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A SMILE SPREAD OVER Elizabeth’s face as she listened to Grinch. “That’s great.”
Had they found Danika? Nash’s hopes rose.
Elizabeth set her phone on the end table. “Grinch said the car rental place has GPS trackers on all its vehicles. So not only do we know who rented the car, we know where it is.”
Nash stood. “Let’s go.”
“Whoa, cowboy. You’re in no condition to be out.”
He suppressed a cough and stood. Wobbly, but he didn’t care. He could ignore a stupid virus long enough to get to Danika. “Try and stop me.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him. “If I push and you fall, you’re staying here.”
“Go for it.” Nash braced himself for the shove. Which was a gentle poke. He didn’t collapse.
“Part two is talking to Grinch.” She made the call, then passed the phone to Nash.
“If this were an op, what would you offer the team?” Grinch said. “Think with your brain. The one above your neck.”
Nash remembered what it had been like waking up in the hospital, seeing Olivia. The way his attitude had shifted knowing he had people who cared. “I need to be there. I know how to stay in the background, not get underfoot. I need to be there.”
A pause. “I know better than to try and stop you. I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes. I’ll brief you on the way.”
“You’re going,” Elizabeth said. It wasn’t a question. She snatched the phone. “He’ll need winter gear.” She turned away. “Love you, too.”
Nash headed for the bathroom. He checked the mirror. The red-eyed monster in the mirror would scare Danika—would scare anyone—half to death. And he smelled.
Twenty minutes. Plenty of time for basic hygiene. He showered, dried his hair. Brushed his teeth. Shaving would have to wait until he trusted his hands not to shake.
Dressed, he shuffled to the living room. Elizabeth was putting on her coat.
“You look better,” she said.
“I feel better, too.”
“Funny how love works.”
He coughed, more from her words than his virus. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ll figure it out.” She dried her hands. “I’ll be going unless you want me to hang around.”
“I’m good.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Elizabeth threw him a finger-wave and let herself out.
He sank to the couch. Love? What was she talking about? He cared about Danika, sure. She was snarky. Irritating. Funny. Not hard on the eyes. Kisses off the charts. But love? Love wasn’t for someone you’d just met. Love wasn’t something you dealt with when you had no idea what your future would bring. He was keeping Danika safe. Protecting her. A self-imposed assignment or not, that’s what he did. He’d done it many times. Thoughts of love had never entered the picture.
He tugged his parka out of the closet, grabbed his Glock. When Grinch arrived, Nash met him at the door. “I’m ready.”
Grinch carried a small tote. “Hang on, Rambler. It’s in the teens out there and the temperatures are predicted to hit sub-zero before morning. I think it’s more practical to wear these. Should fit.”
Nash took the tote, unzipped it, and peered inside. Thermals, a heavy sweater, balaclava, gloves. Snow pants. Thick socks.
Nash hurried to swap his clothes for the ones Grinch had brought.
Grinch eyed Nash’s parka. “Got a better one in the truck.”
Nash grabbed his gloves and the balaclava. In the pickup, Grinch fired up the engine and turned the heat to one notch below inferno.
“I don’t need it so hot,” Nash said. “Seriously, my fever broke and things are turning around. Except for the frog voice.”
Grinch gave him an assessing eye.
Nash lifted a palm. “I had a flu shot. I think it kicked in.”
“You will stay in the truck.” Grinch’s assessing gaze turned to a glare.
Nash lifted both palms. When things hit the fan, they couldn’t be worrying about a weak link in the chain. “Hey, I told you. You’re the lead.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
“We do. Me. Truck. Stay. Now, brief me.”
“Roger.” Grinch’s voice shifted. Although Nash had never worked an op with him, he recognized the tone as what he thought of as Blackthorne Standard. “The vehicle, rented by one Andrew Barinov, stopped about forty minutes ago in an area of hunting cabins, about ten miles west of T-Bone’s neighborhood. Given the terrain and the weather, air support is off the books, or I’d be up there instead of down here in a truck.”
Grinch passed Nash his phone, which displayed a driver’s license image of a blond man, forty-two years old. Six-three. Two-fifty. Blue eyes.
“This is who we’re looking for,” Grinch said.
Nash filed away the information. Having a face to put with the man fueled his anger. “How far away are we talking about? It’s been hours since Danika was taken.”
“Twenty minutes once we hit the highway,” Grinch said. “That’s with me pushing the limits of safety.”
They’d be no good to anyone if they slid off the road. “No argument from me.” His frazzled nerves said otherwise.
They turned onto the highway, joining a stream of slowly moving red taillights. Oncoming headlights had Nash squinting. The windshield wipers barely kept up with the falling snow. He wanted to ask Grinch if he’d considered the current traffic when he’d given his twenty-minute time estimate, but they’d get there when they got there. Grinch knew these roads, and like on any op, you had to trust your team.
Didn’t stop the jitters, though. At least those were familiar pre-op sensations, and Nash did his slow breathing. Didn’t work as well when it was about finding someone you cared about instead of a principal.
He thought about Elizabeth’s use of the L word. Nope. Not ready for that. Nash would stick with cared about. A lot, maybe, but not the L word.
The cops had located the Taurus, but that didn’t mean they’d found Danika. Whoever took her could have dumped her. And not necessarily alive. Nash shuddered at the thought.
“You cold?” Grinch reached for the heater control.
Dammit, the man had the eyes of an eagle.
Nash kept his expression neutral. “No.”
Grinch returned his hand to the wheel, his eyes darting between mirrors, the windshield, and the GPS display on the dash. He’d been an operative. He knew about nerves. From what he’d hinted at about meeting Elizabeth on a Blackthorne assignment, Grinch had experienced them on a personal as well as professional level.
Nash set his phone in the pocket under the door handle and turned his attention to the GPS readout. Grinch had set their destination, which meant the screen displayed how far they were from their goal, and how long it would take to get there.
Did the GPS know it was snowing? Nash had never figured out how they calculated the time to destination.
Twelve minutes, it said now. He could hang on for twelve minutes. Could Danika?
“We’re not the only ones on this mission, are we?” he asked Grinch. “They’re rolling an ambulance, right?”
“And at least a couple of deputies,” Grinch said.
“Are they ahead of us?” While Nash wanted to be the one Danika saw first, that was secondary to her being saved.
“Hard to say. They have the information, but they have to dispatch officers, and who knows how many they have free, or where they are.”
“What about dogs?” Nash asked.
“Don’t know. We’ll deal with whatever we have.”
The GPS indicated a turnoff two miles ahead. Nash watched the miles count down, a tenth at a time, as they approached. Eight more minutes? How far were they going to have to go once they turned?
*****
DANIKA CLIMBED OUT of the trunk. She couldn’t remember hearing any locks clicking when her captor had gone. Had he left anything inside? Like the keys?
She stifled a laugh, but she’d feel like an idiot—maybe a dead idiot—if she tried to hike through the storm in inappropriate clothing when a heated chariot awaited. She tugged on the driver door handle. Open. She had light. She looked for keys hanging from the ignition. No key slot. A big, round button, glowing like a one-eyed owl, that said Engine Start Stop.
She slid behind the wheel. Pressed the button. Nothing.
The dashboard lit up with a command to depress the brake pedal while pushing the starter. She did. More nothing.
Danika hadn’t thought the guy would have been stupid enough to leave his keys, but she’d had to try. She opened the console cover. A roll of mints. She pocketed them, then leaned over for the glove box. User’s manual. Paperwork. This was a rental car, which explained why there was nothing much in it. She peered over the seats. Wouldn’t it be nice if the guy had come from out of town, leaving his suitcase full of warm clothes in the back? And a phone.
Even more nothing. She skimmed the rental agreement. At least she’d have a name to give the cops. And her DNA all over the trunk. Or a name for the cops to investigate when they found her body.
Do not go there.
Andrew Barinov. Home address in Castle Rock. Danika had never heard of him. She wasn’t aware of anyone she knew who lived in Castle Rock. But it was Colorado. Had Andrew Barinov been the one who’d sent her the threatening letters?
Danika moved to the back seat, which had more room for her to curl up, conserving her body heat while she tried to sort things out, come up with a plan.
Hiking in the dark, in freezing temperatures, was a last resort. She had no idea where she was, which direction to go, and by now, the car’s tire tracks were lost in the falling snow.
What about the man’s tracks? Would they have filled in already? Even if they hadn’t, even if she left the car’s interior lights on, she wouldn’t be able to follow them for more than a few paces.
The smart thing to do would be to stay put. But what if Andrew Barinov was part one of the plan? What if there was a part two, and someone else would show up?
They’d expect her to be in the trunk. She had the element of surprise on her side. Surprise made a lousy weapon. She thought of Nash, always carrying his gun. Shooting someone didn’t work for her. If Andrew Barinov showed up now, she didn’t think she could shoot him. Maybe, if he was pointing a gun at her, but even then, she wasn’t sure she’d do it.
She thought of Nash and his work. He’d gotten shot. Had he shot back? Had he hit whoever had done it? How did he cope with a job where he might have to kill someone?
Because he’d do it to protect someone else. If Nash were here, and Andrew Barinov came back, would Nash shoot him? Under what conditions?
Too much thinking about guns and shootings. She needed to concentrate on escaping.
Was the snow supposed to continue all night? Would it be warmer tomorrow? In daylight, even if it was cold, she should have better luck figuring out where she was. By now, Nash would know she wasn’t stuck in long checkout lines or traffic. He’d have called someone, wouldn’t he? The cops? Grinch?
Or would he think she’d abandoned him, leaving everything behind so he’d think she was coming back? If he thought she’d moved on, would he write her off?
If she could turn her brain off, maybe she’d be able to sleep. Pass the time until morning. Or were you supposed to stay awake if it was freezing cold? Should she be trying to move as much as possible in the confines of this car?
Why didn’t rental car companies in Colorado include a survival kit in winter rentals? Were there statistics to make it a viable story? An exposé? People freezing to death for the lack of simple gear?
Too bad exercising the brain didn’t warm the rest of her muscles. She considered getting out of the car and doing sets of jumping jacks or running in circles around the vehicle, but she wasn’t sure that would be enough to outweigh the freezing temperatures. Instead, she clenched and unclenched muscles, swung her arms, stomped her feet.
Lights brightened the rear windshield. Was this part two of her abduction? Or rescuers?
She groped around the seat, the floor, the cup holders, seeking anything to defend herself with. A roll of breath mints wasn’t going to cut it.
Was there something under the driver’s seat? She dropped to the floor, probed with her fingers. A plastic cup from a convenience store. She set it down, stomped it with her foot, and was rewarded with a resounding crack. She tested the edge of a decent-sized piece. Sharp. Too bad Andrew Barinov hadn’t tossed the cup into the trunk.
The lights grew brighter. Closer. Who was coming? What would they do if they didn’t find her in the trunk? The Taurus had four doors. She couldn’t defend all of them.
Should she wait, let them grab her, then strike out with her makeshift knife?
Engine noises grew closer. A car door opened—no, two doors. Two cars? She knelt on the back seat trying to see out the rear window through the snow. One set of headlights glared, blinding her. She ducked down. Two people, then?
Two doors slammed shut.
Danika clutched the piece of plastic between her fisted fingers.