Chapter 17

 

Ward Security had limited customer hours, but there were always employees there to monitor certain security systems. Quinn, especially, spent more of the nighttime hours there, claiming the quiet helped him think. Everyone knew he gamed and nobody cared because the young guy worked his ass off more hours than needed daily.

That night, all was quiet in the IT room where they’d gathered.

Sven, now in jeans and a Ward Security T-shirt, glanced at the clock on the wall. One in the morning and they’d been there for hours as Quinn and Gidget worked to piece together everything they could find. His gut told him that it had to be either Patrick or Kody. Brendon just seemed too stupid to pull this off. All the same, they were watching the social media accounts of all three men to try to locate them.

Gidget’s son slept on the couch in Rowe’s office. She normally didn’t work nights but had insisted on coming in to help. She and Quinn sat in front of their walls of monitors, Geoffrey’s social media accounts open on most of them. He stared as the images of Geoffrey scrolled past, what felt like a permanent knot lodged in his throat. That sweet pain in the ass had to be okay.

He had to be.

Andrei, Dominic, and Royce sat around a large, folding table, combing through print-outs, highlighting anything they thought might help. Cartons of Chinese take-out littered the table.

Everyone here really cared about Geoffrey.

Sven sat close to Quinn, drinking his fourth cup of coffee, his heart aching, but feeling twice its size. They weren’t only here tonight because Geoffrey was a client. Worry darkened their faces and their glances toward him let him know they cared about him as well. Andrei had read him the riot act for leaving the hospital and though anger had twisted his handsome, Romanian features, there had been real concern in those dark eyes.

It hadn’t occurred to him before that the people in his place of work had been becoming true friends.

“Got it!” Quinn suddenly yelled.

Sven winced and grabbed his head.

Quinn instantly chewed on his lip, his expression tight with sympathy. “Sorry.”

“What do you have?” Andrei asked as he stood and came close. He leaned over Quinn’s shoulder to look at the computer.

“His face! That’s what was nagging me because he looked familiar, yet he didn’t.” Quinn pointed at a face on the screen that vaguely looked like Kody. “He colored his hair and got a fucking nose job, but it’s him all right.”

“Who?” Sven growled.

“Nathan McDonald.”

“Oh,” Gidget breathed. “Wow.”

“Who’s Nathan McDonald?” Sven watched as Quinn pulled up an article from Wired. He skimmed it, reading something about an app called Seeking Romeo and how Nathan McDonald had been poised to be next in the young millionaires’ club—although he was a good ten years older than most who first succeeded in earning enough to be included.

Quinn continued. “He was a developer like Geoffrey and he got famous—”

“Infamous, really,” Gidget broke in.

Quinn nodded. “She’s right. Infamous because it turned out he was batshit crazy. He designed a program very similar to Matinee. He mortgaged and sold everything he owned to put together a team to develop it. But before he could sell it, Geoffrey swooped in, an impressive one-man show, and snagged the fattest, juiciest apple.”

Gidget rolled her eyes at the pun.

“McDonald went crazy. He fired everyone, burned down the building and disappeared. I guess we know where he went now.” Quinn chewed on his lip again. “I hate that someone like him has Geoffrey. If he’s still that unhinged, and he’d have to be after pulling this plan off for so long, he’ll do a lot worse than that video and that video made me sick.”

Sven briefly shut his eyes, then glared at Quinn.

“Way to go, Brainiac,” Gidget breathed. She stood and came over to put her hand on Sven’s shoulder. “This is good news, Sven. We know who has him and we know the likeliest place where.” She looked at Quinn. “Right?”

Quinn, looking contrite, said softly. “I think we do. And maybe we can get to him before anything happens.” He typed briefly on the keyboard and then pointed at a spot on one of the large monitors hanging on the wall. He zoomed as close as he could. “Google Earth. Nobody has taken any pictures of this small road, so I can’t get a street view, but this is the only property that we can link to McDonald. It’s an old farmhouse. It’s the only thing he had left. Probably didn’t sell it because it isn’t worth much.”

“Where is that?” Andrei demanded as he stepped closer to the screen, his arms folded over his chest.

“It’s Steep Creek Road. Listed as part of Independence, Kentucky.”

“I know it,” Royce said, drawing everyone’s eyes to him. “It’s real middle of nowhere. Just north of Visalia. Not far from old White’s Tower.”

“Give us a rundown of the terrain.”

Sven couldn’t help but notice that Royce looked uncomfortable being the focus of everyone’s attention as he stepped up to the monitor. The man preferred the shadows over being the center of attention.

“Zoom out a bit, squirt,” Royce said. Quinn muttered something under his breath but did as Royce instructed. “Steep Creek is a narrow, single-lane road that runs east to west. Old, broken asphalt. There are hills and steep drop-offs in spots on either side of the road, but there are also breaks of semi-flat ground of a few acres where people have built farms. The homes are widely spaced. You’d barely be able to see the lights of your neighbor’s house and never during the summer. What’s not flat ground is completely covered in trees.”

“Going in, we’re going to have cover,” Dominic said from where he leaned his hip against the table.

“Likely up until the last hundred yards or so to the house. Maybe even more if he hasn’t used this house. The brush surrounding the area close to the house could be thick.”

“How long has it been since you were last down this road?” Andrei asked.

“Years.” Royce shook his head, frowning. “But this area, there’s nothing there. Ain’t never going to be anything there. Just a black fucking hole in the earth. It hasn’t changed.”

“Geoffrey’s there,” Sven said. He knew it. That lonely house in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect hiding place.

“It’ll take about forty-five minutes to get there,” Royce said.

Even less time from Geoffrey’s place.

Which meant Nathan would’ve already had hours to hurt Geoffrey.

Acid boiled in Sven’s throat as he jumped into motion. He stormed out of the room and down the stairs to the room where Ward stored all the weapons and gadgets, Andrei at his heels. Dominic and Royce followed close behind them. No words were spoken as each man grabbed a duffle and began gathering supplies. Sven began checking weapons, while Dominic handed out earpieces for easy communication.

They all trained for this with Rowe and Noah. Their job was simple protection, but the former Rangers saw that they had the skills for much bigger operations, things that weren’t in the usual job description for bodyguards. Sven never argued or questioned. He welcomed the new skills, thinking that he’d never actually use them.

But deep down, he’d known better. He’d heard whispers and rumors of the rescue mission Rowe and some of his friends went on to save Andrei’s life. He’d heard a little more about the infiltration of a secret camp to rescue kidnapped kids led by Rowe and Noah.

Sven just prayed that he’d learned enough from the two men because there was no way he was returning home without Geoffrey.

Right before they hit the door leading to the garage and the SUV’s, Quinn yelled, “Stop!”

He came running down the stairs, a large tablet in one hand. He skidded to a halt and Sven’s stomach flipped over when he saw that all the color had left Quinn’s face—even after the run.

“I’m so sorry, but you guys have to see this.” He turned the tablet around.

The small amount of Chinese food Sven had managed to swallow raced up into his throat. He held his hand over his mouth as he stared at the horror on that screen.

Quinn cleared his throat. “He’s hacked into all of Geoffrey’s social media accounts and even some of those belonging to his friends.”

“Is this live?” Andrei asked, his voice raspy.

Quinn nodded. “He’s livestreaming. Everywhere.”

Sven stopped hearing their words as they all started talking around him. All he could focus on was the single image of Geoffrey lying on a bed. Small and so fucking…still.

“Can you tell if he’s breathing?” he whispered.

Nobody heard him. They kept talking.

“Is he still fucking breathing?” he yelled so loudly, they all stopped.

Quinn nodded. “He is, Sven. Look.” He pointed to Geoffrey’s hand, which lay palm up next to his defenseless, naked body. As Sven stared, his fingers twitched.

Quinn handed him a piece of paper. “Look at the old wallpaper. That room looks like it could be in a farmhouse about the age of the one McDonald owns. Here’s the address.”

“We’ll put it into the GPS.” Andrei squeezed Sven’s arm, then let him go. “Let’s hit the road. Now!”

“Want me to call the police?” Quinn asked, but his expression tightened. It wasn’t the first time Sven had noticed his dislike of all things related to the police department.

“You won’t need to,” Andrei said. “The police are supposed to be watching Geoffrey’s social media accounts. They’re seeing this too.”

“If the police call, take your time handing over the address,” Sven said, tone firm. “I want him.” His coworkers—his friends—followed behind him as he ran for the vehicles.