Chapter Sixteen
Pope gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles went white. He was just nearing the end of the road leading to the auction house when Carson’s voice echoed through the speakers.
“We got him.”
Pope jammed his boot into the brakes, causing the truck to fishtail. Adrenaline slammed through his bloodstream. In the passenger seat, Colt sat steady as a rock and didn’t say a word about his driving.
“Talk to me,” Pope barked.
“The trucking company confirmed the tag.” Keyboard clicks rattled over the line. “Every truck in Crowe’s fleet carries GPS tracking. They can track his speed, route, stops, idle time. We can see the whole damn run. And he was on the auction grounds at the time Summer disappeared.”
His gut hollowed. He fucking knew it.
“Where is he?” His voice was a rasp.
“Heading east on 90 doing sixty-two.” More typing. “No stops since leaving the auction grounds.”
Relief punched hard enough into Pope’s chest it hurt.
Not gone. Not vanished.
Trackable.
And no stops meant that Summer was probably still in the truck. Still alive. Still within reach.
“Take a right,” Colt directed, and he whipped the wheel hard at the same time he matted the gas pedal to the floor.
They burned down the road headed to the highway.
Colt braced a hand on the dash but kept quiet, his expression as grim as Pope’s own.
“Dutch and I are on the road now. We’re on your tail,” Carson said.
He expected his emotions to be knotted from what happened to Summer.
He wasn’t prepared to be hit by a wave of feeling for his new team.
If he didn’t completely fuck things up and they accepted him as a full-time bodyguard, it was the closest thing to a brotherhood he’d felt since leaving his SEAL team.
As if he sensed his struggle, Colt acknowledged Carson’s statement, and the call dropped.
“I know this feeling. Don’t spiral yet,” Colt said.
He didn’t look away from the road. “What do you mean you know this feeling?”
“I thought I lost Aspen when a dirty son of a bitch thought he deserved what she had.”
Pope’s throat constricted. “I didn’t know,” he gritted out.
“It happened right around the time you entered the program. I couldn’t breathe until I got her back.” His gaze drilled into Pope’s face. “The hours Aspen was in danger were the worst of my life. Don’t let your head go dark before we get Summer back.”
Too late—his mind was already racing through still shots of Summer tied up. Summer’s beautiful face streaked with tears. Creased with terror. Her devastation when she learned she was being taken from her son.
His stomach gave a violent twist.
He clenched his jaw hard enough to make it pop. The truck shook beneath him as he pushed it hard down the Wyoming highway, engine growling and tires humming against asphalt. Fence posts and open fields streaked past the windows.
He gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles ached, but he barely felt anything over the violent pulse of adrenaline tearing through his system.
Every minute Gary Crowe remained on the road with Summer felt like another minute closer to losing her forever.
Beside him, Colt was on his phone, body stiffening when Pope took a curve too fast. But he didn’t mention the speedometer climbing higher and higher.
Colt looked up from his phone. “Auction security cameras were useless.”
“Nothing?” he bit out.
“Nothing useful, just like that guard told you. No coverage near the food stands. The horse trailers blocked everything in that area. They never even caught her leaving the grounds, much less if she’s really with Crowe.”
“He’s got her. I feel it in my gut.” Conviction rang in his voice, and Colt didn’t argue.
“Hold on to that, man. Listen to your gut.”
He swallowed. “She’s alive.”
Colt said nothing.
“She’s alive,” he said again, as if he repeated it enough times, it would become fact instead of the desperate hope currently clawing through his chest.
“She knows you’ll come for her.”
Confidence surged through him. Because she would know.
After everything she’d survived with her ex, after years of learning not to depend on anybody, Summer finally trusted Pope. She believed in him to show up when things got ugly. And he intended to keep on proving himself to her.
Carson called, and Colt answered before Pope could grab for the phone himself.
“We’re setting a trap,” Carson said without formalities. “Highway patrol’s forcing all commercial trucks through the weigh station outside Sheridan.”
Pope’s pulse slammed harder.
“They know which truck?” Colt asked.
“We gave them the truck ID, plate, trailer number, everything.” More keyboard clicks rattled through the speakers. “Crowe’s still moving east. No deviation from route. No stops.”
Pope let his eyes slip shut for a brief heartbeat. If Crowe put her in that truck, she was still inside. Which meant he couldn’t have dumped her body.
“We’re about ten minutes behind him,” Carson continued. “Highway patrol’s staging units now. They’ll box him in once he enters inspection.”
“What if he runs?” Pope bit out.
“He won’t at first,” Carson said. “Guys like him survive by blending in. He’ll try to act normal until he realizes he’s trapped.”
Pope prayed Carson was right, because if Gary Crowe panicked before they got Summer out—
His stomach lurched hard enough to make him nauseated.
“Five miles out.” Colt stared at the map tracking across his screen.
Pope locked the pedal to the floor, and the truck surged fast enough to press them both into their seats. He threaded between two slower vehicles with inches to spare.
“Jesus Christ,” Colt muttered under his breath, grabbing the dash again.
The highway opened ahead in a long ribbon. Commercial trucks thickened the closer they got to Sheridan, every one of them funneling toward the weigh station.
Pope’s heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
One of those trucks held Summer. Rage pulsed so hot through Pope’s bloodstream it almost blurred his vision.
“She’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get her,” Colt said quietly.
Pope swallowed hard. “She has to be.” He couldn’t survive anything else.
The first flashing lights appeared in the distance several minutes later. Then came the weigh station itself.
Highway patrol cruisers lined both sides of the road. Troopers moved between commercial vehicles with purpose as trucks rolled slowly toward inspection lanes.
Pope’s pulse exploded.
“Far lane,” Colt snapped, staring at the tracker. “Black Freightliner.”
Pope spotted it.
Black cab.
Silver trailer.
Gary Crowe.
I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch.
The semitruck rolled slowly forward between patrol units like nothing was wrong.
Like Summer wasn’t trapped inside.
Pope’s hands clamped around the wheel wishing it was Crowe’s neck, and he jerked the truck hard into gravel near the inspection area, barely waiting for it to stop before shoving open the door.
“Pope!” Colt barked behind him.
He was already running.
The thunder of his boots pounding pavement mixed with the rage pulsing through his bloodstream. Troopers converged from every direction at the same time, weapons drawn as they surrounded the Freightliner.
“Driver! Shut it down!”
“Hands out the window!”
The cab door opened.
A stunned Gary Crowe stepped halfway down before officers ripped him onto the pavement.
Pope didn’t even look at him.
“Summer!”
No answer.
Fear sliced through his chest.
One of the troopers grabbed for his arm. “Sir, you can’t—”
“She’s in there.”
He tore free and climbed into the truck. His gaze locked on the sleeper compartment with its curtain hanging halfway open. Pope shoved it back hard enough the clips snapped loose from the rail.
Summer lay curled against the mattress with zip ties cutting into her wrists. Her hair hung around her tear-streaked cheeks. Her eyes were murky, like she’d been drugged, but fear filled the depths.
The moment she saw him, relief shattered across her face in such a wild blast it nearly brought him to his knees.
“Vander.” Her voice cracked on his name.
Jesus Christ.
He dropped beside her, hands shaking bad enough to make it take too long to yank his knife free and cut through the restraints around her wrists.
“You’re okay,” he rasped. “Honey, I got you.”
The zip ties snapped loose, and Summer launched herself at him so fast she nearly knocked him backward.
Pope caught her hard against his chest and held on like he’d never let go again. Her entire body trembled against him. Fingers twisted desperately into the back of his shirt and uneven breaths hit his neck.
“I’m here,” he murmured roughly into her hair. “I’m here now.”
She buried her face deeper against him.
“He said…” Her voice shook badly. “He said you wouldn’t find me.”
Pure rage flashed white hot through Pope’s senses.
“He was wrong.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes glassy.
For one terrible second, Pope saw exactly how close he’d come to losing her. Another person gone under his protection. Another failure ‘to carry forever.
But not this time.
He brushed shaking fingers across her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers.
“You came for me,” she whispered.
Emotion tightened his throat, making it hard to force in air. “Nothing on this earth would’ve stopped me from reaching you.”
“I knew you’d come. I knew you would.”
He stared at her for one suspended heartbeat before he crushed his mouth to hers.
The kiss turned messy as every emotion he’d been holding back since she disappeared slammed into it hard enough to shake him. She clutched at his shirt, kissing him back like she needed the proof he was real.
Outside the truck, sirens and shouting still rang through the weigh station. Inside the sleeper compartment, none of it mattered.
She was alive.
And for the first time in years, Pope didn’t feel helpless.
* * * * *
Summer didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke in Vander’s arms with panic still trapped halfway up her throat.