Chapter 30
Moto stood at the main computer terminal at HERO Force New York, tracking a terrorist through cyberspace. “You stupid fuck, get back here. I see you, and I’m not going to stop until I catch you.”
Champion did stomach crunches on the floor. “Does it help when you yell at them?”
“Of course it fucking does.” The tango was routing his signal through hubs all over the world. Each was its own little puzzle, a certain type of encryption or a different language to overcome. It was painstaking work, and he did it quickly and accurately, targeting his mark and gaining on him.
Razorback walked into the room. “Jax just called from Atlanta. Another note was found.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Moto. “What is it this time?”
“A ransom demand.”
Moto’s eyes shot to Razorback’s. “He kidnapped someone?”
“A little girl named Molly Esposito, daughter of a Spanish diplomat. She’s seven.”
It was a race against time, and the stakes had just gotten higher.
“Logan,” he barked, even as he continued to work.
“Get me Logan on the line.” When he was there, Moto said, “I need your help. Get on the main terminal and I’ll screen share with you.
Every one of this fucker’s relays costs me time. ”
Logan logged on to the system hundreds of miles away, the two of them working together to save a little girl from a madman. Moto was aware of the other men coming and going, no one daring to speak, each understanding the magnitude of the problem at hand.
Hours went by, and sweat soaked through Moto’s shirt. It was Wyatt’s face he imagined while he worked, his love for his son that resonated across the miles of computer networks that secreted away the girl.
It had been three months since they’d killed DeRegina, during which time Moto had visited Wyatt five times.
With each trip, he hoped for some spark in Davina’s features, any indication that she might share even a fraction of his feelings for her, but he was always let down.
She was supportive of him spending time with Wyatt and always made plans for herself while Moto was in town.
Trouble was, he didn’t know why. From that last dinner at her house in Houston to the present day, she hadn’t given him any idea of why she’d shut him out, and it was killing him. His nights, when he could sleep, were filled with dreams of her. His days with thoughts of going back there.
He’d hired a contractor to build his house, even okayed the plans with Davina and Wyatt in mind. It was a fantasy house built for a fantasy family that didn’t actually exist. Surely Wyatt would visit the house someday, but he couldn’t imagine Davina would be with him.
Moto tracked the terrorist to a server in Berlin, painstakingly working to find the next link in the chain, when suddenly an address popped on his screen. 1618 Rudersdorfer Street. “Logan, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Almost there. Hang on… Holy shit, we got him!”
“Razorback!” belted Moto. “We got him! Get in here.” He rattled off the address the moment the other man entered the room.
“I’ll call Interpol.”
Moto sank onto a chair, exhausted. “Be safe, Molly,” he whispered to the universe. For the next hour, he waited with Razorback for any word on the girl’s fate, but it was his own family that seemed to hang in the balance, his relationship with Davina the only thing that could right the world.
He’d never even told her what he really wanted, how much he needed her life to be twisted tightly with his. He’d done everything he could to save a stranger’s daughter, but he’d fallen short of the finish line for his own damn family.
He knew what he had to do. Put it all on the line, tell Davina he wanted the three of them to be a family, that he never wanted to leave her side, that he’d give up New York and HERO Force in a hot second if it meant he could have her.
The desk phone rang and Razorback answered it. “This is Ian Rhodes,” he barked. “Yes.” He stared at Moto. “Yes. Yes, I understand.” He hung up. “They found her, safe and sound.”
Moto instantly slumped, caving in on himself like he’d lost all his bones. “I need to get out of here.”
“Go home. Take the day off tomorrow. You’ve earned it.”
Just like that, he knew what he needed to do. “I’m not going home, I’m going to Houston.” He stood up wearily. “Maybe that is going home. I don’t know.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. Depends if she’ll marry me or not.” He stumbled down the hall and out the door, the corridors and elevator barely registering. Saving that girl had been like saving his own family, which was just as real and just as tangible as the real Molly Esposito somewhere across the ocean.
He didn’t go back to his apartment.
He didn’t pack.
He didn’t even buy a ticket before getting to the airport, disheveled and drawn. He did get a hotel room in Houston for the night, because he needed to sleep and to shower, and there was something important he needed to do before going to Davina and begging for her forgiveness.
He needed to go to a jewelry store. The woman he loved deserved a ring when he asked her to be his wife.