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.”
