Both were FBI agents. And both had come running to help the instant their BKI partners had put out the call.
As for Hew? Well, his forte was flying and fighting. And for now, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to further their cause of finding Sabrina by taking to the air or greasing his gun.
So, instead, he paced.
And he worried.
And he tried not to let his sense of helplessness and rage grow into an all-consuming apoplectic fit.
Forcing himself to drag in a ragged breath, he vaguely noted the scents of metal grit and polished chrome. They were familiar smells. Solid smells. Generally comforting smells.
He found no relief in them now.
Black Knights Inc. wasn’t home, it wasn’t whole, without Sabrina. And he couldn’t help but remember that well-known little nugget that said the first twenty-four hours after an abduction were the most critical. After that, the chances of recovery decreased significantly.
We’ve wasted too much time, he thought bitterly. Precious goddamn time.
Time waiting for the highway patrol to do their wellness check. Time bringing the team up to speed. Time debating options. Time trying to convince the president and Eliza’s coldhearted father to help.
And all the while she’s been stuck out there. Stuck with fucksticks doin’ who knows what to?—
No.
He couldn’t let his mind wander to what she might be suffering. If he did, that valley of fear opening up inside him would become the Grand Canyon. And that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Sabrina.
He flipped his wrist and saw his watch read 10:57. He waited and waited and waited, but it felt like an eternity before the seven turned into an eight.
He was going to implode. Explode? He needed a course of action. He needed something because his inaction was killing him faster than any bullet ever could.
Grace shoved her phone into her hip pocket and turned to address the room.
“I had a buddy inside the bureau run the prints the local police took off Sabrina’s car.” When she saw the alarm on some of their faces, she quickly added, “This is strictly off books. So rest easy.”
Right. Because saving the world always came with an asterisk at BKI. Now, saving the girl came with an asterisk, too.
Instead of doing all this out in the open, they had to do their work where they always did it. In the shadows. They had to protect their covers. Protect the shop. Protect the motherfucking president and her chief of staff because?—
“The only prints on the car are hers, yours”—Grace tilted her head toward Hew—“and Martin Massey’s.”
Hearing Martin’s name, knowing the too-pretty bastard had touched Sabrina’s Prius—maybe been inside at some point?—made Hew’s hands curl into tight fists.
Julia followed up Grace’s announcement with, “Paint from her rear bumper’s been sent to a friend of mine who works in the local lab. She’s running an off-the-books analysis to see if she can narrow down the make and model of the vehicle that appears to have rear-ended Sabrina. Says she’ll have something for us in two hours.”
Two hours…
Fuck!
Even with the feds calling in favors, nothing was moving fast enough. Then, like a grenade exploding in his mind, the answer to all their problems suddenly presented itself. And he couldn’t believe it’d taken him this long to think of it.
He hated the idea. He hated everything about it. But it didn’t matter how he felt. Because it was Sabrina. It was for Sabrina.
Drawing in a slow breath, he released it on a windy sigh and pushed the name out of his mouth. “Martin.”
“Huh?” Samuel Harwood said from the rolling chair beside Ozzie. Sam was a former Marine Raider, a native Chicagoan, and the biggest fan the White Sox could ever hope for. He’d been scouring the files on the Charleston cartel responsible for killing Sabrina’s brother in the off chance they’d missed something that had led her to her abduction. But now he stared at Hew quizzically.
“Sabrina’s…” Hew’s gut turned sour at the thought of speaking aloud the next word. “Boyfriend. Or…would-be boyfriend. Or whatever the hell he is to her.”
Billionaire, savior, pain in my ever-lovin’ ass.
