“Why can’t I drive?” he asked, reluctantly buckling his seatbelt. Bossy witch.

“Because it’s my truck. You might not have noticed, but the angrier you get, the faster you drive. It’ll be safer this way.”

“I’m a perfectly capable driver, no matter the circumstance,” he mumbled. He couldn’t argue with Tansy’s logic any more than that, though. Truth was, driving provided a distraction from his tumbling thoughts. Where was Daphne at this very moment? Had Wingate physically harmed her? She must be so scared and confused.

“Talk to me,” he suddenly demanded.

“About what?”

“Anything. What did you think of Ruby? Did she tell you anything she didn’t tell me?”

“I merely probed about Daphne’s recent behavior. Apparently, she’s been a bit more nervous and unusually secretive the past few weeks. You hadn’t noticed?”

Guilt slashed through him. “I’m busy. I run a number of enterprises across the world.”

Tansy silently stared ahead at the road, and her silence irked. “I provide both girls with excellent tutors and see to their every need. One day, I’ll pass on everything I’ve built to them. I rarely even travel these days, just so I can be around if they need me.”

“Sounds to me as though you treat the twins like investments. You provide them with material advantages and keep them closely guarded, imagining that one day they’ll magically transform into capable adults who will maintain the empire you’ve created.”

That stung. “Why is it that people with no children act as though they’re experts in raising them?”

Tansy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What makes you think I don’t have experience?”

Drake sought to remember everything on Tansy’s dossier he’d had his security team draw up this morning. In their haste, had they missed some pertinent information? The dossier claimed she’d divorced over ten years ago and had no immediate family.

“If you’re claiming that spending time with nieces and nephews count, I can assure it’s nothing like raising your own—”

“I had a son.”

Her words dropped heavy and thick, charging the car’s interior with gloom. “Had?” he gently probed.

Tansy didn’t answer right away, and Drake mentally flayed himself for the unintentional faux pas.

“His name was Everett. He died at age eighteen months from meningitis.”

Damn. What could he say? Tansy had kept her tone and face carefully neutral, but he felt the pain that lay beneath the calm veneer. Instead of trying to speak, he laid a hand on her shoulder. Tansy’s muscles were taught underneath his palm, and without thinking, he massaged her right shoulder and the back of her neck. Gradually, the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed, and she drew a deep breath.

“I may not have experience with teenage girls, but I do know something of the bond between a parent and their child.”

He withdrew his hand. “I didn’t realize . . . but if you’re saying I haven’t bonded with my girls, you’d be wrong. They were an unexpected surprise, and I’ll admit it took some getting used to, but I care deeply for them.”

“Do they know that?” she asked softly.

“Of course they do.” Drake bristled at her implied criticism. “I’ve told them over and over that I’m here for them, that I’d provide college and anything else they need.”

Tansy shook her head. “What may be obvious to you might not be obvious to children grieving over their mother and thrust into a new environment.”

“I hired grief counselors.”

“Not the same.”

“No one else dares criticize me the way you do. I’d forgotten how harsh you can be.”

“Maybe your employees are too intimidated to say anything they think you don’t want to hear,” she countered. “I don’t mean to be unkind, but in the long run, honesty is its own form of kindness.”

Humph. Had he really asked her to talk to him during the drive? Big mistake. Same old Tansy—direct and uncomfortably correct in her assessments. Especially when it came to him. “Maybe a little small talk is in order,” he suggested.

“You first.”

Drake struggled, then admitted defeat. Who cared about the weather or the local football team when a family member was in jeopardy? “Seems I can’t. Not right now.”

“Then tell me about Daphne. Do she and Ruby have similar personalities?”

“Not at all.” Worry took a temporary backseat as he described the twins. “Daphne is quieter, more serious. It takes time before she warms up to people and makes friends. Ruby, on the other hand, is a mess. Always asking questions, always the one challenging me on matters like curfew and going to parties. Never thought Daphne would be the one to cause trouble.”

“You know what they say about the quiet ones. Sounds as though Daphne’s shyness made her all the more susceptible to a man’s attention.”

He hadn’t thought of it like that, but it made sense. If he’d paid Daphne more attention, maybe she wouldn’t have gone seeking affection from the first man to sweet-talk her. Too bad the girls didn’t have their mom, someone they could talk to and get advice from.

“I bet you were a wonderful mother,” he blurted.

Tansy blinked at the wet film forming over her sky-blue eyes and cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said simply.

Drake took her hand and squeezed it, remembering that Tansy had a softer side, too. One that she often hid from others. And if time had made her a little tougher, a little more cynical, then he could understand that. You didn’t suffer tragedies and not have it change your essence.

They settled into a companionable silence as they drove past acres of crop fields and pristine woodland untouched by modern man. Everything was going to be fine. By tonight, Daphne would be back home in her own bed and hopefully untraumatized by Wingate’s abduction. Probably be best if he looked into hiring a counselor again, just to be on the safe side. He stole a curious glance at Tansy. The witch had a point, as uncomfortable as it was to acknowledge. Time he opened up more to the twins and made sure they understood they were his world now.

Gradually, he sensed a change in the air. Tansy squinted at the road ahead, her mouth a grim, straight line.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“It may be nothing.”

“Or it may be something. Spit it out.”

“According to my calculations, we’re within a few miles of Ahern’s Creek. But instead of feeling closer to Daphne, the connection is fainter.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “Are you saying . . .” He couldn’t speak past the lump of dread clogging his throat.

“She may have been moved. Sometimes kidnappers will shift where they hold someone, in case they’re being followed.”

His hands fisted into balls on top of his lap and his lungs scorched with fire. When he found Wingate, he was going to make the bastard pay for the ordeal he’d put them all through.

Tansy slowed her vehicle and parked in a copse of pines, shielding the car from the road. “It’s been a few years since we were together. Do you still have excellent eyesight?”

“Of course.” He reached in the backseat and pulled out a pair of binoculars he’d tossed there earlier. At the faint upturn of her lips, he murmured, “My night vision is sharper than my day vision, so I brought them just in case.”

“Good. From here, we should search on foot for a deserted cabin or campground.”

Drake pulled open one side of his fleeced vest, and from its inner pocket, he withdrew a nine-mm handgun. “Brought this, too, just in case.”

“Don’t be too trigger-happy,” Tansy warned. “Your girls don’t need to you to end up dead or in prison.”

“Not happening,” he answered, stepping out of the car. Wingate was the one in trouble here, not him. Drake opened his senses, sniffing the cool mountain breeze that smelled of dead leaves, pine, and rich loam. Not even a hint of campfire smoke. The air came alive with sound—rustling leaves, wind whistling though treetops, animals scurrying along the undergrowth. But no human voices. He scanned the barren field. Nothing in sight.

He turned to Tansy. “Do you sense anything?”

She pointed to his right. “Focus your search in that direction.”

Drake tucked his gun back into his vest and strode to the nearest climbable tree. Retractable talons sprouted from his fingertips and in one giant leap he flew to the treetop and used the talons to secure a landing—totally bypassing the need to scramble up the rough bark of the oak. From the perch, he lifted his binoculars in the direction Tansy mentioned.

There! A rundown log cabin was nestled in a copse of pines. “I’m coming for you, Daphne,” he whispered. “And you too, Wingate.”