Page 49 of My Cowboy Salvation
Tears slip freely down my face. “You.”
Then I close my eyes again, willing it all to be over.
Chapter 25
Logan
“Where the fuck are they?”I demand, knowing I’m not going to get a response as I stare at the faces of the other three men surrounding me.
Two of the three men I know. Conner and Tate, both former Rangers I’ve known for years. Noah is new to me, other than our brief communication over the past week. He’s also former military, but that’s all I know. All of them work in the private security team I’ve officially hired to help me track down Dylan.
It’s been nearly six hours since the tracker stopped sending out a signal, and we’re no sooner to finding them as we were when it happened.
“Hey,” Conner said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to find her.”
The question is, will we find her before it’s too late? The second we lost that connection, a hard moment of dread hit my gut because it could only mean one thing.
Beaufort found it. And whether he believed Dylan knew about its presence was anyone’s guess. I’m guessing he wouldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt.
Regret and anguish over how we left things—howIleft things—weigh heavily on me. I pushed her away all week. Didn’t feel I had much choice. Dylan was here because I offered my son’s ex-girlfriend a safe haven. I never expected to develop feelings for her.
No, let’s call it what it is. Love. I fell in love with Dylan, loving her more than I ever have loved another woman in my life. But the guilt at what I was doing to my son prevented me from seeing that, from seeing how much she means to me.
I know I hurt my son, and I hope I can make up for that some day, but I can’t deny how I feel. Dear God. Please let her come back to me safe and sound, so I can at least tell her that.
We just need to figure out where the hell he’s taken her.
From various surveillance videos we obtained, we saw Dylan get into an unmarked black sedan last night. After that, with the GPS tracking, we were able to monitor their movement until they were just outside Bend, Oregon. That’s when it went off the grid, and them along with it. But it had been a starting point, and we took off on the small chartered plane and headed toward San Francisco, guessing that would be where they were headed.
Unfortunately, with six hours gone, more than enough time for them to reach Beaufort’s house, there is no sign of them, and so we returned to the plane to figure out our next move. And where I’m about to pull my head from my neck, my stress and frustration so high.
I stand behind Noah, trying to see if he’s had any progress. Noah hasn’t said much, instead focusing his attention on the computer in front of him as he continued to dig for clues of a safe house Beaufort might be using. But nothing has come up in his name or any of his family’s names that hasn’t been accounted for.
My phone rings, and I see the number flashing. I take it without hesitation. “Dad? What’s going on? I just heard your message. Dylan’s missing?”
I relay what I can to Parker about our search as he remains silent. “She tried to call me,” he says after I’m through. “About… seven last night. She didn’t leave a voicemail, though. Could she have been trying to call me for help, and I just blew her off?” he asks, and I can hear how destroyed he is by that possibility.
“I’m sure that’s not it.”
Why would she have called my son instead of me? If she was needing help, I know without any doubt she would have reached out to me. Not that I’m going to say that to my son. But why would she have reached out to him? If she called him around seven, it was likely right after she had the run-in with Beaufort and took off.
There’s got to be another reason she would call him. The only other possibility I can think is she was trying to warn him. Had Beaufort threatened him? Threated to harm Parker, maybe even me, and that’s why she went with him? That possibility struck me as true, especially since this was Dylan we are talking about.
If that’s true, it would mean Beaufort is tailing my son now. Hell, maybe he’s been tailing him all along. All the way here.
And Parker might still be in danger.
“Son, where are you?” He gives me his location, and I write it down. “Stay where you are. I’m going to send some officers to you.”
“Officers? Why?”
“Just as a precaution. But stay inside, and don’t answer the door until I call you.”
“Dad.” His voice cracks as the emotions overcome him. “I-I just need you to know that despite whatever happened before… I love you. Be careful.”
Once we disconnect, I get on the phone with law enforcement out of Spokane and alert them to a possible threat. Then I’m back to staring over Noah’s shoulder as the minutes go agonizingly by until Noah tenses, his fingers pausing midair. “I think I’ve got something.”
We gather around him, trying to make sense of the information on the screen—information that looks like the description of a land parcel.
