“No. We have closed circuit cameras showing she left her house around ten-hundred and then went for a run.”
Fucking hell.
“We can get you the footage,” Kilbourn said.
“I can get the footage myself. You believe she’s been kidnapped.” He knew Rose worked as a JAG, who climbed the ranks quickly after she defended a lieutenant and got him out of some extreme charges, which put her services in high demand. Her work required that she dug into back alleyways, uncovering secrets that someone might be trying to keep under wraps.
“Yes, she’s been kidnapped. She hasn’t been home in two days and didn’t show up for work this morning. That isn’t like Rose.”
“No. No, it isn’t,” he said softly. “Does this have to do with a case?”
“We believe so. We aren’t talking about a controlled substance charge and dishonorable discharge—it’s a high profile case of treason, and we might be dealing with groups that can do Rose real harm.”
“Does Rose believe this man she’s defending is innocent?” Her name branded his tongue.
“She does.”
“But she may have dug too deep—stirred up a hornet’s nest.”
“Exactly,” Kilbourn grated out. “Oz—I only trust you. Get her back for me.”
“I will. In the meantime, do not allow any government agencies to get involved. Those untrained bastards will only get in my way.”
“I know—it’s why I called you first.”
“I’ll be in touch when I have her back.” Not if. Oz never failed.
He took off through the church, back to the private chamber. He threw the door open, and it bounced off the wall. Madeline looked up, a question on her lips.
“Sister, I need your skills.”
“Of course.” She stood.
He looked around. “North? I need your tracking skills. Find this address and get every map up for a two-mile perimeter, along with every camera with eyes on those streets.”
He turned to Madeline. “I need you to find someone’s life, Madeline.”
She plopped down into her seat behind the most technologically advanced setup in the world. “Name?”
“Rose Kilbourn. Daughter of General Alexander Nicholas Kilbourn, US Navy.”
Her fingers flew over the keys, and images began popping up, along with articles. When Rose’s photo in her JAG hat and uniform came into view, Oz gripped on to the edge of the desk. All of a sudden, this shit he did every day for a living got fucking real.
“Oz.”
He pivoted to North. The man had a map of the entire vicinity on the big wall screen. Moments later, Madeline added her layer of intel, which mapped out every single one of Rose’s movements over the course of a month.
Oz’s heart walls flexed. He stared at the screen. “Jesus Christ, this is her life.”
Her apartment and the office where she worked. The market she frequented, a coffeeshop and the gym.
Her life is so small. But it’s hers.
A theater visited the previous weekend. Did she sit alone in the dark or did a man hold her hand and pass her the popcorn?
North jabbed at the screen. “I think this is where she was taken.”
Oz gave him a sharp look. “Why there?”
“Because the camera overlaps fail here. There’s a gap. See?” North pointed between two screens. Sure enough, the street corner contained a six foot gap that put it off the map—in total darkness.
“Get the day before yesterday’s footage up on the screen, around ten-hundred.”
North leaned in and punched a few keys. Seconds later, Rose came into view, crossing from one camera to the next, sprinting the busy city sidewalks, her long legs Oz remembered far too easily being wrapped around him now eating up the sidewalks. A blonde ponytail bounced on the back of her head, and her tits…
“Fuck.” He swiped a hand over his face to eliminate the image of her round breasts in front of his face, nipples straining for his tongue.
As she neared the drop between video surveillance, he stared unblinkingly at the screen.
A white van cut her off, careening into her path. Then a second later, not only was the van gone, but Rose too.
“Someone took her,” Madeline said in the soft, reverent tones only a true sister of The Guard could utter.
Oz couldn’t look away from that spot where Rose disappeared. “Find out all you can about that van. License, registration, rental records. Everything.”
“On it,” Madeline said.
He whirled to the door and threw it open with a bang that caused the others to jump. “Gilly!” he bellowed into the church.
Seconds later, a man appeared from another room off the main nave where the pews were located. The SEAL wasn’t retired—he’d been tossed out of the special forces for breaking all the rules, which only made him a prime candidate for The Guard.
Oz waved at him. “You’re with me.”
“Sure, boss. Where are we going?”
“Not certain yet.” He walked back into the chamber and Gilly followed.
“Found your van, Oz.” North lifted a hand to indicate the vehicle barreling down the highway.
“Bound for the coast. Fuck, I knew it. Gilly, you know these ports in and out.” He could also swim like he sported the gills he’d been nicknamed for, and possessed a fluent tongue in practically every language on the goddamn planet.
“Madeline, get us a chopper. Gilly, be ready in ten minutes.”
“I can be ready in five, Oz.”
He stared at the screens again. Rose… Fuck, Rose. What if I can’t get you back?
What if she recognized him when he did?
* * * * *
Rose’s nose was clogging off from crying. And she hated crying. The weakness didn’t often hit her—she could count all of half a dozen times in her adult life when she’d let the tears flow. Once had been after an extremely trying week with her young sons. The stomach flu ravaged them both for days, and by the time it left their systems, Rose had a pile of laundry the size of a small hill and her hands were raw from scrubbing everything in sight. Then, while the twins returned to their usual rowdy natures, the virus struck her down.
Another time, she’d experienced a terrible scare when her father was taken by ambulance with a possible heart attack. Those hours driving to Virginia alone in the dark had been more than terrifying, and she’d allowed a few tears to flow.
One other moment that stuck out to her was when she thought she saw Oz on the street.
She gripped her hands together and tried again to pry her bonds loose enough to wiggle free. If only she could see, she could get her bearings. The hood covering her face, the duct tape on her mouth…both would drive her mad if she let them. She couldn’t—fucking wouldn’t.
She was tough. She had to be tough for Alex and Nick. They still needed her for those momentous occasions in life, like graduation and then graduating from basic training. Weddings and the birth of their own children. Goddammit, she wouldn’t go down without seeing those things.
Slowing her breathing rate, she threw out her senses. How long had she been in here? The van rocked. What could she remember of it? White, probably a model from the early 2000 range, used for small deliveries such as fruit baskets or flowers. No side or rear windows. No decal on the side to track the vehicle more easily.