Not when Ollie seemed to be pulling away minute by minute, second by second.
He forced the thought down, along with the knot that was once again blocking his throat. Dammit, he didn’t need this shit. He was past this shit. He’d taken administrative leave after Greg walked. He’d gotten himself under control. And there was no fucking way he was losing that control again.
“Come on,” he said to Mario and Leah. “We’ll take the rear of the house. “Ollie, you and Brax cover the front.”
“Roger,” Brax said, as he and Ollie opened their doors. Trevor didn’t look back. Didn’t want to think about Ollie not brushing his fingers in a silent goodbye. Not watching when Trevor disappeared around to the back.
Not caring about anything but the mission.
Yeah, he was an asshole, all right. Because right then, the mission was all any of them should be caring about.
“You okay?” Mario’s whispered question caught him by surprise.
“A little off my game,” Trevor admitted. “Not enough sleep. I’ll be fine.” He glanced back, saw Mario’s eyes narrow before the tech genius crouched in front of the back door as he lifted the snap gun to unlock the deadbolt.
“If the man says he’s fine, he’s fine,” Leah said firmly, then added, “We’re going in,” as Mario shot them a thumbs up and put his hand on the knob.
“Roger that.” Ollie’s voice. And then Trev and Leah were on either side of Mario. Mario counted it off, and on three they entered, Trevor high and Leah low, their weapons at the ready.
“Clear,” Leah said, leading the way through the kitchen to where it opened into a living area. They maneuvered in further, clearing the rooms as they went, Trevor praying they’d find the son-of-a-bitch. Even better, that they’d find Courtney.
They didn’t. Not the woman, anyway. But they found her purse, and the moment they did, Trevor watched as Ollie’s stoic expression crumbled, and the man he loved fell to his knees, the tears flowing like water.
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s going to be okay. We’ll find her. We’ll do the drop. We’ll follow his rules, and we will find her.”
Trevor’s soft words surrounded Ollie, but he found no comfort in them. All he could think was that this was his fault. He’d kept drawing her back to him, and then ripping it all down again. And each time this guy must have been getting more and more frustrated. Bitch, you think you can just use me in between? You think I’ll put up with that?
He could practically hear Bobby’s voice in his head. The angry words. The violent temper, hidden under a surface that seemed so even and personable.
He knew the type. For that matter, he’d taken classes on the type when he was in training.
The type was dangerous.
And now Bobby had Courtney.
“Dammit, Ollie, look at me,” Trevor demanded. “We will get her back.”
“All of this,” Ollie said, feeling like he was being sucked into a deep, dark pit. “I can lay it all at my feet. If I hadn’t kept pulling her back—”
“You know better, Agent McKee,” Trevor snapped. “Don’t you even think about going there. This is about his particular psychosis, not about your relationship with Courtney, and you damn well know it. So quit feeling sorry for yourself, Agent. There’s a woman out there who needs your help. You don’t have the luxury of melting down.”
Ollie nodded, Trevor’s words finally pounding through the fear and self-loathing that had washed over him like a tsunami.
“I know. I know. I just—I just need a moment.” He had to pull himself together. Had to shut down the emotions, rely on his training, and do the job.
Trevor reached out to take his hand, but the moment their fingers brushed, Ollie drew back sharply. He couldn’t—not right then. Trevor was his refuge; the place where he could break down and pour out all his fears. All his guilt.
But he didn’t have the luxury of doing that right now, and a single touch could start the boulder downhill, and then he’d never stop. He’d be lost in grief, and that would be no help to Courtney.
No, he had to be professional. He had to concentrate on his training.
He had to do the job.
Slowly, he drew in a breath, then nodded, as much to himself as to Trevor. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready. Go gather the team.”
For a moment, Trevor only looked at him, his expression dark and a little sad. And why wouldn’t it be? They didn’t have the victim safely tucked away and the kidnapper was still on the loose. They were going to have to deliver the ransom, and that was the riskiest maneuver in a kidnapping. Trevor knew that as well as Ollie did.
Not a good situation. But Ollie wasn’t thinking about that. On the contrary, he was determined that he would see Courtney again. And when he did, she’d be alive and unharmed.
“Right,” Trevor said, not quite meeting Ollie’s eyes. “Five minutes. We’ll convene on the driveway.” He glanced around Bobby’s small bungalow. “Better outside. There’s a chance this place is wired.”
“Good thinking,” Ollie said as they moved outside and into the front yard. “In fact, let’s get a team in here to sweep for that. If Bobby is listening in, maybe we can trace it back.”
“On it,” Trevor said, then moved away. This time, he didn’t reach for Ollie, and even though Ollie couldn’t afford the distraction of Trevor’s touch—even though he needed to cling to pure professionalism if he was going to get through this—that simple absence weighed on him.
Outside, the two teams gathered in the driveway, speaking in low voices to avoid being overheard by any of the neighbors.
“We have two hours until the ransom drop,” Trevor said. “Unless anyone else has a better idea, we’re going to move forward as planned. Ollie will take the money in, leave it at the drop site. We’ll have eyes on for as long as it takes, but hopefully he’ll make a move to get the cash within twenty-four hours. According to his instructions, once he’s acquired the cash, he’ll let us know where to find Courtney.”
He glanced around at the group, his eyes skimming over Ollie without even hesitating. “We’ll follow the money, but the hostage is our priority. Questions?”
There were none, and so the group split up, heading back into the Range Rovers to both plan and head to the drop site.
The site itself was a men’s room inside the Sherman Oaks Galleria. They parked a half mile away where a variety of base model cars were parked and ready for them, courtesy of ASAC Horowitz. The team switched from the Range Rovers to the cars, then each driver engaged in some evasive maneuvers before parking at the shopping center.
“You ready?” Trevor asked, his hands tight on the steering wheel, as if he was gluing himself in place.
“Yeah.” Ollie drew a breath. “Yeah, I’ve got this.” He reached over, then pressed his hand to Trevor’s thigh. He wanted to pull him in for a kiss. For support.
But he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to keep himself centered. Right then, he needed absolute focus.
One more breath, then he nodded. “Okay. Keep a close eye. I’m not keen on being taken out by one to the head.” Presumably the kevlar he wore under his shirt would take care of one to the chest, but he wasn’t wearing a kevlar skull cap. Wouldn’t matter anyway. Any self-respecting sniper would get him right between the eyes.