Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(95)

Except they should have been here already. With the time it had taken me to get Bryce home and shower, then for us to go to the doctor, Isaiah should have had Genevieve back in town by now.

I shot Dad a look, silently conveying my worry. With one nod, I knew he felt the same. But I didn’t want to worry Bryce even more.

“He probably took her someplace to get warm,” I assured her. “We’ll give them thirty minutes to call back. Then we’ll go looking.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

“All right. Since we’ve got thirty minutes”—Dad faced Bryce—“what happened?”

“I went to my parents’ house for dinner last night. It was almost dark when I got home. I was tired and didn’t bother turning on the lights because . . . I was tired. I just wanted to go to bed.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “Then he was there. I tried to fight him off but he was too strong. He taped my hands and ankles together, gagged me so tight I could barely swallow. Then he hauled me out the back door to the alley. No one would have seen us out there, not in my neighborhood. Everyone’s asleep after seven. He stuffed me in the back of a car. In the trunk.”

My stomach pitched. She’d been in a trunk? This fucker was dead. He’d put my woman in a trunk. If I had just been there, if I hadn’t left after she’d told me she was pregnant, none of this would have happened.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, lacing her fingers with mine as she read my thoughts.

“Should have been there.”

“He would have found another way. This was planned. He wanted you to think Genevieve had taken me so you’d go after her.”

“Why?” Emmett asked. “Did he say why?”

Bryce shook her head. “Just that he wanted to win an old war.”

“The Warriors,” Leo bit out. “Tucker lied to us.”

“You’re right,” I said. “It has to be the Warriors, but Tucker isn’t the kind of man who would hide his intentions. If he had a beef with us, he’d own it. Hell, he’d brag about fucking us over. So why hide behind a ruse? Why try to frame Genevieve? How did he even know about her?”

“My gut says it’s not the Warriors.” Dad stood, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. “That Tucker’s been telling the truth from the beginning. This is someone else. Someone knows I went to meet with Amina that night. He knows she—we—had a daughter and went after Genevieve too. Bottom line, this is all about me. Making me pay.”

“Who?” Emmett asked. “We’ve been trying to come up with a target for a damn month and we’re no closer now than we were the day you got arrested.”

“What else happened?” I asked Bryce. “After he loaded you into the trunk, what else happened?”

“We drove,” she said. “For a long time. Then he parked and got out. It was a while later that he came back with Genevieve.”

“Bozeman. Bet he took you to Bozeman to grab Genevieve after her flight got in. Probably took her from the hotel. Which meant he had to know she was coming. Do you know who else she told about coming here?”

Bryce shook her head. “As far as I know, it was just me. But if he was watching—I don’t know, can you hack someone’s credit card transactions?”

“Yeah,” Emmett told her. “It doesn’t take much.”

“That makes me feel safe,” she muttered.

I’d wait until a different day to tell her Emmett had broken into her accounts the day after she’d shown up at the garage.

“Let’s find out what hotel Genevieve was at. Maybe they have video footage of him taking her.” Though I wouldn’t hold my breath. This guy was smart. He’d taken precautions. Even in the mountains, he’d been covered head to toe. “Did he show his face?”

“No.” Bryce’s shoulders fell. “Not once.”

“Then he took you up to the mountains, right?” Dad asked.

“Yep. He made us pose for the picture. He said he wanted you guys to find me dead because then you’d kill Genevieve. He had me on my knees. The gun . . .” She swallowed hard. “The gun was to my head. I really thought that was it. Thank God, it wasn’t. I guess you got there faster than he’d expected.”

“Did he . . .” I swallowed hard. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She gave me a sad smile. “He pushed me and Genevieve around, but nothing more.”

Other than trying to kill her.

He’d die for that. Except we’d missed our shot. “Fuck, I wish I hadn’t missed.”

When was the last time I’d missed a target? Years. But I hadn’t shot a gun in a year either. I needed to fit in time at the range. I’d been so close with my shot, but after sprinting up the mountain, my heart had been racing. Then to see the guy holding Genevieve, I’d made a split-second decision to shoot at him instead of Genevieve.

“I’m just glad you didn’t shoot Genevieve,” Bryce said. “Where are they? Can you call them again?”

Dad took out his phone and made the call. He didn’t leave the room as he pressed it to his ear. The rings were loud enough for us to hear until they ended and he dropped the phone. “No answer.”