What was he worth without her? Nothing. Even if he went down the rabbit hole and never came back out, it wouldn’t matter because he’d have done his best to save her.
Decision made, he ran to his car, fired the engine, and raced to Sanctuary, skidding over the gravel to park at the entrance. He sprinted up the ramp, down the hall, and threw open the door to Kat’s living quarters. She wasn’t there, but he’d already known she wouldn’t be. She was out searching, as was Sterling. Tione found her computer, powered it up, and muttered impatiently under his breath as it came to life.
The screen asked for a password, and he entered it, and waited. His fingers were jittery on the keyboard, his knee rocking up and down as the homepage loaded. He found Wentworth’s employer’s intranet website, uploaded his personal hacking software, and prayed to God it still worked as well as it used to. With a few keystrokes and a bit of luck, he was into Wentworth’s email account. He scrolled, scanning for anything of interest. When he found nothing, he ventured into the man’s browsing history and struck gold. The history had been deleted, but not erased completely, and the most recent web page was an article about the historic boathouse located on the beach outside Anderson Gray’s property.
Gray’s place was on the edge of town. Tourists stayed away because they didn’t know it existed, and locals stayed away because Gray was an ass. He was also, by and large, housebound. If a person were to find his way to Gray’s beach without cutting through his property, the guy was unlikely to know they were there. It was an ideal spot to hide a terrified woman. No one would see her, and no one would hear her scream.
Tione called Elliot and wasted no time explaining himself. “Send someone to check Gray’s boathouse. I think that’s where he’s taken her.”
“Huh,” Elliot said. “That would make a lot of sense. Is this a lucky guess, Tee?”
Tione swallowed. “It’s better than a lucky guess. I can’t tell you anything, but you need to go and look for her.”
“I’ll send a team as soon as I can, but Gray’s not going to like this.”
29
Tione hammeredon the door of Anderson Gray’s renovated villa, hard enough to bruise his fist.
“Gray!” he yelled. “Open up, you sullen son of a bitch. Get your ass out here right now.”
The door swung inward, and Tione stumbled. He would have fallen on his face if the bulk of Gray’s body hadn’t prevented it.
“Get off my property, fuckwit,” Gray grumbled in his American drawl, shoving him away and then jamming his hands in his pockets. In years past, Gray had been a Hollywood heartthrob, and Tione supposed he was still a decent-looking man, although his hair was unkempt and his clothes looked like they’d been balled on the floor and recycled a dozen times without being washed. “What’s up with people not leaving me the hell alone today?”
His words sent sharp jabs of both fear and exhilaration through Tione. “What do you mean?”
Gray wrinkled his nose, taken aback. “What’s your problem, man? Calm the fuck down.”
“I willnotcalm down,” Tione said, low as can be. “Tell me what you meant.”
Gray shrugged broad shoulders, then cracked his neck. “Some jerk is out on my beach and won’t leave. Gave him a piece of my mind, but he’s a stubborn shit.”
Adrenaline rushed through Tione’s veins. He was right. Wentworth was here.
“Here’s how it is,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “That man on your beach has kidnapped a woman. You need to call the police and tell them to get here yesterday. Got it?”
“Are you playing with me?” Gray asked, dubious.
“No,” he gritted out. “Call the police. Right. Now. I have to get down there. She might be in trouble.” He didn’t bother asking Gray to go with him.
“Wait.” Gray spoke quickly now, ushering him into the house. “Take this.” He thrust a hunting rifle into Tione’s hands. “I’ll call the police, and then follow you down.”
“Sure.” No way was that going to happen, but he’d let the man have his pride.
“Go out the back door, and take the path through the woods. They won’t see you coming.”
“Will do.” Clasping the rifle tight to his chest, he ducked out the exit and darted into the cover of the trees that grew down to the edge of the sand. The gun made him uncomfortable. He’d only ever used one at a firing range in Silicon Valley when he was trying to impress a potential investor, and that had been a long time ago. Today he was taking far too many trips down memory lane.
Pretend it’s a paintball gun.
Reaching the edge of the trees, he spotted the dilapidated boathouse no more than thirty yards away. The wall facing him had no windows, and he dashed across the sand, dropping to his knees nearby. He crawled around the building until he found the window, and rose up into a crouch, peering above the windowsill.
The gloom inside made it difficult to see anything, but when his vision adjusted, he could make out Megan bound to a chair on the floor. Blood streaked her temple and dribbled down the side of her face, her lip was fat, and one of her eyes was swollen. Fury washed over him. He’d seen her like this before, and he wanted to strangle the monster responsible. His hands squeezed around the cool metal of the rifle, and he amended the thought. Forget strangulation, he’d be happy to shoot the man.
Charles Wentworth had his back to Tione, and was speaking in a low voice. Then, without provocation, he struck Megan’s torso with a steel-toed boot. She screamed, and Tione tensed, wanting nothing more than to bust through the window and throw the bastard on the ground, but he might have a gun or a knife. He ground his teeth together. He had to be patient, and wait for the right time to make a move, but as Megan pressed her lips together to keep from screaming when another kick landed, staying still was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
* * *