It took everything she had, but Nicole nodded. “I trust you.”

  He squeezed her hands, and for a moment she wanted to throw herself into his arms. She wanted to have him hold her as she curled into a ball and sobbed out all the fear and grief and rage. To have him tell her that everything would be okay, that they were going to find Grant, that he’d be safe. She’d believe him if he told her.

  But that wasn’t an option. Not for her, and not with Michael. He needed to work, to find her son, which meant she had to keep it together. She couldn’t go dumping all of that on him. So Nicole eased her hands away, and hugged her arms to her chest, nodding.

  Michael stood, pulling out his phone as he strode over to the kitchen table, where he’d already set up his laptop. She heard Michael’s voice, the low, urgent rumble in the other room. He seemed to be talking to someone about tracing her phone, but she couldn’t really follow the conversation. The words swam in her head.

  Nicole realized she was shaking. She hugged her arms to her chest, tighter, nails digging into her skin.

  Next to her, Destroyer whimpered, touching his cold nose to her hand. Again, she felt the urge to reach out and pet him, but this time, she actively pushed the urge away. She was afraid that if she let herself reach out, let go, even a little, she’d shatter. The dog regarded her for a moment with its large, sad eyes, then padded silently up the stairs. He came down again a few moments later, trailing the blanket from Grant’s bed. Destroyer pooled it at her feet, then rested his head on her knee, with a soft whimper.

  The ragged thread of her control snapped, and Nicole pressed a hand to her face, trying to force back the sobs that racked her.

  She was such a hypocrite, Nicole realized, insisting that Michael was the one who had trouble letting people in. She never let anyone in, never really let her guard down. She’d always been the strong one—always told herself that she’d had to be, that she was the one who was supposed to take care of other people which meant that she could never openly share her own pain. She only let herself get close to people like Holly and Charlotte, like Emma, who gave her support without her ever having to ask. But even with her closest friends, she still held too much back. Because asking for help, for support, meant letting her guard down. Letting herself be vulnerable, however much it hurt. She’d never been good at that.

  It was how she survived. When she’d lost the baby, when she’d cut Michael out of her life. When Emma had died. She’d forced herself to be strong, and to get through it. Up until now, it had always worked.

  But this...this was too big, too strong. It was a tide, crashing over her—the fear and the panic and the grief—and she couldn’t find the surface. She couldn’t breathe. She could only think, Michael.

  She needed Michael.

  It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she stood. And went to him.

  18

  Michael strode to the kitchen table and tossed his phone on the counter, fighting the urge to check his phone again. Whoever took Grant would call when they called, and until then, all he could do was wait—and try to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head that said this wouldn’t have happened if he’d bitten the bullet and called in backup, if he’d made certain that Nicole and Grant had someone trained and ready keeping an eye on each of them at all times. If he’d admitted that Ken and Easton were right—that Nicole had been right. If he’d stopped being such a stubborn jackass and hired Maloney.

  Focusing on his mistakes wouldn’t do anything to fix them—and it wouldn’t change the mess they were in right now. Processing his regrets could wait until later. For now, he had to deal with the situation at hand. But the problem was the next step wasn’t his to make. All he could do was wait for the kidnapper to contact them again.

  Michael was no stranger to waiting. He’d meant what he’d told Nicole earlier. Waiting was part of every mission. You got used to it. After a certain point, you learned how to use it, turning that frustration gnawing away at your gut into determination. But something about this time was different. It was Grant who was in danger, Grant who—

  He stopped that thought. He couldn’t—wouldn’t allow himself to think it. They were going to find Grant, and they were going to get him back, safe and sound. And after that Michael was going to hunt down whoever was behind all of this and put an end to them.

  The surveillance cameras hadn’t picked up the kidnapper—either on their way in, or out. Which meant they’d parked a distance away and made their way towards the cabin through the woods. To Michael, that indicated that they’d been expecting the cameras, or were just extremely cautious.

  The cameras had picked up the brief struggle at the fence. Michael grit his teeth so hard he tasted blood as he watched the way Grant had kicked and tried to cling to the chain links while Destroyer threw himself at the kidnapper. Identification was going to be tough—n the bastard had worn a hat, with the brim pulled low, and sunglasses to conceal most of his face. But from what Michael saw, the man was about medium height and just above feather-weight. Though he clearly had a wiry strength, judging from how he kicked Destroyer away and hauled Grant off.

  Before Michael could stop himself, he snatched his phone up to check it again. Nothing. Come on, you bastard. Call. There had to be something—

  The kidnapper had Nicole’s burner—had used it to text Michael. He was using a burner himself—there was no way the kidnapper could have known his number…but it had been stored in Nicole’s phone. They could use that, he realized. If they tracked the phone’s GPS—

  Michael got his laptop, quickly setting it up at the kitchen table. They always made sure they could track the GPS signals of the burners they handed out to clients, just in case of situations like this. But we turned it off, he thought, grinding his teeth. For Nicole and her friends, they’d disabled GPS so no one could use the phones to track their locations. An extra layer of safety—and a necessary one, since Nicole’s phone also had the numbers she used to contact her friends. He shot off quick texts to Ken and Easton, updating them on the situation and on the danger, warning them to make sure the women’s phones were secure and that all tracking functions stayed turned off.

  Then, he dialed the Aegis Security tech person.

  It took a few rings for her to answer, as Michael rapped his knuckles impatiently against the table. “What’s up, boss?” Sam yawned.

  “I need you to turn on the GPS for Nicole Zito’s burner. I need to be able to track its location.”

  “Okay, sure.” Another yawn echoed across the phone line, but the next time she spoke Sam’s voice was more alert. “I’m assuming since you’re asking to track the location that it’s not with you, and you need me to turn it on remotely.”

  “Yes,” Michael said shortly.

  “That is going to be a little tricky,” Sam said. “If the phone is on and it’s connected to the Internet via its data plan, I can potentially track it down that way, triangulating its location. At the very least, it can give us a general area—as long as the person using it isn’t in a speeding car, or something. But turning on the GPS remotely means—to use official hacker lingo—a lot of fancy computer stuff, which means it’s going to take some time. But if you’re calling this early—”

  “It’s 11 a.m., Sam,” Michael growled.

  “You know I work better at night,” she said, unflustered. “Besides, time is a societal construct. Anyway, like I was saying, if you’re calling at this hour, then I’m assuming it’s important.”

  “A kid’s life is at stake,” Michael said shortly. Grant’s life.

  There was a brief pause. “I’m going to need to head into the office. Get to my equipment there,” Sam said, the cheerfully casual tone from before completely gone. Now she sounded all-business, and fully focused on the task at hand. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”

  There was a brief surge of victory as Michael hung up. He trusted Sam. She was good. Better than good—if anyone could manage the task, Sam could. Which was the only reason Michael wasn’t immediately calling her back to see if she’d been able to do it yet.

  But the horrible restlessness was already edging its way back in. He was back to waiting for a phone call—waiting to see if there was something he could do. Logically, he knew that he’d done everything he could. Either Sam would get back to him first, or the kidnapper would. Either way, all he could do now was sit here. Staring down his computer screen as he willed a location to pop up.

  Michael stood abruptly, chair legs screeching against the floor as he started to pace. He needed to move, to do something, but all he could do was wait.

  “Michael.” Nicole’s voice stopped him, wavering and broken. She was standing in the doorway, a blanket that he recognized from Grant’s room clutched between her fingers, looking like a shadow of herself. Seeing her like that shook Michael to his core. He’d never imagined his fierce, unshakeable Nicole could look like that. She was always indomitable.

  Michael immediately crossed over to her, his heart lurching at the broken, glassy look clouding her eyes. “What is it?”

  “I-I need...could you hold me?” Her voice was so soft, Michael wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Please. I know we’re not together, I’m not trying to…” She stopped, voice breaking. “I just—I really need you to hold me right now.”

  Michael didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He pulled her in close, and she sank against him. The blanket puddled between them as her fingers grasped his shirt, and he felt the tremors running through her as she fought to suppress sobs. There was one thing he could do, Michael realized, pulling her closer, letting her lean on him.

  “Tell me everything’s going to be okay,” Nicole pleaded.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” Michael told her.

  “I can’t lose him.” It came out ragged and desperate.

  “You won’t.” He wouldn’t let that happen. “We’ll get him back. Safe. I promise.”

  Something inside her seemed to break, and she started sobbing—ugly, gutting sobs that shook her whole body. Michael held her close as her legs gave way, and they sank down to the floor, Nicole curling up in his arms. He wished there was something more he could do than hold her, stroke her hair, as she fell apart.

  Michael had never seen her like this before. She’d never let him. He thought about only two weeks ago, when they’d gotten here. That first night, after she’d gotten that email threatening her shop, how she’d pulled away when he’d tried to comfort her.

  He realized how right it felt, even in the middle of this nightmare, to hold her. In the midst of all of this horror, she’d needed someone, and she’d come to him. Trusted him. That was something she’d never done before.

  Deep down, Michael knew he’d always trusted her, but he’d never felt like she trusted him. He’d always known, even when they were first together, that she’d held part of herself back. Never let herself be completely vulnerable around him, even for a few minutes. She’d always fought so hard for control, had been so determined never to “burden” anyone she cared about with her doubts or fears.

  She wasn’t the same woman he’d known. The Nicole he’d loved back then would’ve never let herself break down in front of him. She’d changed.

  And so had he. It seemed like eons ago that his only concern had been keeping his heart safe—making sure she couldn't hurt him again. Now he only wanted to be there for her, in any way he could. He loved her. Her and Grant. Now that they were in his life, he couldn’t imagine it without them.

  He needed to keep them safe. Whatever it took. Even if it meant admitting that he’d been wrong.

  Nicole’s sobs had quieted, but Michael didn’t let her go. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m going to take care of you. Both of you.”

  “How? Grant is—”

  Michael brushed the hair out of her face. “I’m going to get some help. I’m bringing in Jed.”

  She blinked up at him, surprise clear in her dark eyes. “What?”

  “You were right.” And so were Ken and Easton. “I’ve been stubborn and wrong, not giving anyone a second chance.” But if she could change, then so could he. Letting go of his old prejudices and doubts would be the easiest thing in the world if it meant protecting the family he loved with all his heart.

  19

  Jed was there within the hour. To his credit, he hadn’t wasted any time asking irrelevant questions, and there’d been only the slightest hesitation when Michael offered him the job. Michael had been prepared to do whatever it took to get Jed to agree, up to and including getting down on his knees to beg, but it hadn’t been necessary. After a brief pause, Maloney told him he was on his way. Michael was a little surprised to hear a car pulling up so quickly after he’d called, but after checking on his equipment that it was Jed, he headed over to the front door and swung it open.

  Jed seemed to brace himself a little when he saw Michael, but he scraped his boots on the welcome mat and gave Nicole a brief nod as he entered. “Ma’am.”

  Nicole had been sitting on the sofa. When Jed entered, she stood and crossed over to him, holding out a hand. “Please, call me Nicole. Thank you so much for coming. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  Jed looked a little awkward as he gave Nicole’s hand a brief shake. “Happy to help.” For someone who’d been out of the military for several years now, it didn’t seem like civilian life had really changed anything about Jed Maloney. He’d always been a bulldog of a man, broad-shouldered and solidly muscled, rarely smiling even when he was amused. Most of the men and women Michael knew tended to go a little soft after leaving service, but Maloney looked as fit as ever. His hair was still in the same close buzz cut as when they were in, and he was holding himself almost at attention as he glanced around the cabin. There was a ragged scar along one side of his face, the result of the mission that had gone badly—the one where some of their teammates had died. The scar was the least of it, Michael knew. The explosion had damaged Jed’s hearing, enough that he’d been discharged on a medical basis. A quick glance revealed the small hearing aid tucked in Jed’s left ear.

  Destroyer padded over to Jed, who regarded the dog evenly as it sniffed at him, and then slipped back to station itself by Nicole. Destroyer had been shadowing her ever since they’d gotten back to the cabin.

  “You got here quick,” Michael remarked.

  Jed shrugged, not quite meeting his eye. “Ken might’ve mentioned something about this operation, and you possibly needing help. He asked me to stay close, just in case.”

  “Did he?” Michael wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed with Ken or grateful. He decided on grateful. He had been a stubborn son of a bitch about this, and if it meant he got help when he needed it, Michael wasn’t going to complain.

  “How long since you’ve heard from the kidnapper?” Jed asked.

  “A little over two hours,” Michael said. “But Sam—our tech person—she thinks she might be close to—”

  His phone rang. Nicole was there in an instant, grasping his hand tightly as the number flashed on screen. The call was coming from Nicole’s burner phone—the phone now in the kidnapper’s possession. Michael exchanged a look with Jed as he answered, putting the call on speaker so everyone could hear.

  “Good afternoon. Am I speaking to Nicole Zito, or her friend?” The voice was cool and business-like.

  “We’re both here,” Michael said. “Who the hell is this?”

  “You may call me Payson. Though, at the moment, names are not important. The important thing is that I’m the person who has Ms. Zito’s child.”

  “Is he all right? What did you do to him?” Nicole demanded, her fingers grasping Michael’s tight enough to hurt.

  “Let me assure you that your son is perfectly safe,” the man replied. “For the moment.”

  “If you hurt him—”

  “Believe me, I have no interest in hurting your son. I will,” the man informed them, so matter-of-fact it made Michael’s blood boil, “if there’s no other option. But I’m hoping that won’t be necessary.”

  “What do you want?” Michael bit off.

  “I’m a businessman. I’m proposing a simple exchange. We all know the child has none of the information that I need. Ms. Zito does. I am willing to exchange the child for Ms. Zito.”

  Over his dead body would he leave Nicole in the hands of someone so cold-blooded. From the way the man spoke, it was clear that this Payson was a killer for hire. He’d have no qualms about torturing Nicole to get information out of her—and wouldn’t hesitate to kill her once he’d gotten everything he needed. The thought of that man anywhere near the woman Michael loved was enough to turn his stomach. But he couldn’t ignore that Grant was in this man’s control right now. They had to play nice—at least on the surface—until they’d gotten the boy to safety.

  “I need proof that Grant is alive and unharmed,” Michael demanded.

  “I’ll text you a picture. The exchange will take place in thirty minutes, so please don’t waste your time attempting to contact the authorities. There’s no way they’d be able to get to you in time, and we both know it. I’ll text you the location of where Ms. Zito and I are to meet. Normally, I’d say that you are to come alone, Ms. Zito, but in this case, I’m making an exception. I’m well aware of your protector’s background and abilities. If I tell you to come alone then it seems all too likely to me that he’ll tag along, hidden from sight, and attempt to capture or subdue me while I’m distracted. No, I think it’s best that he remains with you, fully in sight, where I can keep an eye on him. It’s best for your son that way, too. Instead of being abandoned alone, in a strange location, he’ll get into the car with Mr. Rinaldi. And then they’ll leave. And you’ll stay—with me.” There was the faint lilt of amusement in that calm, pleasant voice. “That way, everyone’s happy. Do you agree to these terms?”