Grant

Grant watched his father sink to a chair as the neurosurgeon left them. His mother was out of surgery. She was going to be fine. Their group had been moved to a special waiting room away from the general one because reporters started showing up. They’d been in their own private hell for four hours. Christ.

The epidural hematoma was not as serious as first diagnosed although they did have to perform surgery to relieve pressure to the brain.

“Thank God. Thank God,” the senator muttered. Grant had a hand on his father’s shoulder and his other arm around Val who was quietly crying in relief. He had to be the rock for his father and sister, so he had blocked out Blaire’s anguished face. He could imagine the guilt she was carrying, but he couldn’t go to her, not when his family needed him more. He didn’t even remember his words to her in the ER. He’d been lost in the horrifying possibility that he could lose his mother because he had chosen to fall in love with Blaire. He couldn’t deal with her too.

“Hey, she’s going to be okay now, Val,” Grant murmured as he kissed the top of his sister’s head.

“Oh, Teddy, I thought we were going to lose her for sure.”

“She’s a fighter,” the senator said, reaching out to Val. Grant handed his sister to his dad. His mother was not out of critical condition yet because of the probability of complications, and there was a possibility she may require a secondary operation. She was in recovery right now. As they waited to see her, he knew he needed to call Blaire and let her know his mother was out of surgery and the prognosis was good. It wasn’t a smart idea for her to come to the hospital just yet, not when he had no clue where his father’s head was regarding his woman. Val—he knew without a doubt how she felt about Blaire, but he’d handle that soon enough. They weren’t sure if it was the ROC or the neo Nazis who were responsible. It could even have been a freak accident.

He frowned when he stepped into the hallway to see cops crawling about in the waiting room. His dad’s security detail was guarding their private room, but his men were nowhere in sight.

“Morris, what’s going on?” All those cops can’t be here regarding Mom’s accident, can they?

“There’s been an incident in the parking lot. Andy was shot.”

“What? How?” Goddammit. Why?

Morris nodded to where Jake was fast approaching, face grim.

“Donovan, what the fuck is going on?” Grant met his head of security halfway. “I heard Andy was shot.” His eyes zeroed in on Tyler who was talking to a Boston cop and his blood iced. “What’s Tyler doing here?” he growled. “I told you to have him take Blaire home. Who’s. With. Blaire?”

“Mr. Thorne …” Jake hesitated.

Grant backed away from him, the distressed look on his man’s face sent a riff of foreboding up his spine. “No,” he whispered. His mind balked at what Jake’s eyes were telling him. “Fuck! No.” He swallowed hard. “Tell me.”

Jake blew out a breath. “Morris saw Blaire leave with Andy, so when Tyler came into the ER to take her home, he went outside to look for them. He was too far away when he saw what happened. A black van stopped behind Andy’s car. Three men jumped out. One of them shot Andy.”

“And Blaire?” Grant asked, his chest tightening as his breathing fractured.

“They took her, Mr. Thorne,” Jake said. He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Grant leaned against the wall, blood draining from his head as fear for Blaire coiled in his gut. However, something wasn’t adding up. “When did this happen? Just now?”

“Three hours ago.”

“Blaire was taken three hours ago and nobody told me?” Grant roared, grabbing Jake by his shirt. “What the fuck, Donovan?”

“What’s going on?” the senator asked, stepping out of the room.

“Blaire was taken,” Grant threw over his shoulder before returning his glare at Jake. He gave his head of security a shake. It was either that or slam him against the wall. “Why the fuck wasn’t I informed immediately when it happened?”

Donovan’s jaw hardened. “You were sequestered in a private waiting room and August Lynch was its gatekeeper. He told us that you and your family were not to be disturbed.”

An anguished roar echoed in the hallway and it was only later that Grant realized it had come from him. He shoved Jake to the side when he spotted Gus. He stalked over to his father’s political advisor, hauled back, and punched the bastard across the face.

* * *

Gus Lynch was lucky the Boston PD was in the ER waiting room or Grant would have killed him. When he learned that his mother had been attacked and was in critical condition, he managed to keep it together for his dad and Val. But when he found out that Blaire had been abducted and that fact had been kept from him for three fucking hours, Grant completely lost it.

Rage. Blinding rage gripped him and despair tore at his guts. His girl was gone. His woman was taken and it was his own fault.

What Grant wanted to know was why Andy removed Blaire from the ER. If the man wasn’t all drugged up, he’d have subjected him to an inquisition. Rather than wait for the Boston PD to obtain a warrant for the surveillance video, Grant used his influence with the hospital administrator to obtain a copy of the footage. Being a major benefactor of the institution had its advantage.

Grant saw how he’d treated Blaire in the waiting room and his heart twisted at how lost she looked. Andy said she’d been planning to leave him. After the hostile reception she’d received from Grant and everyone else in the ER waiting room, he couldn’t blame her. There was a lot he needed to make up for but, first, he needed to get her back. What slayed him the most was the point where she’d given up the struggle after seeing Andy go down. The footage was grainy, but it was obvious she just stopped fighting. It was as if she’d given up. Grant took the blame for that too. I’ll find you, Blaire. Don’t you dare give up hope on us. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Mr. Thorne, your mother is awake.” A nurse approached his huddle with Tyler and Jake.

“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” He looked at Jake. “Find Blaire’s burner. She didn’t have a purse with her at the ER. We need that phone to contact Liam.”

Grant made his way to his mother’s room. He took in a deep breath and schooled his features before he opened the door. Bandages obscured his mother’s head. There was bruising beneath her eyes, but she smiled weakly when she saw him.

His father was standing at the foot of the bed and Val was sitting by her side.

“I thought my son had forgotten me.” Her voice was low and scratchy.

“Had to deal with an issue, Mom.”

“It’s always one thing or another, isn’t it?”

Grant forced a chuckle, but it sounded so hollow, he grimaced.

“Now,” his mother said. “No one will tell me how Blaire is.” She paused, as if she was having difficulty talking. “Is she okay? Was she injured? Where is she?”

The look on Grant’s face said it all.

“Oh no,” she whispered and closed her eyes as if pained. “Where is she?”

“Amelia,” his father said gently. “You must rest, sweetheart.”

“No.” There was steel in her voice. “Why isn’t she here, Grant?”

“She was taken, Mom,” Grant said quietly.

She didn’t even ask by whom. His mother’s lips pressed together as if holding in a well of emotions and then held out her hand. “Oh, Grant …”

He went to her and clutched her hand in his. Her grip was strong. At that moment, she knew her son needed her strength.

“You’ll find her,” she whispered.

He gave a tight nod. “I’m not accepting any other outcome.”

* * *

Soon after leaving his mother’s side, Grant left the hospital with Tyler and Jake. He left one of his men at the hospital just in case the Boston PD had additional information.

“We’ve recovered the senator’s car,” Jake said, getting off the phone. “They’re bringing it into Lowell’s.” Lowell’s Forensics was an independent laboratory used by many federal and investigative agencies. “Are you sure about this, Mr. Thorne?”

“The Boston PD is going to drag their asses on this,” Grant said. “Didn’t they want to rule it as a tire blow out?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not wasting time convincing them otherwise.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts and thumbed a number. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kylie answered. “Grant, how’s your mom? I just heard the news.”

“She’s out of danger but still in ICU.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“We’re trying to piece things together,” Grant said. “Listen, Kyls, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything, Grant.”

“Tyler is going to send you a video. I need you to try and get the number off a license plate.”

“Okaaaay?” Her voice was hesitant.

“And I need you not to ask any questions.”

Silence.

“Are you in trouble?” she asked finally.

“No questions, Kylie. Can you just trust me on this? The less you know, the better. I assure you. What you’re doing for me is not illegal.”

“But you’re going to use the information I give you to do something illegal.”

Grant sighed. “Honestly? I’m not sure at this point. So, are you going to help me?”

“Tell Tyler to send it over.”

“Thanks, Kyls. I owe you.”

He ended the call and checked his messages. “Tyler, send the video footage to Ms. Peterson. I’ll text you her secure FTP site and the credentials.”

No response.

Grant looked up from his phone and felt the sudden tension in the vehicle. “Tyler, did you hear me?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Good.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Tyler replied.

“Why the hell not?” he frowned. “Kylie is the best in her field.”

“So is Lowell’s lab and it’s their specialty. They’re already processing the Bentley, they can process the video,” Tyler said.

“I’m not taking any chances. I know Kylie can do it, so do as you’re told,” Grant ordered. What the hell?

Tyler’s jaw tightened and Grant caught his glare in the rearview mirror. “Do we have a problem, Tyler?”

“I think this is the problem,” Jake broke in as he handed Grant a tablet. “Scroll through the bookmarks.”

A series of tabloid articles featuring he and Kylie stared back at him. “What the fuck,” he muttered. “This is bullshit.” Then a more troubling thought crossed his mind. “Tell me Blaire didn’t see this.”

“She searched for news about you when you stopped talking to her,” Jake derided. “Of course, she saw it.”

“And you did nothing to discourage her?” Grant snapped.

Donovan turned in his seat to face him. “It isn’t my place to restrict Blaire’s access to the internet. If she was messing with the Dark Web, then maybe. I explained to her that Kylie was helping secure our servers. You managed to have lunch, dinner, drinks, and coffee with Ms. Peterson without giving Blaire five minutes of your time.”

This was worse than he thought, Grant groaned inwardly. “I’ve fucked up so bad,” he admitted, and even without his men’s assent, he could almost feel them nodding in agreement. “That Galleria Development needed all my attention.” The only time he could touch base with Kylie regarding the security patches was during those times over a meal, coffee, or drinks. The majority of his time was spent in the suffocating confines of the office and boardroom, but he could see how those tabloid pictures could be misinterpreted.

Grant brought up Kylie’s number to call her back and tell her he didn’t need her help.