Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
RAY
Headlights flash through the windows at Tymber Woulf Security and everyone inside turns to see who pulled in. I don’t know the car, but familiarity hits when the passenger exits the vehicle.
I bolt from the conference room for the front door. It swings open as I round the corner, Kaya coming into view. For the first time in several hours, I breathe a little deeper. When I have Tucker back in my arms, I’ll breathe fully.
Puffy, red-rimmed eyes greet me, and the sight breaks my heart for a different reason.
I was such an asshole earlier. Yes, I was in full-on panic mode. But it’s a poor excuse for my behavior. Tucker’s abduction is not Kaya’s fault, nor mine. Letting her carry an ounce of guilt for what happened was a dick move on my part, and I’ll do whatever necessary to make it up to her.
Swathing Kaya in my arms, I hug the air from her lungs and breathe in her comforting, earthy rose scent. “So, so sorry, Fire Eyes. I wasn’t thinking.”
If I have to, I will apologize every hour of every day until Kaya tells me to stop. Inching back, I cup her cheeks and bend at the knees so we’re eye level.
“Please tell me you believe I didn’t mean it.” Thumbs stroking her cheeks, I drop my forehead to hers.
“I believe you.”
My shoulders cave forward.
“But I won’t let you forget.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Better not.”
“Tré,” Tymber calls from the conference room. “Phone.”
“Shit.” I take Kaya’s hand, spin around, and jog across the office. “Come on.” We enter the room, and all eyes are on my phone on the table.
Tymber glances up, his expression unreadable. “Think it’s a text with an image.”
I swipe my phone from the table and tap on the notification. A second later, a low-resolution image of Tucker appears on the screen, and I enlarge it. Curled in on himself, he looks so damn scared. I soak in the sight of him and let the fact he is alive soothe an inkling of my panic. Then I shift my attention to the space around him—the bed, the edge of the lampshade, the picture on the wall behind him.
None of it looks familiar.
Where are you?
Setting my phone on the table, I keep my eyes on the screen. “It’s him. He’s okay.” I point to the image. “Wish I knew where this is.”
Everyone leans closer and squints at the picture. Time stretches out as they stare and pick apart the background. The solemn look on their faces as they stand back up is all the answer I need.
They don’t know the place either.
“Can I?” Kaya points at the phone. When no one responds, she picks it up and narrows her eyes as she brings the phone closer. Her brows pinch as she tilts her head. A beat later, her eyes widen.
I crowd her. “Do you know this place, Fire Eyes?”
Slowly, she shifts her attention to me and nods. “Think so.”
Relief slams into my chest. “Where is it?”
“Several years ago, I went hiking with my family just north of the Stone Bay border. We happened upon this old cabin in the woods. Looked like no one had lived there in a while.” She stares back down at the image. “We hiked the same area a few months later and someone was cleaning up the place. We stopped and spoke with them. They showed us the inside and said they planned to rent it to tourists.” She points at the painting on the wall in the picture. “This floral painting… I asked about it.” She meets my gaze. “It’s the only reason I remember this place.”
Clasping her arms, I bite the inside of my cheek to resist sounding impatient. “Where is it?” I ask again.
“A couple miles outside of town, there’s a dirt road”—she closes her eyes and pinches them tightly—“I can’t remember the name.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her as hope trickles into my bloodstream. “What else?”
“There’s maybe a mile between the highway and the cabin. The train tracks are another half mile or so east of it.” Kaya winces. “Rough guess.”
I drop my mouth to hers in a chaste kiss. “It’s more than any of us had. Thank you.”
Papers shuffle on the table. I turn to see Travis spreading out a map. Everyone leans in as he points at an area.
“From her description, I estimate the cabin is here.” Travis draws a circle on the map with his finger. “Train yard is here. We have”—he checks his watch—“forty-eight minutes until the meetup. Tré?”
I meet his gaze across the table.
“Go to the train yard. Take your family or anyone Tucker is comfortable around. If they make the exchange, we need someone he feels safe with to protect him.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue. Knowing Brianna, she will hide Tucker at the cabin with the intent of using him again in the future. But I don’t get a word out.
“I’ll go to the train yard,” Kaya offers. “Tucker feels safe with me.”
Her bravery makes my pulse soar. Just another reason to… care deeply for her.
“We’ll be there, too,” Dad states as he hugs Mom to his side.
“Perfect. Officers will be split between the cabin and train yard. Tré’s the only one visible for the exchange. Everyone else hides in the tree line or shadow of the buildings. You’ll have a duffel filled with bundled paper that looks like cash.” Travis levels his gaze with mine and holds it. “You do not hand over the bag until Tucker is released. Once they know there’s no money, shit will go sideways. Tucker needs to be out of the way first.”
“Got it,” I say.
“Once Tucker is safe, officers will make their presence known. I suggest you get as far away from Brianna and the man as possible. We want to apprehend them but will take them down if necessary.”
Sweat dampens my skin as my stomach cramps. All I can do is nod.
“Let’s head out,” Travis orders. “Best if we get there early and hide any signs of other people.” Travis turns to Tymber. “You good going to the cabin with my group?”
“Absolutely.” Tymber pulls out his phone. “Let me update Levi and hit the head before we go.”
“Meet you outside in five,” Travis says then exits the conference room.
I turn to Kaya. “Sure you’re okay with this?”
Her brows knit together, her coppery-brown eyes locked on mine. “I need to be there. And he’s going to need all of us.”
Taking her hand, I lace our fingers. “As long as you’re sure.”
We leave the conference room and head for the front door, Mom and Dad behind us. Outside, we cram into my parents’ SUV to lessen the number of vehicles to hide.
The drive to the train yard is quiet. Every possible scenario plays in my head as the miles disappear. As we approach the building, an officer flags us to stop and directs us where to park. One visible vehicle is expected. The cops contacted the yard’s manager and were able to access a building to park two cars in.
Kaya and my parents duck just inside the closest building.
I stand out in the open on an empty patch of dirt between the building and the tracks, a black duffel in my hand. Sweat soaks my shirt as my heart pounds viciously in my chest. My gaze roams the trees, the tracks, the sides of the buildings, the street that ends at the station.
I tighten my hold on the bag. Take a deep breath, then another. Count to ten in an effort to settle my nerves, to calm the nausea clawing its way up my throat.
Light bounces off one of the buildings as the sound of gravel crunching hits my ears. A commercial van rolls closer, and I swallow past the fear-shaped lump in my throat.
Get Tucker to safety. That’s the only thing that matters.