Reis pulls me upstairs, carrying my laptop in front of him likes it’s a prized possession. I set to work at his computer desk while he paces the room.
“Reis, sit. This isn’t like in the movies. It’s going to take a while.”
He nods and collapses on the bed with a deep sigh.
An hour later, after reading through the case file on Colt’s computer and tracking the emails between him and Geoffrey, I think I’m onto something. We knew that Colt was headed to New Jersey, but now I have an address. His assignment was to gather intelligence on two suspected terrorists, and they’d recently leased on old warehouse, which based on a simple search I discover is vacant and on an isolated country road. Needless to say, it’s very out of the way. Who knows what could be going on there. Certainly nothing good.
McAllister pokes his head inside the doorway. “Find anything?”
“I think I know where he is.”
Reis leaps from the bed and McAllister crosses the room in two strides. They hover over my shoulders, looking at the satellite image of the warehouse.
“I’ll go get him.” McAllister programs the address into his phone.
“No.” I stand. “I need to be the one to get him.”
His face is pure confusion and disbelief. “It’s not safe.”
“I know.” He’s right. It will be dangerous, but something tells me I need to be the one to do this. No matter how much I want to prove to Colt that I’m worth his love, I’m not that dumb. There’s just something nagging inside me that tell me I need to be the one. “I could run into a dead end with this warehouse and I’ll have my laptop. It has to be me. Trust me?”
He nods. “If you’re sure this is what you want, I suppose it’s the least I could do. I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I love my sons – fiercely.” He drapes an arm over Reis’ shoulders.
“I know. I’ll bring him home.”
When McAllister sees I’ve driven the truck here, he insists I take his Jaguar. It’s more reliable than the old truck, and will certainly be faster.
I pull to a stop outside the warehouse and leave the car running. I’ll knock on the door and if someone’s here, I’ll play stupid and say I’m lost and ask for directions. And if no one answers, I plan to sneak in and search for Colt.
I take a few deep breaths and double check the utility knife McAllister shoved in my purse before I left.
The steel door in the front is pad locked with thick chains. Crap. I take a deep breath and knock on the door. My stomach tingles with nerves and my hands are shaking. This feels like a terrible idea. But if someone answers, I remind myself, I’ll fake my best dumb teenage girl who took a wrong turn in Daddy’s car and needs help back to the highway. Of course I’m praying that no one answers and I can get inside and rescue Colt. This will work. It has to.
After knocking for several minutes, no one answers, and I don’t hear any noises from inside. I’m wasting time. If Colt’s not here, I need to move onto plan B. I walk around the side of the building, and drag an upturned crate over to the window, standing on top of it to look inside. The window is too dirty, inside and out to see through. I push against it and miraculously it slides open.
I hoist myself up and through he open window and as I drop to the floor, my only thought before I hit the concrete is,
I ignore a sharp pain that shoots up my spine and inspect my surroundings. The building is dim and completely silent. The large room I’m in is empty, except for various mechanical equipment scattered haphazardly. I scramble to my feet and shuffle across the room to an open doorway. I hug the wall and peer through. The room is small and damp and in a darkened corner sits a lone folding chair, a guy slumped over and tied to it. Colt! My heart pounds erratically. He’s here. I bite my lip and listen for any sounds of movement. The warehouse is eerily silent.
I race toward him, falling at his knees. “Colt,” my voice is little more than a frantic gasp, but it startles him awake. Thank God. He doesn’t appear hurt. His eyes soften when they find mine.
“Taylor. You have to get out of here,” he rasps.
“I’m not leaving you here. Come on.” I pull the blade from my purse and work at sawing through the ropes holding his hands behind his back.
When the rope springs free, his hands drop to his sides and he groans in relief.
“How are you here?” He looks captivated by me, like I’m a mirage, or an angel.
“I hacked into your email and figured out where you were.”
He rises on stiff legs and leans on me for support. We half limp, half jog for the door. He lifts me to the window and I scramble out, anxious until he hoists himself out and drops to the ground.
We climb inside the car and I throw it in reserve and slam on the gas, pining us both against the seats and kicking up gravel in my wake. I hand my phone to Colt and he calls Reis to tell him we’re safe and on our way.
Neither of us speak until we’re about fifteen minutes down the highway.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he whispers, turning toward me. His words stab at my heart. He doesn’t want me here. But then he brings his hand to my jaw line and brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “If something would have happened to you…” he doesn’t finish, but the agony in his voice does wonders to mend the ache in my chest.
Tears blur my vision and double my efforts to focus on the highway, while Colt continues to wrap his fingers around the curls of my hair. He scoots closer and wipes at a tear rolling down my cheek. “Pull over,” he whispers.
I jerk the car to the right, pulling off the highway at an exit for a rest stop. As soon as I wrench it into park, I clamor across the seat and I’m on top of him. I straddle his lap and sob into his chest. “Shh. Shh. I’m okay.” He rubs my back in gentle circles.
“I was so scared.”
“I know. But it’s okay now. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, still rubbing my back, sweeping my hair off my neck.
I cry harder, for everything I’ve lost, but mostly because I’ve lost him. The physical ache to be near him has haunted me for weeks, and now that he’s so close I let myself fall apart in his arms.
A few minutes later I pull myself together and slide from his lap. He doesn’t try and get me to stay, he doesn’t hold my hand, he just lets me go. He turns to me and smiles and a small grin. It’s sort of a sad excuse for a smile, but still it’s something and my heart stirs. “Let me drive,” he says.
We switch seats and Colt pulls back onto the highway, heading north.
The minutes tick by in silence. We don’t even play the radio. I alternate between watching the passing scenery, and watching Colt drive. He rests one hand on the wheel and the other on the console between us. His wrists are red and bruised from where the rope cut into him. I want to reach over and touch the marks on his skin, but I don’t. There’s some barrier that’s been drawn between us. He comforted me when I lost it, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven me for cheating.
A few minutes later the sound of his voice startles me from my private thoughts. “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”
I nod. He pulls off the highway and stops at a drive-thru. He orders our food and we eat in silence in the parking lot. Things haven’t felt this tense between us since when we first met and I couldn’t stand him. Maybe it’s because the roles are reserved, and now he can’t stand to be around me, knowing how I betrayed him with Reis. I eat a few bites, then stuff the food back into the bag.
“Why are you driving my dad’s car?”
“He wanted to come for you himself, but I convinced him to let me instead. He agreed, but told me to drive this since it’s faster.”
He nods, please with my answer.
When Colt’s done eating, he wipes his hands on a napkin and turns to me. “We should probably put a little
