scared and confused. It’d sure be nice if we could get her to Meghan sooner rather than later,” Ryan said, hoping his father would take action.
His father glanced at his watch. “I have a few favors I can call in. And she is my granddaughter.”
And Ryan’s niece. “Thanks, Dad.”
His father waved a hand. “Go to Meghan. Tell her how you feel.”
“I will.”
The study door open. Keira rushed in, her eyes wide and panicked. “Dad, Ryan.”
Her agitation knotted Ryan’s gut. “What’s happened?”
“Christina Hennessy’s transport was ambushed. She’s escaped.”
Ryan drove to Meghan’s. He wanted her to hear the news of Christina’s escape from him. Though he’d had a patrol car drive by often, he still needed to make sure she was safe. He parked in front of her cottage, jumped out of his rig and hurried up the walkway.
A stray sandal lay on the ground. A sense of foreboding prickled the tiny hairs at the base of his neck.
He picked it up, frowning at the shoe. Hadn’t Meghan been wearing this at the press conference? A knot of apprehension fisted his gut.
The front door of the cottage was ajar. The splintered wood and broken lock sent a shock of fear jolting through him. Caution made him reach for his holstered weapon at his side. Leading with his gun, he entered the cottage.
“Meghan!”
The end table lay on its side. The contents of Meghan’s purse lay scattered on the floor. The area rug was bunched up. All signs of a struggle.
He locked down all emotion and grabbed his phone. He called his brother Douglas and explained the situation. As he talked he did a quick sweep of the house even though he knew she wouldn’t be there. Someone had taken her. The sight of the half-filled suitcase on her bed disturbed him but he couldn’t let his mind even process that, not when every instinct told him she was in danger.
“We’ll find her, bro,” Douglas said. “I’ll send everyone out. We’ll canvass the area, see if anyone saw something.”
Ryan stepped out on the porch. There were few houses at this end of the beach. His own place was barely visible a quarter of a mile down the shore. “I’m going to check the beach.”
The flutter of paper drew his attention. An ice pick stabbed a note to the porch railing. “Wait a sec. I found something.”
He read the scrawled note. His heart dropped. His self-control crumbled. Panic throbbed in his head. Wykoski had Meghan. The note instructed Ryan to come alone to the cliffs off the Fitzgerald Bay lighthouse if he wanted to see Meghan alive. The same place where they’d found Olivia Henry’s broken body.
“What is it?” Douglas asked.
Ryan lifted his gaze and scanned the street, the beach, the ocean. Was he being watched?
“Wykoski’s got her.” Terror twisted him up inside. His chest squeezed tight until drawing breath was difficult. He jogged to his rig and climbed inside. With tires squealing, he roared down the street. “He wants me to come to the lighthouse cliffs if I want to see her again.”
“You stay put. I’ll be right there. We’ll go together,” Douglas said in a firm tone.
“No time. Already en route. I need to save her. Meet me there.” Ryan hung up and concentrated on driving to the place where this nightmare began.
A terrifying image slammed into his consciousness. An image of Meghan, broken and bleeding at the bottom of the cliffs.
His heart in his throat, Ryan sent up an urgent prayer.
He’d just found the love of his life. Losing her now would be a blow his heart would never recover from.
The sound of the tires against asphalt reverberated in her ears. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness. But her heart cried out against the stiffling confines of the trunk she’d been forced into. She had no idea where Roman was taking her. She was almost afraid to find out.
Meghan prayed fervently, silently.
She lay curled in a fetal position. Plastic ties bound her wrists painfully behind her back. More ties secured her feet together. A foul-tasting cloth stretched across her mouth. She drew in air through her nose. But she couldn’t get enough oxygen. She felt suffocation clawing at her, sending her already frightened senses careening. Beneath her the car vibrated as the tires sped along the pavement.
The car slowed, leaving smooth road for a bumpy, gravel drive. She shifted in the trunk, her hip hitting something hard, the jack, maybe a box of tire chains. Rocks pinged off the undercarriage. Each hit felt like a slap or the ticking of a clock.
The car jerked to a stop. Her heart lurched.
For a moment all was quiet. Except the pounding of her heart. She concentrated. She faintly heard the sound of the ocean crashing on shore, the clang of a buoy marking shallow water. The ocean, but she could be anywhere along the eastern seaboard at this point.
Roman’s threat swirled through her mind, beating down what little hope remained in her heart.
Did he plan to put her on a boat and take her away to sell her as he’d threatened before? Or did he plan to kill her and dispose of her body in the ocean?
The trunk lid popped open. Bright light surrounded her. Blinded her. Meghan winced.
Through squinty eyes, she made out her captor’s silhouette. Rough hands dragged her from the trunk, her stiff and aching body banging with painful thuds against the lip of the trunk, then the bumper, until finally landing in a heap on the ground. Sharp-edged rocks bit into her flesh. Tears stung her eyes. She cried out, but no one could hear her.
Overhead a gull screeched, its cry echoing the scream trapped behind Meghan’s gag.
She glanced around.
Her heart pounded. She knew this place.
They were parked off the main road leading to the Fitzgerald Bay lighthouse. Roman hadn’t taken her far at all. This was the place where Olivia’s body had been found.
The reality of her own fate became crystal clear at that moment. Meghan’s stomach knotted, threatening to upheave the bile churning inside.
He wasn’t going to sell her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t want her so beat-up and bruised. No, he was going to kill her.
Self-preservation kept her calm. If she didn’t do something, she would die. She’d never see Ryan or baby Georgina again.
Roman lifted her in his arms and carried her past the white-and-red-striped lighthouse. She bucked and twisted. Frantic fear clouded her mind.
Unperturbed by her struggling, he followed the path that led to the edge of the jagged bluff. Wind whistled up the wall of stone carrying the briny scent of the water crashing on the ragged rocks below. Was he going to throw her over the cliff?
At the edge, he dumped her from his arms onto the loose, crumbling earth. Rocks and stones slid down the face of the cliff. She shuddered, scooting back from the edge as best she could. She whimpered with terror.
“Now what?” a woman’s strident voice demanded.
Shock snapped Meghan from the debilitating fear. Someone else was here. She arched her body to see who was behind her.
