Chapter Thirty-Five
Atticus was sitting at his desk, doing his level best not to look at the door, waiting for Archer to return, when his cell phone rang.
“Yeah, boss,” he said, answering immediately.
“We’re headin’ to Johnson City. I need you and Archer to get down that way now. I don’t know exactly where we’re goin’, so you’ll have to track my GPS. Reese’ll keep you updated as best he can.”
Because of the urgency in Brantley’s voice, Atticus was already on his feet, heading for the door. “Sure thing. Somethin’ wrong?”
“We don’t know yet. We’ve got a guy claimin’ he’s Allison Bogart’s partner. He says he knows where Kylie is.”
“No shit?” Atticus put some extra pep in his step. “We’re on our way.”
“Thanks, Atticus.”
He wasn’t sure what Brantley was thanking him for, but that was the least of his worries as he made a beeline for his truck.
“Archer!” he shouted at his partner, who was nearing the house on whatever weird ritual he was in the middle of. “We’ve gotta go. Now.”
Less than a minute later, Archer was in the passenger seat as Atticus sped down the driveway.
“Can you send Becs a text? Let her know what’s goin’ on?”
“Might be helpful if you let me know what’s goin’ on.”
Atticus glanced over briefly, then returned his attention to the road.
“Brantley called. A guy claimin’ to be Allison’s partner says he knows where Kylie is.”
“No shit?”
Atticus smiled because that was the same thing he’d said when Brantley had delivered the news.
“He happen to say where Allison was?”
“No.” That was probably the last thing he cared about if the man had claimed to know where Kylie was.
They spent the next hour and fifteen minutes with the radio on and very little conversation. Atticus wasn’t sure what to say, so he was grateful for the reprieve. Based on how quiet he was, he figured Archer felt the same.
Unfortunately, the lack of conversation made it easy for Atticus to replay Archer’s words over and over again in his mind.
I fantasize about stripping you, then running my tongue over every inch of your body. But I’m not lookin’ for a one-and-done deal, Atticus. And you’ve already said partners are off limits.
I did say that.
And you meant it.
Yes, he had meant it. But that was before Archer made that declaration.
Now he wanted nothing more than to give in to this ridiculous attraction simply so he could lose himself in someone.
Someone who might actually want more than to dominate and control, or to observe him in the throes with another man.
It was wrong to want that. More than wrong, probably. They were partners, and Atticus knew that relationships could screw that shit up.
Well, he didn’t actually know that. He didn’t have firsthand experience with it. But he did have experience working with someone he was involved with, and that hadn’t been easy. And it likely wouldn’t be easy going forward. Slade would probably make sure of that.
Desperate to get his mind on other things, he glanced Archer’s direction. “Can you pull up Brantley’s GPS? He didn’t give me an exact location.”
While his partner did that, Atticus prepared to turn into the town proper.
“Wait,” Archer pointed straight ahead. “Don’t turn. They’re farther north. And they’re still movin’, so it looks like we caught up to them.”
Atticus remained on the highway, noticing that it changed names. The area felt more rural than before, with more houses, more land. The homes appeared older, situated in small neighborhoods made up of two or three streets. When they neared a large church, Archer instructed him to slow down.
“You’re gonna turn left right up here,” he said. “It’s not a major intersection, so give me a sec.”
Atticus slowed as much as he could without impeding traffic.
“Okay. Here.”
Following the direction of Archer’s pointing finger, he put on his blinker and moved to the center turn lane, waiting for a pause in traffic before turning left onto a narrow asphalt road.
It was barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass at the same time, so he figured it was a good thing no one was coming toward him.
When they reached an intersection with a 7-Eleven, Archer directed him to keep going straight, so he did.
The farther they drove, the worse the road became.
It was washed out on both sides, and what was left had potholes and large dips that made for a rough ride.
There were houses, some mobile homes, and a couple of fields full of old junk cars.
Trusting that Archer would tell him where to go, Atticus continued to drive, moving as quickly as he dared.
“This road ends up here, you’re gonna turn left.”
Sure enough, the road ended—kinda—at a giant tree, but there were no stop signs, no street signs, just a yellow arrow pointing to the left.
Atticus went left, following the narrow road lined with mesquite trees and powerlines.
“Is that a river?” he asked, looking past Archer at the flow of water running parallel to the street they were on.
“Yep. Pedernales. And from what I can tell, they’re right up here.”
“Are they stopped?”
“Doesn’t look like it. The dot keeps moving. Faster than if they were on foot, but slower than you.”
Atticus slowed, continuing straight until he saw Brantley’s truck and a black Cadillac Escalade.
“That’s them,” he told Archer so he could put his phone away.
As though they’d been waiting for Atticus to catch up, the two vehicles went a little farther and then pulled over to the right.
Looked as though they’d made it.
Brantley stopped behind Travis’s SUV at the same time he noticed Atticus’s truck pulling up behind him.
“Looks like he’s openin’ the gate,” Reese said as they watched Kieran push open a rusted metal bar that blocked the narrow gravel path.
“Call Atticus. I have no idea what we’re walkin’ into, but I want him and Archer to be ready.”
“You don’t think this is a trap, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Brantley focused on the vehicle in front of him while Reese relayed what little details they had to Atticus and Archer.
“Yeah,” Reese said. “Kieran claims he’s got Kylie. I assume she’s here. We don’t know what’s up ahead, though, so keep your eyes open.”
Brantley pulled forward when Travis did. They bumped along the driveway that wound deeper into the dry grass and spindly mesquite trees.
He had no idea what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t a quaint little blue house with hardwood siding and a massive stone patio that appeared to circle the house. Based on the entry, he’d figured the house would be falling in on itself.
Definitely not the case.
“It backs to the river,” Reese noted when they slowed to a stop.
Before he could put the truck in Park, Travis and Gage were out of the SUV.
“Please, let her be okay,” Brantley muttered, getting out of the truck, prepared to follow.
“She’s here.”
“If you’re lyin’ to me, Kieran…” Travis figured his cousin could fill in the blanks.
As it was, he wanted to beat the man bloody.
According to him, he’d known Kylie was alive for a few months now, but Kieran didn’t bother to fucking tell him?
Didn’t think it was necessary to share that information?
To give his children a chance to stop grieving?
Travis’s heart was beating like a bass drum in his chest. The roaring in his ears could’ve been the river, but he had a feeling it was his blood rushing through his veins. The farther they’d gone, the more anxious he’d gotten.
He had no idea whether Kieran was fucking with them, although he couldn’t figure out why he would.
He was family. Sure, he worked for the FBI, and yeah, he had kidnapped Kylie, but not the way Travis had initially thought.
Or so Kieran had tried to explain. If the man was to be believed, he and Allison had actually kidnapped Kylie from her kidnappers. At least that was what he claimed.
According to the tale his cousin had weaved on the drive down, Kieran had been sent in to infiltrate Censorious and get Allison out. It was a deep-cover, off-the-books operation that only a couple of people knew about because the FBI was investigating one of their own: Martin Calloway.
That was when he learned that Kylie was being held hostage.
Unable to do anything that would blow his cover, Kieran had managed to position himself so that he could keep an eye on Kylie, ensure she was safe.
Then, when Kieran learned that Martin was going to dispose of Kylie because he no longer had any use for her, he made the decision to get her out of there.
His partner, Allison, had insisted on helping, although crossing Martin Calloway was a likely death sentence.
They had bided their time, waiting until the last second in an effort not to tip off Calloway.
They’d managed to get her out safely, but then had no choice but to hide her to keep her that way.
“There are biometric locks,” Kieran informed him as they approached the front door. “I installed them, as well as a high-tech security system, two days ago. At Kylie’s insistence.”
The thought of his wife living down here, settling in as though this was her new home, did not sit well with him.
Kieran unlocked the front door, then stepped inside to key in the code for the security system.
Travis looked at Gage, preparing himself for the worst.
“Kylie?” Kieran called out. “It’s me. You in here?”
Silence.
Travis frowned at his cousin. Was he fucking with them? “Where the fuck else would she be?”
“During the day, she likes to sit down by the river,” he said, clearly sensing Travis’s fury.
“Outside? What’s the point in all the security?” he demanded.
“Where is she?” Gage insisted, rounding on Kieran.
“I swear to you, she’s here.”
Swallowing hard, Travis glanced back to see Brantley, Reese, the dog, Atticus, and Archer walking through the door. Brantley tipped his head in the direction of the hallway. The four of them were armed, weapons out, as they began moving through the space.
“Clear,” Atticus called from the kitchen.
“Clear,” Archer called from somewhere off to the left.
“Clear here, too,” Reese said, returning with Tesha leashed and walking beside him.
“The alarm was set,” Gage said harshly. “She’d have to be inside.”
“There’s a bypass on the door in the bedroom,” Kieran explained. “She has a hard time bein’ confined to the house.”
Travis headed to the back door, unlocked it, and stepped outside. The back patio was covered with leaves that had fallen from the trees. There was a stone path that led from the house to the river, also hidden by falling leaves.
He stared out, looking for her, but didn’t see her. He fought the urge to clutch his chest. The pain was intense, the fear. He’d gotten his hopes up and—
“There she is,” Gage whispered, grabbing his arm. “Fuck. There she is.”
Travis followed the direction Gage was pointing, and he was lucky his knees didn’t give out.
“Oh, Jesus, Travis.” Gage’s voice broke. “It’s her.”
“Kylie,” he rasped, the word drifting softly into the air. He cleared his throat, then shouted her name.
Her head turned, and he saw the surprise register. Her cornflower blue eyes widened, and then there were tears. Hers. His. Gage’s.
Travis headed for her at a run, Gage at his side. He didn’t stop until he was standing in front of her, praying to God this wasn’t a dream, that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, or he wasn’t in some drug-induced hallucination.
“Travis,” she whispered, tears streaming down her beautiful face. “Gage. You’re here.”
When she ran into his arms, Travis caught her, holding tight as Gage moved in behind her. They stood like that, the three of them sobbing as the world righted itself on its axis after one year, eight months, and twenty-six days.