached for him, then squeezed his hand before he could pull away, and he squeezed back, afraid the touch would knock him off his game, but still needing it as much as Trevor did.

“In. Out. Done. You’ve got this,” Trevor said. “You’ll make the drop, we’ll get the address, and Courtney will be fine.”

“And Bobby?”

“We’ve got eyes everywhere,” Trevor reminded him. “We’ll track him down. But priority one is Courtney, and we’re making that happen today. Right?”

“Hell, yes,” Ollie said, then slipped out of the car. He opened the back door, grabbed the bags that Damien had prepped, and headed into the mall.

He couldn’t see any of the team—they were all too damn good—but he knew they were watching. He walked in through one of the main entrances, only to find the place relatively empty. Once a popular destination, it almost seemed abandoned.

Worked out great for the good guys, Ollie thought. Easier to keep eyes on the target.

He found the restroom easily enough then, entered, his stomach in knots since that was the one area in the mall without eyes.

It was completely empty, and he let out a slow sigh of relief.

His instructions were to put the duffels in the handicapped stall, stacked on the toilet. Then lock the door and crawl out of the stall from underneath.

Someone would be along within the hour to collect the ransom, and they’d leave an envelope with the address where Courtney was being held. Any attempt to follow the bag man would be noted, and a call would be made to the appropriate party, who would quickly and efficiently put a bullet in Courtney’s brain.

So, yeah. Ollie was following the rules.

He entered the stall, found that the duffels stacked just fine, and then he locked the door as ordered. He wasn’t particularly keen on crawling on the floor, but he had little choice. So he got down, crawled under, then stood upright again to wash his hands.

And then, with only one last look back at the stall with the ransom, he pulled open the door, headed back the way he came, and exited the mall.

He didn’t stop until he reached the car he’d arrived in. Trevor was gone—well-hidden inside the mall—and it was Ollie’s job to drive away. He did, maneuvering his way to Riverside Drive, then heading east until he was in Valley Village. He puttered around for a while, then turned south onto Laurel Canyon and—in what could only be described as dramatic irony—turned into the Von’s parking lot. The very lot where Courtney had been abducted in the first place.

He left his car, switched to another that had already been planted there, changed into board shorts and a faded blue tee, then put on the surfer-blonde wig and ball cap.

After that, he used the key that had been left under the mat to fire up the car and head back to the mall so he could reconnect with the team currently milling about the second floor as they traded off the duty to keep an eye on the men’s room.

“Anything?” he said, after putting on the headphone that had also been left for him.

“No takers so far,” Leah said. “Not a soul has gone into that restroom.”

“I’m on my way.”

“See you soon,” Trevor said, and just his voice alone made Ollie smile. As soon as this day was over, he was pulling Trevor close and, hopefully, fucking his brains out. He’d need to start with an apology, but surely Trevor would get it. The man knew how distracting he was to Ollie. And today of all days, Ollie had needed to be in full-focus mode.

“We’ve got something.” Brax’s voice rang out clear in Ollie’s headset. “A kid. Maybe seventeen. Jeans and a red tee. He’s heading for the men’s room.”

“Probably just taking a leak,” Leah said.

“Guess we’ll see. Yeah, okay, he’s in.”

Ollie picked up his pace, wanting to get to his station before the kid came out. He didn’t make it, and he turned to face the mall’s map, then hoped he looked like he was trying to locate a store.

“Bingo.” That was Trevor’s voice. “He’s got the bags and he’s on the move.”

“On him,” Liam said, and Ollie could imagine him and Quince falling in behind the kid, pursuing him to wherever he might be taking the ransom. Which, hopefully, ended up at Bobby’s hidey-hole.

“I’m going in,” Ollie said, once he’d turned around and saw that neither the kid nor Quince or Liam were anywhere in sight.

“You’re cleared,” Trevor said. “At your discretion.”

Ollie opened the door, then moved into the now unlocked stall where he’d left the money. At first he saw nothing, and he spat out a quick curse, then heard Trevor’s sharp intake of breath.

“Nothing?”

“Not a goddamn—wait. Something,” he said, seeing the envelope that had been taped beneath the stall’s private sink. He tugged it free of the tape, then said a quick prayer before carefully opening the sealed envelope. It contained just a thin strip of paper, and he pulled it out, then closed his eyes and exhaled in relief.

“An address,” he said. “We’ve got an address.”

“Report.”

He read the address back, and listened as Trevor dismissed Brax and Leah to head that way. “Get back to the car,” Trevor said. “We’ll be right behind them.”

“On my way,” Ollie acknowledged, then hurried out of the stall, praying that this wasn’t going to all go to shit, and that within the hour, they’d have Courtney safe and sound and back at her home.

* * * *

The address was all the way in Riverside, and since there was no way that Ollie was consigning Courtney to any more time in fear than was necessary, he called the Riverside FBI field office and had a team dispatched.

“Stealth,” he stressed. “She’s probably alone and bound, locked in. But we don’t know that for sure. Call me the moment you have eyes-on.”

When he hung up the call, his chest felt tight. “Tell me that wasn’t a mistake,” he said to Trevor, reaching over to twine their fingers together.

“It wasn’t. It’s the FBI. They know what they’re doing. She’s fine, Ollie,” he said. “We’ll have confirmation soon, but she’s fine.” He tugged his hand free from Ollie’s, then put it on the steering wheel. Ollie was so lost in thought, he barely noticed, his mind too full of worry for Courtney to have room for processing information about the world around him. He was in a car, and they were moving toward her prison. That was all he knew. Right then, that was all he needed to know.

The sharp ring of his phone made him jump, but he hit the button to answer immediately. “You got her?”

“It’s Liam. And we lost the money. And Bobby.”

Ollie caught Trevor’s eye. “What happened?”

“The kid passed if off four times. The last one was Bobby, or if not, it was his doppelg?nger. He took the satchels into a men’s room in a strip mall in Panorama City. Didn’t come out. Turns out the damn thing had a back janitor’s entrance. I’m sorry, McKee. That fuck-up’s on us.”

“You didn’t know. You were following protocol. And at least we know he’s not with Courtney. I have a local team going after her now. He may have the bills, but he won’t have her. And we know who he is. We’ll get him.”

“We might not,” Trevor said after Ollie ended the call. “That kind of cash, he could be halfway to transport out of the country already.”

Ollie shook his head. “No. We’ll find him. I won’t have Courtney living the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.”

Trevor stopped at a red light, then turned his attention to Ollie.

“What?”

But Trevor said nothing. Just shook his head. Ollie was about to ask, but the phone rang again. “Tell me,” he said when the call connected on the speaker.

“We’ve got her, sir. Unharmed. He had her tied to a bed. We’re cutting her loose right now.”

“Check for booby-traps.”

“Done and clear. We told her you were on your way. She’s unsteady, but clear. And she’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Stay with her there. I’ll get her statement later, but I need to see her there.”

“Affirmative.”

“Thank god,” Trevor said, but there was something hard under his voice. Frustration about Bobby, Ollie assumed. God knew he was frustrated about the abductor’s escape act.

But they’d catch him. Ollie didn’t care how long it took, somehow, someway, they’d catch the son-of-a-bitch.