struck out on his own. But he’d been comfortable here, and when Douglas had made him a good offer, he’d known that the man wanted him to stay—and valued his work ethic.
But he’d found out soon enough that working for Douglas could be an exercise in frustration. Never more than at this moment. He’d have liked to have Carrie home at the family compound so he’d know exactly where she was. But Hawk had her stashed Lord knew where. It could be somewhere close. Or they could be in the next state by now.
He banged his fist against the rosewood desk, then struggled for calm again. Hawk had said he’d call back. Then Patrick would get more information. Or not, depending on Hawk’s mood.
He cursed again, more softly this time. Wyatt Hawk was turning out to be the biggest mistake he could imagine making.
CARRIE’S STOMACH ROILED as she stood in the middle of the room, clutching her cell phone. “My father—”
“—is a hostage.”
“Which is my fault. And the men who snatched him hurt Patrick.”
“Carrie, none of this is your fault. You were just doing your duty as a citizen. What were you going to do, let them blow up the U.S. Capitol and pretend you hadn’t heard anything?”
When she started to protest, Wyatt reached for her and pulled her close, pressing her face to his shoulder. “We have two jobs here. The first one is to keep you safe. The second is to get your dad back.”
“What if I think that’s the wrong order?” she asked in a strained voice.
“It’s not. And we will get him back.”
“How?”
His tone was soothing as he rubbed her back. “We don’t do it by running off without a plan. We’ve got to consider all the angles and proceed carefully.”
He kept his arms around her, rubbing her neck and shoulders, and she leaned into his strength as she thought back over the awful conversation with Patrick. Thank goodness she hadn’t been alone. If Wyatt hadn’t stopped her, she would probably have told Patrick where she was, and the terrorists could be on their way to the motel already if they’d been listening.
“They can’t find us through the phone?” she murmured.
“We didn’t speak long enough for them to trace the call. But I want to get rid of both our phones so they can’t use the GPS.”
She nodded against his shoulder.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t that be my line?”
He managed a low laugh. “I’m fine.”
“You were shot a little while ago. You were resting when I got ahold of Patrick.”
“I’ve been hurt before, a lot worse than this.”
“That scar on your chest.”
“Yes.”
“And you were in the hospital, right?”
“I said it was worse than this.” He eased away from her. “We need to get a couple of prepaid phones so we can use them and throw them away.”
“Okay.”
He gave Carrie a direct look. “You trust Patrick?”
“Of course!”
“Who else is at your house?”
She thought for a moment. “There’s Inez, our maid.”
“How long has she been with you?”
“Fifteen years.”
“Does she need money?”
“Everybody needs money.”
He nodded. “Who else could have heard you talking to your father about your plans to hide out?”
She felt as if she was being interrogated, but she knew he needed to know the answers. “There’s a gardening crew that comes by a couple of times a week. They could have been eavesdropping.”
“Anyone else?”
“Not on a regular basis.”
His eyes narrowed, and she could see he was considering contingencies. “I don’t want to leave you here, and I don’t want to take you to the store, but I think that sticking together is better at the moment.”
She nodded, assuming he was probably afraid she’d call Patrick if he left her.
He carried the cell phones to the bathroom and crushed them under his heel, then stuffed the pieces into his pocket.
She winced, thinking about the contacts and the pictures he’d just destroyed.
He glanced at her, apparently reading her expression. “You can get a new one later.”
“Right.”
“I’m going out first.” He opened the door and looked out, then crossed to the car and motioned for her to follow.
As she got in the car, she asked, “They couldn’t have found us here already, could they?”
“Probably not, but I didn’t think they would show up at the safe house before we got back there. It appears that this operation is bigger and better organized than we assumed initially.”
“Oh, great.”
Minutes after they’d entered the motel room, they were back on the road.
This time, Wyatt took the driver’s side. She wanted to protest that he should be resting, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t pay any attention to the suggestion. Obviously he was the kind of man who wasn’t going to let a woman drive him unless he was incapacitated.
As he drove, he tossed away the pieces of the phones, then turned to her. “I have Patrick’s bio. He’s been with you for twenty-five years, right?”
“Yes.”
“And does he have any reasons to dislike your family?”
“Why would he? My father did everything for him. He treated him like a son, actually. He had a bedroom down the hall from me. He ate all his meals with us. My father sent him to the same private school I went to. He paid his tuition at Ohio State.”
“So he was a good student?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever give your father any trouble?”
“You mean like rebelling?”
“Yes.”
“He and I did a couple
