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“Yes,” Grant replied. “They kidnapped Ms. Callahan and asked for a two-million dollarransom.”
“I see,” the fed said. “And you decided to pay it instead of contacting theauthorities?”
“I hired K and R professionals hoping to get her back without paying the ransom,” Grant replied scratching his jaw. “I didn’t trust the localpolice.”
“Your actions resulted in the deaths of thirteen people, Mr.Thorne.”
“And three of them are mine,” he gritted through his teeth. “Have you seen Ms. Callahan? What they did to her?” If it weren’t a felony to assault a federal officer, Grant would love nothing more than to wipe the floor with this asshole. Maybe he was in the ROC’s pocket as well. Tyler called his attention that the ambulance was ready to leave. “Look, I need to get to thehospital.”
“We may have more questions. Don’t leavetown.”
Grant gave a mirthless laugh. He rarely used his connections to intimidate people. “Look, Agent Wilkes. You know who I am.” He didn’t need to say that he was the son of the senator who controlled the Intelligence budget. “You know I’m not from Miami. I’m taking Ms. Callahan to Boston as soon as she’s cleared to travel. So it may be this evening. Or it may be tomorrow morning. I will be unavailable at that time. My girlfriend needs me. You want to talk to me, set an appointment with myPA.”
“Now, look here, Mr.Thorne—”
“No, you look here,” Grant snapped, losing all patience. He didn’t have time for this shit. “These are criminals. Thugs. They kidnapped my woman and may have planted the bomb that nearly killed my mother. This might not even be your case tomorrow. I get you need to do your job, but the way I see it,” he swept his arm at the carnage around them. “We just did it foryou.”
“You can’t take the law into your own hands, Mr.Thorne.”
Grant was already walking away from the fed. “Then do yourjob.”
* * *
Grant pounded awayon his laptop, catching up with work. In the time since the Gulfstream had left Miami, he’d had several panicked voicemails to return. His dad had called, having caught wind of what happened to the Orlov Bratva. With the death of their Vor, the organization was in disarray and its effect was felt all the way to Russia. There was enough of the inner circle left to run the ROC, but with the evidence Grant was bringing back with him, their days were numbered. His father made a comment that even if this Bratva collapsed, another would rise to take its place. Grant didn’t care, that was the problem for the FBI. All he cared about was the threat againstBlaire.
A sound from the bed grabbed his attention. He put his laptop aside and crawled under the covers with his woman. He was glad he brought the Gulfstream because it had a sleeping cabin and Blaire would have a comfortable journey home. She had a sprained wrist and two broken ribs. She had cuts on her lips and brows but no facial fractures. It had been a miracle. The swelling and bruising on her face made her features unrecognizable, but her eyes remained quintessentially Blaire. He’d know them anywhere. A tightness in his chest and burn behind his eyes reminded him of how he’d lost it at the Miami-Dade hospital the previousnight.
When they took the gurney carrying Blaire away, a noise that suspiciously sounded like a sob rose in his throat. Tyler was startled and didn’t know what to do. Grant took a deep breath, excused himself, and headed for the stairwell. He pushed the door open and went down a flight, and then leaned against the wall and simply lost it, letting emotions bleed down his face. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees. His poor Angel. That someone would hurt and brutalize the woman he loved gutted him. He didn’t know how long he stayed in that stairwell, but in the end, after he’d regained his composure, fury against the people who’d hurt her dominated every fiber of his being. He wished Orlov was alive, so he could kill the bastard himself. Grant had crossed that line and he could say, without a doubt, that he’d kill for Blaire. He’d annihilate anyone who’d try to harmher.
Liam, my man, wherever you are, I promise I’m going to take care ofher.
He stared at her now, wanting to kiss away all her bruises. He wanted to put his ear against her heart and listen to it beat. He wanted to tuck her into his arms and never let hergo.
Her eyes flutteredopen.
“Blaire,” Grantwhispered.
At first he saw joy in her eyes, but, when she blinked, grief ripped it away and tears rolled down her cheeks. She turned her head and stared at the wall of theplane.
“Blaire, look at me,” Grantpleaded.
“Where am I?” Her voice wasflat.
“You’re on the Gulfstream. I’m taking you home,Blaire.”
“ToColorado?”
Fear pierced his chest. “No. To Boston, then to Manhattan withme.”
Still not looking at him, she said, “I’m not going back to you,Grant.”
“Baby, let’s not talk about this right now.” He wasn’t giving her a choice. This might end up being a kidnapping, but he’d be damned before he let her out of hissight.
Her gaze shifted to the ceiling. “How’sAmelia?”
“She’s fine, Blaire,” Grant said. “I’msorry—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off and then finally looked at him with glassy eyes. “Amelia got hurt because you chose to be withme.”
