Chapter 15
Connor
“Rory! One minute she was there and the next she was gone!”
I said, gripping the phone in one hand as I raked a hand through my hair. It’s been twenty minutes since she disappeared. “And it turns out that there was no fire. Someone pulled the alarm in the hotel and set a dumpster bin on fire outside. I think it was a hoax because someone took her.”
I heard Rory sigh on the other end of the line. “Look, Connor, I know you’re worried, but there could be a simple explanation. Maybe she panicked and took off. Getting married is a big step, even if it’s just for show.”
“She wouldn’t just leave,”
I insisted, pacing the hotel lobby like a caged animal. “You didn’t see her face, Rory. She was about to tell me something important right before the alarm went off.”
“Alright, alright,”
Rory conceded. “I’ll make some calls, reach out to businesses in the area to see if anyone has security cameras that might have caught something. The tourist district is crawling with surveillance. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“And?”
I pressed, knowing there was more.
“And... I’ll put out some feelers with our contacts. See if anyone’s heard anything about a woman matching Mia’s description.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Rory. If we don’t find her, Wren is going to kill me.”
“Don’t thank me yet. In the meantime, try not to jump to conclusions. She might have just needed some air, you know? Probably stepped out for a bit to clear her head.”
“Maybe,”
I said, not believing it for a second. The knot in my stomach told me something was very wrong. “I’m going to check the hotel security footage.”
“Good idea. Call me the second you find anything.”
I ended the call and strode with determination toward the front desk, barely containing my panic. The young clerk looked up as I approached, his professional smile faltering slightly at my expression.
“Sir? Can I help you?”
“I need to see your security footage from the past hour,”
I said, my voice low. “My wife—” the word felt strange on my tongue, “—disappeared during the fire alarm, and I think someone took her.”
The clerk’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t just show you our security footage. That would require authorization from—”
He stopped talking as I leaned in. My patience evaporating, I said, “Listen to me very carefully. My name is Connor O’Brien. My family owns half the businesses between here and Toronto. I just got married today, and now my wife is missing. So either you show me that footage right now, or you will all be fired come morning because I’ll own this fucking hotel by then.”
The clerk swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “I’ll... I’ll need to get my manager.”
“Then get them. Now,”
I snapped.
Five excruciating minutes later, I was being led into a small, windowless room filled with monitors. The hotel manager, an annoyed looking woman in her fifties, gestured to a chair beside the security guard.
“Mr. O’Brien, I understand your concern, but I must emphasize that this is highly unusual,”
she said, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Our security footage is confidential.”
“Like I give a fuck,”
I bit out. “My wife is missing from your hotel, I might add. I’m sure the public would love to know how much you care about your guests.”
The security guard, a young kid who didn’t even look like he was old enough to have graduated high school, swung his gaze to look up at the manager, who gave a curt nod.
“What time did this happen?”
he asked, fingers poised over the keyboard.
“About twenty-five minutes ago, during the fire alarm. We were outside and got separated in the crowd.”
The guard nodded, typing rapidly. The screens flickered, and suddenly there we were— Mia and I, emerging from the hotel. I watched as we were separated by the surge of panicked guests. My heart pounded as I saw her looking around frantically, calling out for me.
Then I saw it. A man in a dark jacket appeared behind her, grabbing her arm. She turned, surprise and fear flashed across her features. The man pressed something to her face—a cloth or handkerchief. Her struggle was brief before she went limp in his arms.
“There!”
I shouted, pointing at the screen. “That man took her!”
The security guard zoomed in, the image grainy but clear enough. The man’s face was partially hidden, but I could make out sharp features and dark hair. He half-carried, half-dragged Mia through the crowd.
“Can you follow them on another camera?”
I demanded, my blood running cold.
The guard switched to another feed, showing the man loading her unconscious form into the back of a black van. A second man was behind the wheel, ready to drive away.
“I need the license plate,”
I said, my voice tight with controlled panic.
The guard zoomed in again, but the plate was deliberately obscured with mud.
“I’m calling the police,”
the manager announced, reaching for the phone.
“Don’t you dare,”
I said, my mind racing. “Can you get me a clearer image of the men’s faces? And check if there’s anything distinctive about that van—dents, stickers, anything.”
As the guard worked on enhancing the images, I pulled out my phone and called Rory again.
“They took her,”
I said without a greeting when he answered. “Two men. Black van, license plate was covered in mud. I’m looking at the security footage now.”
“Shit,”
Rory muttered. “Send me whatever you can get. I’ll have the team tracking every black van within a hundred-mile radius.”
“I’m going after them,”
I said, my decision made.
“Connor, you have nothing to go on. Wait for backup. You don’t know who these guys are or what they’re capable of.”
“You’re right. But I can’t just sit around and wait, she’s Wren’s sister and my wife now,”
I said, reminding him. Then a thought occurred to me. I gave Mia her purse right after I stuffed her phone inside. “How can we track her cell phone? She’s got it with her.”
“Her phone!”
Rory exclaimed. “Brilliant. Give me her number.”
I rattled off her number as I watched the security guard enhance the image of the man’s face. It wasn’t much clearer.
“Got it,”
Rory said. “I’m pinging her location now. As long as her phone isn’t in airplane mode or turned off, we should be able to track it. Got to go, Kat’s calling me. Call me back in five minutes.”
The security guard turned to me. “Sir, I’ve got the best image I can of the suspect’s face. And there is one distinguishing feature on the van – a small dent on the rear bumper, driver’s side.”
I nodded, memorizing every detail of the guy. “Send everything to this email,”
I instructed, reciting my address. “And I need a copy of that footage.”
“Sir,”
the manager started, her tone cautious, “I really think we should involve the police—”
“My wife was just kidnapped from your hotel,”
I said, my voice dangerously calm. “So unless you want the MacGallan clan as your enemy, I suggest you give me everything I need and stay out of my way.”
My phone buzzed with a text from Rory: * Got a ping. Phone moving north on QEW toward Toronto. Sending coordinates. *
“I have to go,”
I said, already moving toward the door. “Thank you for your help. I expect your discretion in this matter.”
I didn’t wait for a response, already dialing Rory back as I strode through the lobby toward the parking garage.
“I’m on my way to the car,”
I told him. “How far ahead are they?”
“About an hour. They’re moving fast, but not suspiciously so. Sticking to the speed limit.”
Smart. They didn’t want to draw attention.
“I’m sending a team to meet you,”
Rory continued. “They’re closer to the current location. Don’t engage alone, Connor. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“Understood,”
I lied, knowing full well I’d do whatever it took to get Mia back.
As I reached my car, another thought struck me. “Rory, she was going to tell me something. Right before the alarm, she said, ‘I’m an ass—’ and got cut off.”
“An ass? Maybe she was saying she was an asshole for lying to you?”
“No, hang on,”
I said, starting the engine. Once the Bluetooth connected, I continued. “It was something else. Something important. Never mind, I’ll talk to you later.”
I disconnected the call and peeled out of the parking garage. I made my way through the city streets, headed towards the QEW.
Once on the highway, my mind raced faster than the car. “What were you trying to tell me? I’m an ass—”
What could it be? Assistant? Assayer? The possibilities tumbled through my head, none making any sense. Assassin. I laughed at the thought of Mia being one as my phone rang. Rory’s name flashed on the dashboard display.
“Connor, the signal stopped moving. They’re at a warehouse complex about 40 miles north of your position.”
“Send me the exact location,”
I demanded, pressing harder on the accelerator.
“Already did. But Connor, listen to me. Our team is still 15 minutes out. You need to wait—”
“I’m not waiting,”
I cut him off. “Every minute counts. For all we know, they could be moving her again soon.”
Rory sighed heavily. “At least tell me you’re armed.”
I glanced at the glove compartment where I kept my Glock. “Yes.”
“Fine. But promise me you’ll just scout it out until backup arrives. No heroics.”
“I promise,”
I lied again, already planning how I’d get inside to where she was.
The GPS showed I was getting close. I turned off my headlights and slowed down, pulling onto a service road that ran parallel to the warehouse district. The place was dimly lit, most of the buildings dark except for security lights. Perfect for conducting shady business without drawing attention.
I spotted the black van parked behind the third building, partially hidden by stacks of wooden pallets. My heart hammered in my chest as I parked a safe distance away and killed the engine. I scanned the windows and doors, as I reached across to the glove compartment for my gun.
Quietly, I opened the car door and slid out, closing it with a barely audible thud. Moving silently through the shadows, I approached the warehouse. A skylight was lit from within and as I got closer, I strained to hear any sounds from inside but only silence greeted me.
I rounded the corner and found a small door and tried the handle. Locked, of course. I crouched down, examining the lock. Standard deadbolt, nothing fancy. I could pick it, but that would take time I didn’t have.
Looking around, I spotted a window about six feet off the ground. It was slightly ajar, just enough for me to get my fingers underneath. Quietly, I dragged a wooden crate over and climbed up.
The window opened with a faint creak that made me wince. I froze, listening for any reaction from inside. When none came, I hoisted myself up and through the narrow opening, landing softly on what felt like a metal catwalk.
The warehouse was vast and dimly lit. From where I stood, I could see most of the interior. Stacks of crates lined the walls, and a small office area was partitioned off in one corner. A single light burned there, casting long shadows across the concrete floor.
I made my way down a set of stairs to the main floor, staying hidden in the shadows. I pulled my gun from my waistband. There was just one more room left. She must be inside. When I tested the doorknob, it turned smoothly in my hand.
As the door creaked open, I saw an empty room with a single chair in the middle of it. With Mia’s purse sitting on it. Stalking over to it, I shoved my hand inside and pulled out her cellphone.
“Fuck me.”