Chapter 1
Ivy Calder tucked AirPods in her ears, checked her shoelaces to confirm they were tight enough, and then took off toward the west, away from the rising sun.
A morning run would clear her head and, with any luck, give her answers.
Her father was known to take off every once in a while and disappear.
He’d turn up a couple of days, maybe a week later, looking like the cat dragged him in.
Sometimes, he was still drunk and dehydrated.
Other times, he’d casually walked through the front door like he’d gone out for a gallon of milk.
Eight days had passed since she’d last seen or heard from the man.
He wasn’t answering his cell, which wasn’t usually cause for concern.
He had the whole absent-minded professor bit down pat, always had.
But eight days? He usually realized the battery had died within a day or two, charged his phone, and then returned messages or checked in with a phone call.
Could be on a binge. That reality smacked hard.
She’d moved back to Austin to be near him after he’d gotten sober and joined a support group.
Before then, it had been too heartbreaking to sit idly by and watch him self-destruct.
The accident had been hard on him. Survivor’s guilt, she’d read, could bring the strongest person to their knees.
This disappearance felt different. There’d been cryptic messages beforehand. Messages that had led her to believe something ominous was brewing. The last one had read: thr will b blood.
Should she know what that meant?
Ivy tapped the screen on her phone to get the music started before slipping it into her running armband.
“Ace of Spades” by Motorhead blasted in her ears, canceling out all the questions. Metal was the only way to calm the constant noise in her head. The song was fast and loud, and just what she needed to drown out the near-crippling anxious thoughts that had been playing on repeat in her mind.
Where are you, Dad?
Running down 10th Street, she cut left onto North Lamar Street and then ran past her favorite bookstore, Book People, on her way toward the Colorado River and Cesar Chavez Street.
She passed W. 6th Street, then 5th Street.
At the corner of 3rd, she stalled out in thick foot traffic.
Even this time of morning on a Sunday, the streets were filled with bodies.
Everyone from runners to bikers to walkers seemed to make their way toward the Colorado River and end up directly in her path.
Ivy kept herself positioned toward the back of the pack, figuring it would break on the other side of the street, and she could zip in between people and bikes until she broke out of the clump.
Much of her life had been spent hanging back, watching and waiting before making a move.
The strategy had served her well. At times, though, she wondered what it would be like to charge ahead without overthinking every situation.
How would her life be different if she took bold steps rather than calculated moves?
Would she be less lonely?
Where the hell did that thought come from?
The light changed. The crowd moved as one large mass. Once they got on the other side of the street, they would surely break apart and spread like a hungry virus on the search for new cells to infect.
The opportunity to bust through the pack seemed about as close as Christmas to March. The clump had to break at some point. She strained her neck to see around the bobbing heads in front of her, blocking her.
Come on. Come on. I don’t have all day.
Patience had never been her strong suit.
Music thumping, she scanned the sea of hair in front of her, searching for an opening.
Hands gripped her from behind.
What the…?
There had to be at least two men. Two sets of very large, grabby hands fisted around her clothes and body parts.
Before she could scream, one of those hands covered her mouth as she was being hustled to the side and stuffed into the backseat of an SUV.
She fumbled to grab her phone, but her arm running band was immediately ripped off her.
“Hey, Siri,” she said, “call 911.”
“You think that’s going to work, bitch?”
She didn’t recognize the voice. A bag came over her head.
In the next second, her phone was turned off, then tossed out the window. Must have been. She heard the window go down and the crunch of her phone as it smashed against pavement. What now? She had to think.
The engine was purring, the SUV rolling, and those large hands shoved her down onto the floorboard where they ensured she stayed despite her trying her best to wriggle out of them.
She kicked, but a vise wrapped around her calf, forcing her to stop. She tried to scream, but another hand covered her mouth, stuffing cloth inside.
“We have a live one,” one of the men said. She heard the smirk in his words.
Bastard.
“Hold still, bitch,” the other one said. “If you want to live to see your father again, you’ll behave.”
Those words slammed into her like bullets, causing her to freeze momentarily.
What connection could these men possibly have to her father?
It dawned on her that if she was being taken to a secure location, she needed to memorize the turns for when she escaped.
She also needed to stop panicking. Freaking out would get her nowhere.
She recalled her starting point: Cesar Chavez and Lamar.
Which way had she been dragged? It took her brain a moment to recalibrate. Okay, she’d been pulled backward as she crossed the street toward the Colorado River. From the street that ran along the Colorado River. Think. Think.
“What have you done with my father?” she managed to mumble through the cloth.
One of the bastards barked a laugh. “Like we would tell you.”
She’d been thrown headfirst into the SUV.
When the vehicle turned, she made a mental note—right turn.
She could probably guesstimate which street she was on and then just keep guessing to get a general idea of location.
She knew Austin like the back of her hand.
She’d gone to the University of Texas at Austin for undergrad and then stayed for grad school.
She’d left to get a change of pace and put some distance between her and her father since he’d spiraled after the boat wreck.
Also, to forget the accident and find a way to move past it to figure out how to keep moving, keep breathing, and keep living her life without getting sucked under by her grief.
It had been hard to do while she’d been watching her beloved father crumble before her eyes.
He’d always been the marshmallow of the family, soft-spoken and kind.
Those were the qualities she’d always loved in her father.
Why was it the tender-hearted people who seemed to always end up in trouble with alcohol or drugs?
Ivy registered a left turn. She couldn’t tell how fast they were going, which made it next to impossible to figure out which street they were on. Another left turn. Then a second. She was losing track.
Hold on. Counting left turns and then right, she calculated that they could be downtown near the capital. Congress Avenue? Near the bridge?
And then the driver accelerated. Highway.
Which direction had they last turned? Ivy couldn’t get her bearings. They could be heading toward San Antonio or Fort Worth.
Or toward any remote area anywhere in between.
Beau white-knuckled the steering wheel of the borrowed pickup.
As much as he appreciated his newfound siblings volunteering to come with him, some things had to be handled solo.
His mother fell into that category. He had questions that needed to be answered in private.
Ones like, had she given away his location, causing him to come to within an inch of losing his life? And…could he trust her?
Did he hate the thought that his own mother could betray him? Hell yes. Did he have to consider the idea anyway? Again, hell yes. Did that gut him to admit? Hell yes.
Emma had questions to answer and some explaining to do. If she’d turned on him, she would have had a reason.
He’d set his GPS to the spot out in East Texas where he was almost certain she’d be.
He’d been driving for a good long while already and had lost track of the time.
He pressed the gas pedal a little harder as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, ignoring the pain in his shoulder where he’d been shot while helping Cassie escape a possessive, jealous, and criminal ex.
Beau checked his sideview mirrors, followed by a glance in the rearview to see if anyone was following him as he navigated through a surprising amount of traffic.
Once he saw an opening, he mashed the gas pedal a little harder to break out of the highway herd.
Being the lead car was the surest way to get caught speeding, but he needed to get to his mother.
She wouldn’t have sent the message after days of silence if she wasn’t in some kind of trouble.
Reality slapped hard. Beau was keenly aware that this could be some kind of setup, so he didn’t respond to his mother’s message. Showing up and getting eyes on the situation was the only way to figure this out.
Questions ran laps around his brain until he neared the campsite where he was almost certain Emma would be.
Rather than running into the site like a charging bull, he pulled over to the side of the road and slowed his speed to search for a good hiding spot.
He wanted to find a place that wasn’t visible from the road but would be easy enough to get to, just in case.
When it came to Emma Rollins, needing an emergency exit was highly likely.
But this time felt different. He could sense it.