Page 58 of Taylor’s Warrior

The special agent directed a look of expectation at Taylor. There was no way Rhys was letting her bear that burden alone.

“Tay,” he said softly, “let me open it for you.”

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I love that you’d do that for me, but… I have to do this. It scares me, but I can’t let fear win.”

She leaned over and brushed her lips over his cheek. However much he’d loved her up to that moment, it was a pale shadow of how much he loved her now. “Then I’ll be right here with you, fy nghariad.”

He turned to Livingston. “You’re sure this thing’s not going to blow up?”

“D’you think we’d still be sitting here if I wasn’t?” the other man replied.

Rhys gave a curt nod. He pulled a multi-tool knife from his pocket and flipped out a blade suitable for breaking the seal on the package. “Let me cut the tape, then you can open it. Deal?”

Taylor bit her bottom lip. “Deal.”

Rhys ran the blade along the edges of the package, the movement slow and careful in case there was any obstruction that might give away the presence of an undetected booby trap. He breathed again when he completed the operation without issue. “Tay, it’s all yours, but if you have any doubts, stop and give it to me. Okay?”

“Understood,” she acknowledged, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He watched as she ran her fingers around the edges where the tape was no longer intact. At the corner, she picked at the tape until there was enough to use to lift the lid.

As Livingston had said, all it contained was a cell phone. Taylor went to pick it up, but Rhys stopped her before she could touch it.

He turned his attention to Livingston. “You want to check it for fingerprints first.”

Livingston reached over and took the box from Taylor. “It’ll only take a few minutes, although I doubt there’ll be anything to find.”

He was right, and a few minutes later, the cell phone was back in Taylor’s hand, still to be switched on. She brushed her fingers over the screen. “I guess this is it, then.”

Rhys nodded. “Just remember, though, if anything feels wrong, give it to me.”

“Okay.”

Taylor pushed the button on the side, and the cell phone brand appeared on the screen, remaining there for several nerve-racking seconds until multiple icons appeared. “What now?”

“Wait,” Rhys replied. “Give it a⁠—”

A loud beep announced the arrival of a text message. Taylor glanced from the phone to Rhys and then Livingston. “Should I open it?”

Livingston nodded. “Go ahead.”

She tapped the screen, and almost immediately gave a horrified gasp.

Rhys went on alert. “What is it?”

She held out the phone so both men could see. The image was of a man somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties, bound and gagged, showing clear signs of having been beaten. It came with a message.

If you want your father to stay alive, call this number now.

“What do I do?” Taylor said, her voice breaking. “If I don’t call, they’ll kill him.”

If he wasn’t already dead. Rhys kept the thought to himself—broadcasting it wouldn’t help anyone. The next step was obvious, but Rhys wasn’t in charge.

He turned to the man who was. “How do you want to handle this? Seems to me time is of the essence.”

“I have to agree. Call it,” Livingston directed. “But put it on speaker—Gaines, I want you to record this, and try to get a fix on the location, if you can. Ms. Markham, try to keep them talking for as long as you can. And everyone, keep quiet.”

Taylor waited while the other agent set up a microphone. When everything was ready, she turned to Rhys.