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She realized she cared about him. Very much. And he’d given her way more space than she’d wanted or believed he would ever grant her.
It hurt.
But maybe now wasn’t the time to mention it. She needed to stay focused on her father, and she sensed something weighing on Cutter, too.
“Thinking. Sorry.” She tried to smile, despite the nagging worry about Daddy’s health plaguing her.
Would the sunrise bring shining new hope for his recovery or cast a glaring light on her harsh new reality without him?
Cutter was right; she needed to be optimistic. The trick right now, when hope seemed razor thin, was to stay distracted. “You were saying something before Dr. Gale talked to us. You’ll be someplace on Friday, other than the church’s fall market?”
Cutter’s face tightened. “I don’t know if now is the time to talk about this.”
“If it will keep me from fixating on my father, please.”
He looked away with a grimace, then sighed. “I may be in Mexico come Friday. Walker went there almost three weeks ago on a mission. He was taken at gunpoint in a parking lot by a cartel. We might finally have a lead on his location. If it pans out, we’ll be bugging out to extract him ASAP.”
As soon as his words registered, Brea’s heart—and her world—stopped. Panic ensued. Pierce had been abducted? The big, seemingly invincible warrior with the one-mile kill shot had been overpowered and taken prisoner? No. She couldn’t picture it. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t stand it.
She heaved in a breath made more ragged by the crushing pain spreading through her chest. It wracked her system. Tears stung her eyes. Any calm she’d found since before Cutter entered the emergency room vanished.
“Oh, my… A-a cartel? Is he even…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence. She could barely breathe past her distress.
He had to be alive. She needed him to be alive.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Please, God, let him be all right.
But what were the odds that an organization fueled by illegal drugs, money, and greed would keep a hostage alive for weeks?
“I don’t know. We’re hoping.” But Cutter sounded grim. “The information we’ve collected is sketchy, and with every passing hour it’s getting older. But it’s more than we had to go on yesterday.”
Brea clung to hope. She had to. If she let herself imagine where Pierce was and what he was enduring, she would melt down. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I didn’t know he was in danger. I didn’t have any idea. I would have prayed for him or…”
Something. She would have done something. Honestly, anything. But what could a small-town hairdresser really do to save the man she cared for way more than she ought to from a cartel?
“I didn’t want to bring him up after…you know, everything that happened. You did your best to save me, and you betrayed yourself to do it. I hate how much pain it caused you.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. He—”
“Don’t.” Cutter held up his hands. “Don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t deserve it.”
The guilt was still eating him alive. “Don’t ever think you’re unworthy. There’s no reason for that. And I don’t regret a thing.”
Brea didn’t say more. Cutter wasn’t ready to hear that some part of her heart belonged to Pierce and probably always would.
Cutter closed his eyes with a sigh. “As much as I hate to admit it, as much as I hate who he is and what he’s done, he’s saved my life twice. My bosses are absolutely losing their shit over this. I have to go. I have to help.”
Even though he despised Pierce, Cutter insisted on being a part of his rescue. Because he was a good man.
“Please. Promise me you’ll do whatever you can. Whatever you have to…” She grabbed Cutter’s hands. “Bring him home.”
He nodded. “I know how you feel about brutality and senseless death. Even if Walker’s record is hardly spotless, you would never want more violence or wish anyone dead.”
All of that was true…but hardly her rationale. She missed Pierce fiercely. Needed him. And she was sickeningly, painfully worried about him. Maybe she hadn’t pictured a life with him—except occasionally, late at night when she missed him like mad. But it nearly killed her to imagine a world without him.
“Let me know as soon as you have any word. And you keep safe, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He managed a smile for her. “Now call Mrs. Collins. I really think she’d want to be here.”
It took all her will, but Brea managed to block out her terror and focus on mundane but important tasks. It turned out that Cutter was right. Jennifer didn’t hesitate to jump out of bed, toss on her clothes, and drive through the black night. Tears sheened her eyes when she raced through the doors. The woman sobbed. Brea joined her as they clung together through the long wait for news.
