He and Jock had come home to find the SUV Regan had been driving in his driveway. His relief was short-lived when he discovered Eredine knocked out on his living room floor and his children and Regan missing.
Eredine had come to and told them what happened. She’d been knocked out twice, so there were no arguments about her going to the hospital.
The shared driveway was a mass of activity. Lachlan’s security. The police. His family.
Thane watched from a distance, his emotions locked down so tight he couldn’t feel anything.
Because if he let himself, he’d lose his goddamn mind.
Sean McClintock had kidnapped his children and Regan.
“We should never have taken security off them.” He heard Mac growl at Arrochar. She tried to soothe him, but Mac paced up and down the driveway like a caged animal. The police wanted his team out of it while they tracked down McClintock, and Mac had not taken kindly to the order.
Thane hadn’t either.
Walking toward Mac, he caught his eye and gestured for him to follow him down the side of the house toward the annex.
According to their calculations, Regan and his children had been missing for forty-five minutes. Time was passing too quickly. His family was getting farther and farther away. He stopped near the annex and turned to face Mac.
Checking over his shoulder to make sure the detective inspector in charge wasn’t nearby, Thane waited a second and then said, “Fuck what they want. I want you out there, using whatever contacts you have to find this bastard.”
Mac’s expression hardened, and he nodded sharply. “Done.”
“When you find them”—because Thane had no doubt Mac could—“no police. I want at him first before we hand him over.”
Retribution raged in Mac’s eyes. “That I can do.”
Thane nodded, trying to keep a lid on the seething rage he’d bottled. He’d actually felt gutted for Sean, was determined to speak to the procurator fiscal on his behalf when the attempted kidnapping case went ahead because Thane knew grief did bizarre things to people.
And the bastard had come for his family again!
He had to keep calm, keep calm, keep calm. He moved to leave, but Mac’s head suddenly snapped back, and he held up a palm toward him.
Thane froze. “What is it?”
Mac cocked his head. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
His pulse leapt. “Hear what?”
“Shh.” Mac strode past him and placed his ear to the annex door. Thane cautiously followed him and strained to hear.
A dull thud sounded from inside.
“Fuck!” He lunged toward the door, but Mac held him back. He shook his head at Thane and reached slowly behind his back to pull out a gun he’d tucked into the waistband of his kilt.
“Behind me,” he murmured to Thane. He reluctantly fell back.
Mac twisted the door handle, and it opened.
Thane frowned. That should have been locked.
Stepping quietly through the small entrance, his eyes fighting to adjust to the darkness, Thane stayed at Mac’s back even though he was desperate to push ahead. Then Mac suddenly halted with a hoarse “Jesus Christ.” And then, “Thane, get the light.”
“Lights on,” he called, but the annex didn’t light up. The smart device must have been disconnected.
A muffled squeal from within the main room caused a score of renewed fear through his heart, and he lunged for the light switch at the door. Mac was already striding into the room, and Thane moved with him.
Fury and relief were all Thane felt at finding Eilidh and Lewis each tied to a garden chair. Lewis’s chair was on its side, his son on the floor. Tears streamed down his children’s faces, and their yells of relief were muffled by the duct tape over their mouths.
“Jesus Christ,” Mac repeated in controlled rage as he hurried to Eilidh, tucking his gun back into his kilt and out of sight under his dress jacket.
Thane fell to the floor behind Lewis, struggling to untie the tightly knotted ropes binding his wrists behind the chair. “Knife!” he yelled at Mac.
“One second.” Mac pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his sporran and proceeded to saw at Eilidh’s bindings.
“It’s okay, Eilidh-Bug,” Thane promised, holding her teary gaze. “I’m here now.” He turned to Lewis, embracing him over the chair. “Dad’s here, bud. I’m going to take off the duct tape, okay?”
His son nodded frantically.
“It might hurt a bit, but I’ll be quick.”
Lewis nodded again.
Swallowing hard against the angry tears in his throat, Thane grasped a corner of the tape and yanked it off in one fast flick.
His son cried out in pain and then promptly burst into tears.
“It’s okay, bud,” Thane murmured through his own tears as he peppered his son’s cheeks with relieved kisses. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”
He strained to look from the corner of his eyes as Thane tried to untangle the ropes again. Lewis hiccupped. “I heard you outside. Tipped my chair.”