Page 91 of Blackmail of a Billionaire

James pressed his lips together, offering Grant a sheepish glance. “I don’t know if this is related or not, but if I don’t say something…well…I’d feel remiss if it mattered later.”

Grant crinkled his brow. “What is it?”

“Before I took Mrs. Harrington to shop…” His voice faltered, attempting to shape words that refused to come.

“What, James?”

James heaved a sigh. “She insisted I take her to see Kyle Carter. She said something about him saying he had more information. She wanted to know what it was so she could warn you.”

Grant’s eyes went wide. “You took her?”

“She said if I didn’t, she’d go alone. I couldn’t let her do that.”

Grant’s grip on the railing of the bed tightened. “She really needs to stop taking all these risks.”

“I tried to talk her out of it. I told her you’d fire me if I took her.”

Grant shot him a sideways glance. “Not quite, but I am going to have a long talk with her when…”

“We’ll find her, sir,” James assured him.

“Right,” Grant answered as a few medical professionals flitted into the room to begin tending to James.

“Sir, if you could wait in the waiting room…”

“Actually, I’m going to head home to keep tabs on the search. I’ll send someone to wait with you.”

“No, every second counts. Keep everyone on the search,” James insisted.

Grant nodded, his mind still whirling as he stepped into the night air. The weight of the situation settled on him like a shroud. He had to find them. Failure was not an option.

When he arrived at Harrington House, it was already abuzz with activity. His private office had been transformed into a command center. Laptops and electronics glowed and hummed, casting harsh beams across the intense faces of his security team.

“Mr. Harrington,” Worthington said as he entered, his expression grim, “I am so…”

The man found himself unable to finish the statement.

“We’re going to find them, Worthington.” Grant’s voice projected a confidence he didn’t feel.

“Of course, sir. They have already begun the search.” Worthington motioned toward the office.

Grant strode inside, tugging his jacket off. “Where are we on this?”

Max took the lead with explanations. “Police are tracking the van through CCTV and informing us of anything they find. They were grabbed outside of the Dolce store. Kidnappers left their purses at the scene, we retrieved both. No messages on either cell phone that seem threatening. No warning. No notes in either with instructions.”

Grant processed the information. “Who is the van registered to?”

“We’re working on that,” Max said, “still waiting for the plates from the police.”

Grant loosened his tie as his mind sorted through the information. “They were wearing ski masks, James said.”

“This was a coordinated strike, sir, not a quick grab. I imagine they’ll have demands. The important thing to remember is as long as they think we’re playing ball, they have no reason to hurt either of them.”

Grant’s mind whirled at the statement, his jaw tensing. He imagined the two women in his life frightened, possibly hurt. Helplessness washed over him as he sank into his chair. “So we do what? Wait?”

“For the time being, yes. We wait for information or a contact from the kidnappers.”

“Did anyone check on Kyle Carter? James said Julia spoke with him before she went to shop.”

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