Tate (Mountain Men 3)

To think, just a week ago I was afraid that if my next book didn’t go to print, I couldn’t pay my bills. But now… God, now I’d give anything to take it all back, for the assurance of safety for my friends. The people I’ve come to know as family.

I hate what I’ve brought to them. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make amends. But I’ll do whatever it takes.

My phone rings. I answer quickly, expecting one of my sources to follow through.

“Hello?” I whisper.

“Your wedding hasn’t saved you. You were ours before then.”

I freeze.

“Who is this?”

There’s a muffled voice and the sound of someone crying.

“Who is this?” I repeat.

“Fran?” A tortured female voice.

Ice pulses through my veins.

“Islan?”

“Do what he says, Fran. Do whatever he tells you." I can hear her blow out a ragged breath, her voice choked when she says, “He’ll take Paisley if you don’t.”

A chill shudders through me when he comes back on the line.

“You’ll stay where your husband is.”

He says husband like it’s a dirty word, like we’ve made a mockery of vows and marriage. And maybe I have. Maybe we both have. My hand trembles on the phone, trying to place the voice, trying to understand who it is, all the while my mind teeming with fear of what they’ll do to Islan.

“And you’ll tell your husband to come to the pier at noon. You’ll get him out here or we will find you and we will hurt you.”

“How original,” I quip, then I immediately regret the snarky comment when I hear Islan’s cry.

“Leave her alone!”

“The only way I’ll leave her alone is if you do exactly what I say. Exactly.”

My immediate gut reaction is to tell him to go fuck himself, but I keep my temper and speak through gritted teeth. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Chapter 17

Tate

I come to the bedroom in the evening to find my wife—my wife—asleep.

It’s been a long day with Keenan assembling his men, conference calls with Leith and my other brothers of the Clan. It’s taken all my self-control not to blaze this city to the ground until I find my sister, until I know she’s safe. But one thing I’ve learned as a member of the Clan is that we have to move methodically. Precisely. Any sudden moves, and I could hurt Islan.

I haven’t seen Fran.

The door to the balcony’s open a bit, and it’s chilly here as a brisk wind stirs. I close it, then turn to her. She’s tucked under the blankets.

Tonight should be a night of celebrating. Our honeymoon. A night to remember. Surrounded by friends, in a place people would pay good money to go to…

We’ll get there.

I can’t wake her, not when I know she’s got so much on her mind and she’s exhausted from the day’s events. It felt surreal, taking my vows to her like I did last night. It feels surreal even having her here with me.

I lie next to her and tuck my arm around her. I could get used to this, her warm body pressed up against mine, her soft hair beneath my chin. I kiss the back of her head and whisper, “I love you, Fran Cowen.”

She doesn’t respond. Dead asleep. Soon, I fall to sleep beside her. I feel her move in the middle of the night, and when I reach for her, she gives me a quick kiss to the cheek.

“Just need a bit of fresh air,” she says. “Rest.”

I figure she’ll stroll out onto the balcony, so I roll over and go back to sleep.

I wake the next morning to bright sunlight streaming in through the balcony door, and an empty bed beside me. I frown, surprised to see she isn’t here.

Didn’t she come back in last night?

What time was it, anyway? I can’t recall if it was the dead of night or early morning, since it was so dark out. It might have been six hours or thirty minutes.

Her phone’s gone, and her shoes are gone.

Warning thrums low in my belly, but I’m so used to it by now I barely pay attention to it. I’ve been trained to expect the worst in any scenario, and half the time I need to remind myself that it’s okay not to expect the worst in any scenario.

Still, I’ll breathe better when I know she’s safe.

I look at my phone and see a text from Fran.

Fran: Good morning! Not sure if you remember, I told you I needed a little fresh air.

I frown. I remember. Where is she? What the bloody hell is she thinking? I don’t want her going for a walk by herself, not when so much is at stake. Hell, even on a good day she’s not allowed to go without a guard on her.

But we haven’t gotten that far yet.