The hours passed with excruciating slowness. Heath passed the time pacing, praying, and trying his best to comfort Sam. People came and went with regularity. Some faces Heath knew, some he didn’t, and some he probably never saw. His boss, Agent Adrian Moffit, had come and gone. Dana’s rage and impotence at being removed to the side lines had finally exploded. Heath was still thanking the good Lord that her victim had been Moffit, not himself. He had enough to worry about.
Dana had fumed when Moffit had been introduced, “What did you say your name was?”
Adrian had the decency to look mildly sheepish, “Moffit, ma’am.”
Dana had inched up until they were toe to toe and then leaned in so they were practically nose to nose. “I don’t suppose you’re any relation to one missing person, Lindsay Moffit, are you?”
Heath had not failed to notice how Dana’s bulldog style of interrogation had reduced his boss to yes ma’am and no ma’am. He just didn’t give a damn. With Miranda in danger, nothing seemed the least funny.
Heath had left them to their arguments and explanations. He knew the answers to all the questions that were being asked. He knew the logic of the plan the Drug Enforcement Agency had put into motion. Right now none of that mattered. All that mattered was the fact that something had gone wrong, and that something was Miranda’s kidnapping.
He stood lost in his thoughts and musings as he stared out the window. No matter how he thought about what had happened and what was going to happen, one fact remained the same: Miranda was in danger, and she was being held at the mercy of a truly evil man who would try to kill them both before this night was over.
If she died, would it matter that this operation had been for the greater good as Moffit had tried to tell all who would listen? Would anything matter to him without Miranda? Heath was sure the answer to both of those questions was a resounding “no.”
He looked over toward the sofa in the living room. Miranda’s parents were huddled there holding each other and holding Sam. Heath had been surprised when they had not kicked him bodily out of their home when they learned how he had played a role in getting their daughter kidnapped. But no, they had acted with grace, but he had seen the questions in their eyes. They wondered just what his relationship with their daughter was, but the answer to that was obvious. It was the reason she had been kidnapped in the first place; Miranda was his weakness. Devon had found that out, and he had exploited it for his own gain and for his own sick pleasure. Heath leaned his head against the cool panes of the window. Why could he not have been a stronger man? A better man for her?
His phone rang bringing him out of his thoughts. The number belonged to Adrian. Heath wasted no time on pleasantries, “Did you get the information out of him?”
Adrian hesitated, but then against his own reservations answered truthfully, “Yes.”
Heath listened as Adrian talked outlining the information that had been gained from the man who had shot him last night. God was it truly only last night. Heath had wanted to beat the man half to death last night after the cretin had tried to put a bullet in him. It was good that he had not; Adrian was much more thorough at getting information when the man he questioned had all his faculties in tack.
“What’s the location?”
Adrian answered without pausing knowing that trying to talk sense into Heath was a waste of time, “It’s a warehouse on the south docks near pier 53.”
Heath growled, “I’m on my way. Do your job, and don’t fuck it up, or you’ll answer to me. Got it?”
Adrian answered, “Understood. Don’t get yourself killed, Brandon.”
Heath disconnected and walked out of the house without a word. The time for talk had passed. It was time to get his game face on now. His standard issued 45 was in his shoulder holster ready to go, but it would be taken from him the moment he arrived at the warehouse. He just hoped he could get it back long enough to put a bullet into Devon. But if he didn’t, then Adrian would.
I was still tied to the chair. God, how long had I been here? My arms throbbed from being tied behind me, and my hands and feet had gone numb from being bound. If by some miracle I did manage to free myself, there was no way I would be able to fight or to run. Hell the way I felt, I might not even be able to stand up.
I knew Heath would come for me. I feared him dying more than I feared this captivity, so I did the only thing that I could do for those who mattered. I prayed for Heath. I prayed for me. I prayed for Sam, who might have to grow up without his mother. I prayed for my parents to have the strength that he would need. And finally, I prayed for a miracle.