Chapter 45
Pierce
Itake the turn into the parking garage too quickly, nearly hitting a blue sedan.
I look down each stall for Thea’s car, breathing a sigh of relief when I spot it on the second level.
I slide into the first opening I see and race for the car.
It’s empty, and the doors are locked. At least she finally took some precautions.
She must be inside.
I sprint into the office building. I don’t wait for the elevator, taking the stairs instead. I could run a four-minute mile with the pent up energy inside me. She better be in there. I have questions, and she better have the answers. I’ll get them out of her one way or another.
And no, my brain didn’t just consider kissing as a form of torture to get her to confess.
Shoving through the front doors I nearly slide into the front desk. “Gavin Johnson. Now.”
The woman looks startled. “I’m not his receptionist.”
“What floor?”
“He’s a really busy man.”
I stomp past her to the building directory. Top floor. The boss with a dominant position, ruling from the top. Imagine that.
I bypass the elevator for the stairwell as I hear the woman calling for security. I could have been nicer, but I’m fresh out of patience. I hit the stairwell with speed, racing up the flights.
I sprint up the last two floors, bursting into the sunlit office space like a fugitive who just escaped lockup.
“I need to see Gavin Johnson,” I say.
The receptionist peers at her computer, then back up at me. “He’s… uh, not in at the moment.”
That answer isn’t good enough. “Was there a woman here to see him? Short, blonde, lots of freckles?”
She purses her lips as if she can’t decide how to answer. I read her nonanswer as an affirmative.
“Where did she go?”
“She and Mr. Johnson both left.”
I clench my fists. “Together?”
“No.”
Thea’s car didn’t leave, which means someone took her. My money is on Gavin. I mentally slap myself for taking so long to come after her. She only had a twenty-minute head start on me—that could be a lifetime in situations like this.
“I need to look at your security tapes.”
She gapes. “Excuse me?”
“Now. Parking garage, please.”
She does not pull up the security tapes—she calls security. I don’t have time for this. I grab my wallet, reaching for the card I haven’t used in six years and technically shouldn’t even have on my person. I guess there’s more of my grandpa in me than I thought. I shove it in her face. “CIA.”
She blanches.
“Security feeds, please.”
“I’ll uh… I’ll have security take you there.”
Two minutes later, I’m deposited in their security room, hand on the mouse, searching for Thea.
There are only two cameras in the parking garage—at the elevator and at the exit.
I speed up the frames. When Thea got here, it was the beginning of the work day; fifty cars entered.
Thea went inside. Twenty minutes later, Thea comes back out, being escorted by a large man with tattoos, but he doesn’t look like security.
Gavin comes down two minutes later with the same guy and another one and leaves in one of the two cars that exited ten minutes ago.
A black sedan, the driver unidentifiable.
The second sedan, dark blue, lower to the ground, a better angle caught the profile of a man.
It’s not a good picture, and I’m almost positive it’s not Gavin, but something about the man is familiar.
I take a picture of both license plates and the man in the blue sedan and send them to Noah.
I sprint from the security office, calling Noah as I go. “I just sent you some photos. I need facial rec on one now. And I need info on those license plates and a Gavin Johnson.”
“What’s going on, man?”
“One of those men just kidnapped Thea.”
Noah curses. “Let me see what I can find. Give me five.”
“Are you close?”
“An hour out. I’ll tell my rookie to step on it.” He hangs up.
Anything can happen in five minutes. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait that long.
My phone rings less than a minute later. “Give me something, Noah,” I say, my feet pounding against the cement of the parking garage. “Did you run facial rec?”
“It’s Cole Dutton.”
It takes me a half a second to understand what he’s saying and when I do, I almost run straight into the back of a car. “As in CIA, Cole Dutton?” As in the reason I left the CIA.
“The one and only.”
What on earth is he doing here? Cole was furious I turned him in, but it changed nothing.
The agency chose him over me. Though he still holds a grudge and would surely do anything to see my downfall.
How would he even know I’m connected to this?
I have no doubt he’s after the formula for the money, but did he take Thea, or did the passengers in the other vehicle?
The guy from the hotel in Bakersfield was working with someone in the CIA. Cole. “See if he’s the one who hired that guy from the mob.” I grind my teeth together. “Do you have anything else?”
“Not yet.”
I need answers, and I need them faster. “Did he take a government car? Can you track his phone?”
“No to both. He’s off-grid.”
Of course he is. He’s not stupid.
I need someone else. Someone bigger. Someone I swore I’d never need again.
I need my grandpa.