Daniel gathered her into his arms, his heart beating steady under her ear. He spoke to her, but lost in her grief, swamped by fear, she couldn’t make out the words.
Her phone chimed with an incoming text with one word: routine. A second message arrived with a link to a website. She clicked on it immediately. It was a video of Aiden sitting on a twin bed in a small room. Only fifteen seconds long, she watched her son wave at the camera and say, “Hi, Mommy,” when prompted by someone off screen.
Shannon blinked away the tears so she could see clearly. She saved the video to her phone, just in case the sender removed it from the site. Then she replayed the video over and over, soaking in every nuance on her son’s sweet face.
“He’s confused. His eyebrows furrow right there when he’s confused.” She tapped the screen and paused the video. “Does he look scared to you?” She angled the phone for Daniel. “What do you think they told him?”
“No idea,” he said. “You can ask him once he’s back home. Give me a minute to update Grant.”
“No,” she protested. “They said normal routine.” Panic sank deep in her belly, clawed at her. “I’ve never been to the Escape Club. I never helped you stage a house.” She leaped to her feet, grabbed her purse. “I have to go.”
“Slow down.” He nudged her back to her seat, held her there with the lightest touch of his hands on her shoulders. “I heard the order. We’ll get back to the routine. Grant needs this so he can have someone with the right skills analyze the link and the video.”
He was right. “Okay.” She forwarded the video to the email address he gave her.
“Bradley’s behind this,” she murmured as he exchanged messages with Grant. “The demand to make him cooperate with himself doesn’t make sense, I know that. But he’s behind it. The caller was using his words.”
“A script? It sounded stiff, I’ll give you that,” Daniel agreed. “If he wants his kid, wouldn’t he—”
“Don’t say that. He can’t want Aiden.” She didn’t have the resources to fight that kind of custody battle. “He can’t have my son.” Her breath came fast and she couldn’t slow it down. Her arms tingled. She was too young for a heart attack, she thought as the room started to spin.
“Whoa, slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”
She reached for him, clinging and desperate. “Help,” she wheezed.
“It happens,” he crooned. “Breathe like this.” He pursed his lips and she did the same. “There you go, just take it easy. You’ll be all right. Easy, easy now. Slow it down. You’re doing great.”
His solid, gentle voice was wonderful, but she still felt horrible. Closing her eyes made the dizziness worse.
Daniel shifted his stance. “Let me help?”
She bobbed her chin, locked her eyes with his. He had the most amazing eyes. She focused on that deep, deep blue as he moved her hand over her mouth, held it there. He pressed a finger to one nostril.
“Keep breathing. You’re doing great.”
Slowly, her lungs recovered and she felt better as the strange method brought her breath under control. He carefully released the pressure on her nose while keeping her hand over her mouth.
“Better?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she managed around their layered hands. The dizziness passed and her arms were back to normal.
“You’re sure?”
She eased back, more than a little embarrassed that she’d lost it. Again. “How many times do you think you’ll have to rescue me from myself today?” His smile, so open and easy, soothed her immeasurably. “Thank you.”
Daniel gave her shoulders a squeeze. “It will be okay.”
“I don’t want to stay here. Not after that call.”
“We’re going. Back to your place,” he added, preempting her next question. His phone sounded off and he showed her the reply from Grant. “See? He already has someone tearing into the video.”
“All right. Thanks.” She stood up, needing his assistance for only a moment before she felt steady. She checked the time. “This is about the time I’d be home with Aiden on a Saturday afternoon.”
He pulled out his keys. “Then that’s where we’ll be.” His phone rang with an incoming call this time. “Grant,” he said, picking up.
“I’ll turn out the lights.” Shannon worked her way from the master suite, through the bedrooms and back to the hall bathroom where she stopped to splash cool water on her face.
Her routine and normal behavior didn’t include crying jags or hyperventilating. She had to get herself together or she wouldn’t stand a chance against whatever Bradley had planned. She didn’t have any idea how she’d manage to pretend everything was fine while her son was being held hostage who-knew-where. She only knew she had to be convincing. She had no doubt Aiden’s life depended on her performance in the hours—probably days—ahead.
Nothing was off-limits and no one was safe when Bradley set his mind on owning or controlling something. Seven years ago, when he’d spotted her in the bar during a conference in Miami, that something had been her. She’d been swept off her feet, falling for the charming façade.
“You were naive,” she told her puffy-faced reflection. “Not anymore.” She raised her shirt to dry her face and gave herself another long look. “He fooled you, held all the cards.” And she’d escaped. “Not anymore. You’re stronger than he knows.”
She ran her hands over her hair, tugging the wispy bangs into place over her forehead. The only hope for her eyes was dark sunglasses. All traces of the mascara she’d swept on this morning were long gone. Didn’t matter.
“Believe.” Daniel said that was her primary task right now. “Aiden is coming home. Believe it.”
Hearing her in the hall bath, Daniel backpedaled to the kitchen. He didn’t mean to catch her coaching herself, yet he’d worried when she hadn’t come back right away. The overhead light in the hall winked out and she paused in the kitchen doorway.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Getting there.”
He’d relayed everything she’d said to Grant, caught between trusting her assessment of her ex’s involvement and common sense. There hadn’t been enough time to develop a real lead, though the video could prove helpful. Though learning construction at his dad’s hip had taught him patience, he knew the waiting would wear down her resolve. He’d just find a way to help her through it.
“Do you date at all?” he asked.
Her pale eyebrows furrowed over her nose same way her son’s had. “Beg pardon?”
“I’m thinking about the concert.” He felt like a jerk for bringing it up, for pushing her more after such a traumatic day. “We need to go, but if dating isn’t normal for you, I’m not sure how to proceed. Grant’s leaving the decision to us.”
“Oh.”
That wasn’t exactly the clarification he needed. “Do you ever go out with girlfriends? It’s Saturday night.” He watched her closely while his mind sifted through the tasks ahead. Training with the PFD had conditioned him to dive in, to problem-solve and help. In that role, he rarely felt helpless, thanks to training and teamwork. Assisting on a kidnapping in any capacity was way more than he’d ever expected to do.
“How can they ask me to be normal?”