Chapter 17
Grant hurtled down the highway, weaving through the traffic that grew increasingly slow and snarled as he got closer to Atlanta.
He dialed Everly for a third time, anxiety coiling in his gut as the call went to voicemail.
Again. She’s asleep. She went to the store and forgot her phone at home. She went out with friends.
He tried to convince himself that there had to be a benign explanation.
Andropov was in custody. No one was threatening her.
But something niggled at him, some well-honed instinct propelling him to keep going, telling him that something was wrong.
It was the same feeling he’d had the day Melissa was murdered, and he’d convinced himself he was being paranoid, that his sister could take care of herself.
It had been a deadly mistake, one he was determined not to repeat.
The truck leapt forward as Grant mashed the gas pedal, weaving between two semi trucks. Cars honked in protest, but he ignored them, driving on the shoulder to move ahead. Let the highway patrol ticket him. He didn’t care. He was too close to Everly’s house to slow down now.
A trilling noise on the speakers announced an incoming call. His heart lurched, but a glance at the screen showed Noah’s name, rather than Everly’s, flashing. He punched the button on the steering wheel to connect.
“Mikhail Andropov is stateside,” Noah blurted before Grant could get a word out.
“Andrei is coherent and singing like a canary. Says Mikhail is planning to kidnap Everly.” Voices sounded in the background.
“Intel just picked it up. Landed at Hartsfield a month ago, spotted in the city off and on since then. Get to her now, McDowell.”
Grant roared, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. “Son of a bitch!” How the hell had the motherfucker gone undetected? He ran through possibilities. “Her phone. What does the location show?”
“Evan’s working on it,” Noah told him. He heard voices in the background again, and he knew that STAG was working at full speed, doing what they did best. “Looks like she lost signal. He’s trying to find a workaround.”
“Fuck.” If she hadn’t activated the emergency signal that Lawson had installed…
“Stay with me, McDowell. Tracking your location now. Ten minutes to Everly’s house.”
Maybe she was there, safe and sound. Except…
she would have returned his calls by now.
He knew that as well as he knew his own name.
Grant willed himself to that place of calm rationality, where emotion didn’t factor into his decision-making and instinct took over.
But he couldn’t suppress the fear. Not this time, when everything that mattered in his life was at stake.
He flew into the cul-de-sac, tires squealing, and whipped into the driveway.
A light was on inside, and Grant could see even before he reached it that the front door stood open.
A flowerpot lay shattered on the concrete porch, soil and leaves smeared into the concrete as if someone had scuffled their feet in it. As if there’d been a struggle.
Posie yowled inside, and he pushed the door open, holding his breath, praying he wouldn’t see the worst. Relief buckled his knees as he saw nothing but a puffy white tail disappearing under the couch.
If she wasn’t here, then there was still hope.
Noah was silent on the phone, understanding that Grant needed to sweep the house before he could speak again.
He cleared the house in minutes. The back door and windows were locked, and nothing was out of place.
He grabbed Everly’s keys from the kitchen counter and locked the door behind him.
“House is clear,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.
“Looks like they lured her outside and got her on the porch. She’s gone, man.
” His voice cracked in spite of his resolve. “She’s gone.”
“Time to show these fuckers who they’re messing with,” Noah said, his voice now as calm as if he were placing an order at the drive-through. Grant recognized that tone. It was his own operator mode, and right now he was thankful that his captain had a better grip on his sanity than Grant did.
“Stand by, McDowell,” his voice crackled over the phone speaker. “We’re gonna have your lady back by the time this night is over.”
◆◆◆
Her head, her back, her arms—everything hurt. That was Everly’s first thought as consciousness returned and she remembered what had happened. She’d been convinced Grant was at the door, and then there had been a gun and then—nothing.
She was in a vehicle—a van, judging by the boxy interior.
The only light came from the dashboard ahead.
She turned her head ever so slowly, partly not to raise suspicion and also because her skull felt like it had been split down the middle.
Two men sat in the front, the cracked vinyl seats obscuring everything except their arms.
“That was easier than I expected. Andrei claimed she was slippery,” said the one in the passenger seat. She recognized his voice. It was the man who’d tried to sell her a vacuum just a week and a half ago. The one who had pointed a gun at her earlier.
“Yeah, well, he’s not as smart as he pretends to be. Guess Mikhail got all the brains.” The driver sounded older, rougher. He laughed at himself, his gravelly voice giving out in a smoker’s hack.
The van bounced along, every jolt against the metal floor sending waves of pain through Everly’s body. Her stomach rolled with fear, but underneath that familiar feeling, something else was starting to burn.
Rage. Pure, unadulterated fury that the man who had promised in front of God and everyone to always put her first, to love and cherish her, had instead pawned her safety for a payout. And now these idiots had hunted her down to take what Jeremy had promised them.
The only crime she’d committed was trusting a man who had fed her to the wolves. But she was done being devoured.
Everly swallowed the pain. Think. Focus. She forced herself to assess the situation, to think through her options as Grant would have done.
Grant.
She wished she’d told him that she loved him. That she was done pretending he wasn’t her heart’s first choice. Tomorrow was never guaranteed—she knew that now more than ever—and if this was the end, he’d never know.
This isn’t the end , she scolded herself. Don’t give the bastards the satisfaction. Everly took a breath as best as she could through the gag covering her mouth and looked around for anything that she could use to free her zip-tied hands and feet.
Something glinted in the shadows on the floor. Her phone. She glanced up front to ensure that the men were distracted, a plan forming in her mind. The van hit a pothole, and she used the movement to jostle herself closer to her phone. Andropov’s goons continued talking, oblivious.
Slowly, she shifted with the bumps in the road, inching toward it. Each movement sent bolts of pain through her arms bound behind her, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. At last, her fingers grazed shattered glass.
She twisted her head to get a glimpse at the screen.
No signal.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. She drew another breath through the gag and then fumbled with the phone, arms screaming in pain at the awkward backwards motion.
Finally, she held it by its sides, buttons between her fingers.
The men up front laughed, smoked, and flipped through radio stations, not even bothering to glance back at her, and she prayed that they would stay distracted long enough for her plan to work as she pushed the power and volume buttons in the pattern that Evan had shown her.
She held her breath, waiting for confirmation that her SOS had been received.
Her phone remained as still as if it were dead.
Please, she begged the silence. Please let someone be listening.
◆◆◆
“We’ve got a signal,” Evan’s voice broke through the earbud Grant had tucked in his ear. “And it’s moving fast. West of the city.”
Grant slammed on the brakes and pulled off onto the next exit, already searching for a place to turn around. “She’s still in Atlanta?”
Evan’s keyboard clacked in the background. “Her phone is, anyway. Bet she is too. Hold on. Let me see what I can pick up based on this location…”
“Lawson, dude. I could kiss you right now,” Grant said, a spark of hope lighting in his chest.
His teammate laughed. “Everly might have something to say about that.”
Lockhart’s voice suddenly sounded in Grant’s ear, and he sat a little straighter, bracing himself for an ass-chewing for the orders he’d ignored today. “Where are you, Sergeant?”
“Still in Decatur, sir.” With no idea where Everly had gone, he’d stayed close to her neighborhood, canvassing the area for anything suspicious while Noah had kept him on the phone.
“Ah. Sergeant Lawson just showed me. Listen carefully. He’s sending you coordinates for the rendezvous point.”
Grant tapped on Evan’s message to load the information into his GPS. “Got it.”
“Excellent. STAG is wheels up in ten. And McDowell–whatever you do, do not engage the target. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Grant said, his throat tight. The colonel was sticking his neck out for him, and his gratitude went beyond words.
“Stand by, Sergeant,” Lockhart replied. Grant yanked the wheel to the left, tires squealing as he spun a U-turn and sped west, Lockhart’s voice still in his ear but addressing the team now.
“Looks like our friend Andropov was right, and his brother Mikhail has abducted Mrs. Holland. Tracking data indicates she’s in a moving vehicle northwest of Atlanta, most likely headed for the abandoned CDC annex at the northern end of the industrial complex.”
Grant jaw tightened. Those old government buildings were a warren of rooms and stairwells, sketchy at best and an outright health hazard at worst.
“Liftoff is in eight. Fixed-wing into Dobbins, and the chopper will take you the rest of the way. Sergeant McDowell will be meeting you at the rendezvous point at approximately 2200 hours.”
A scattered volley of yes sir sounded in the background.
“Orders are simple. Breach and recovery. You are greenlit to eliminate any and all hostile threats, and extract Everly Holland. Andropov is not expected to surrender. Gentlemen, are we clear?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” the chorus echoed in his ear.