She wraps an arm over my waist and moves in close. “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I’m sorry this is all happening.”
“None of this is your fault.”
“Thank you for being here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Beside you is where I belong.” I kiss the top of her head again, then close my eyes and will my brain to shut down long enough that I can get some sleep, too.
Because I have a sinking feeling in my gut that’s telling me tomorrow is going to be a long, long day.
“You’re sure that you’re okay?” Anastasia asks Linda. She’s sitting in the main cabin beside me while I drive, the phone pressed to her ear. “I worry about you. I love you, too.” She looks over at me. “He loves you, too.”
“Love you, Momma Knox!” I call out, trying to keep my tone light despite the weight on my heart. I’d spent all night mentally going over everything we do know, searching for any detail we might have missed.
With Jack still missing, every single second counts.
Anastasia hangs up the phone. “She’s staying on the ranch with Weston. Zane and Tessa are out there, too.”
“That’s good.”
She nods. “No one has heard from Jack. Zane said that the FBI has turned it into a full-blown missing person’s case.”
“They’ll find him.”
“I just hope it’s not too late when they do.”
The phone rings, and Anastasia checks the readout. She pales, her eyes widening as she turns it toward me.
Unknown caller.
Grabbing it, I attach the phone to my laptop and start the software to try to trace the call. “Answer it,” I tell her as I hand it back. “But put it on speaker.”
Her hands shake as she does. “Hello?”
“You are testing my patience, Anastasia.”
“Where is Jack?” she demands.
“You know, it’s funny you should ask. We were just talking about you.”
Someone groans in the background, and Anastasia looks up at me.
“Say hi,” he says. When no one says a word, the sound of a fist slamming into a body comes through the phone. It’s a sound I know well, mostly because I’ve been on the receiving end of said fist.
“Jack?” Anastasia whispers, her tone hopeful.
“Don’t do anything he says,” Jack snarls through the line. “Not a single thing, do you hear me, Anastasia? Sawyer, if you’re there, don’t let—” A man grunts, and Jack’s words are cut short.
“That’s enough,” the man says.
“Let him go. It’s me you want.” Anastasia’s voice is steady—firm.
“Always the intelligent one,” the man says. “I tell you what, you return to town so we can continue our game with fair rules, and I’ll let your FBI boyfriend live.”
Absolutely not.
“Okay,” she agrees without hesitation. “But you have to let him go—alive.”
The man chuckles. “Again. Intelligent. You know, people don’t give you enough credit for being more than a pretty face. And what a pretty face it is.” My stomach clenches, and I try to focus only on tracing the call.
