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“Because if they get involved, I won’t be able to find and rescue her.” He paused. “Trust me. I will find her and deal with the people who took her.”
A lot of unspoken things lay in that sentence and Anne’s father didn’t immediately answer. When he did, Blane knew he understood.
“Do that. Find my daughter and make them pay.” His voice was hard.
“I’ll do that. Trust me.” Blane ended the call.
He made another phone call. Kade answered.
“Anne’s been taken.”
Kade didn’t waste time on surprise. “From?”
“Her house. And they have decent security over there. Had to be professionals.”
“No surveillance footage?”
“They only have cameras outside and they were disabled.” Blane was holding it together. Barely. “We have to find her. Fast.”
“I know. I’ll get on the traffic cams and call you back.”
The call ended.
His next call was to Linda. “Cancel my schedule for today,” he told her. “An emergency has come up.” He didn’t elaborate.
Blane paced his study, frustrated that there was nothing he could do yet. He poured two fingers of scotch and downed it.
He took out his Glock and began cleaning it and loading two spare magazines.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the phone rang. Kade.
“Found her. Does the name Travis Mullond mean anything to you?”
Blane wracked his brain. “Not off the top of my head.”
“Well, she was taken to his McMansion about five miles from you.”
Relief flooded Blane. She was close.
“I need backup.”
“Done. Be there in fifteen. I’ll bring more.”
He was true to his word, pulling up less than fifteen minutes later in two SUVs.
Blane armed up and dressed in full black. He checked his Glock and also grabbed his Sig.
Blane slammed the loader into his Glock. “Let’s go,” he said to Kade. He harnessed his anger. He couldn’t wait to channel it right into the bastard that had taken Anne. It had already been almost twelve hours. God help the sonovabitch if Anne or the baby were dead.
He wanted blood.
Two of his Secret Service agents spotted them as they were heading out. They were having coffee in the kitchen and when they saw Blane and Kade, they jumped to their feet.
“Simpson, Buckner,” Blane acknowledged them. “I’m going out for a while.”
“Sir, we can come with you,” Simpson said, his eyes roving over their clothes, his gaze lingering on the guns.
“That won’t be necessary.”
