nose, wrestling with her to keep it on. Chloroform was odorless and colorless, and could be deadly. As her eyes grew heavy, all she remembered was a voice far off in the distance saying, “Nothing personal, lass.”
Chapter 17
Grant paced back and forth in front of the motel room, uneasy about what was going to take place today. Ramsey had landed that morning, bringing with him everything Grant had asked for. He felt better having one more man on his side. Besides, he never had any intention of giving these men any more money, but he was going to see them go to jail and get Keltie back. He rolled the plan over and over in his head, trying to make sure there were no loopholes so that nothing would go wrong.
He should have called the police and had this done and over with, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
He rolled his neck to ease the tension then tilted his head to the sky. He brought up images of Abigail, needing a distraction. He remembered sitting with her at the restaurant. They had a great time getting to know each other. He loved the way she laughed. Not just because her laugh was contagious and something she did with her whole face. No. Her laugh wasn’t fake.
Abigail was everything he had hoped she would be. The months they’d been talking, he had created this woman in his mind and he was afraid the real Abigail wouldn’t add up. But she did, and his heart was glad.
On the flight over here, she had plagued his mind, and he’d been nervous. Nervous to meet her because he hoped she was someone he could get to know and nervous because she had the shield he’d been searching for all along.
Abigail was beautiful, smart, and they shared the same interests. Dinner had been great. They’d barely touched their food for never having a lull in conversation. That was important to him. He wanted someone he could talk to.
He reached into his back pocket and slid out his cell phone. Why hadn’t she called him? Peering in through the window, he saw Graham and Christina sitting at the table discussing details. Malcolm exited the restroom having just showered and waved to him. He waved back.
A gentle wind blew and he found the fresh air soothing, common and reliable in this unpredictable world. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Abigail’s number and dialed it. Orchestra music serenaded him. Kicking at the parking block, he stopped when the ringing stopped.
His heart lightened. “Abigail, it’s Grant.”
No answer.
“Abigail?”
“Grant?”
Something was wrong. He noticed a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Are you okay? You sound funny?”
He heard Abigail say no, before there was a moment of silence.
“Abigail,” he hollered, anticipation gripping him. Please let her answer. Please let her be all right.
“Abigail, answer me.”
“Abigail is busy at the moment,” a man’s voice said over the phone.
Grant turned and punched the door, anger ripping through him in waves. Not Abigail.
Malcolm opened the door, dressed only in his jeans and shoes.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
Grant pointed to the phone, whispering. “They have Abigail.” His blood began to boil.
Malcolm placed his hand over the bottom of the phone to block his voice. “Do you recognize a voice?”
Grant shook his head.
“Place the cell on ‘speaker.’ Maybe I can tell who the man is.”
“Put Abigail on the phone,” Grant demanded. There was something about the voice that tugged at the back of his mind. As if he should recognize the bastard who had Abigail.
“I don’t think so, Mr. MacFie. You are in no place to demand anything from me.”
Malcolm touched his arm. Shock etched across his face. “It’s the boss, the man who took Keltie.”
“Is Abigail all right?”
An impatient sigh. “For now.”
“Why do you have her? She isn’t a part of this.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You made her a part of this.”
“If you hurt her, I swear—”
“You will not be threatening me.” The bastard sounded
Chapter 17
Grant paced back and forth in front of the motel room, uneasy about what was going to take place today. Ramsey had landed that morning, bringing with him everything Grant had asked for. He felt better having one more man on his side. Besides, he never had any intention of giving these men any more money, but he was going to see them go to jail and get Keltie back. He rolled the plan over and over in his head, trying to make sure there were no loopholes so that nothing would go wrong.
He should have called the police and had this done and over with, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
He rolled his neck to ease the tension then tilted his head to the sky. He brought up images of Abigail, needing a distraction. He remembered sitting with her at the restaurant. They had a great time getting to know each other. He loved the way she laughed. Not just because her laugh was contagious and something she did with her whole face. No. Her laugh wasn’t fake.
Abigail was everything he had hoped she would be. The months they’d been talking, he had created this woman in his mind and he was afraid the real Abigail wouldn’t add up. But she did, and his heart was glad.
On the flight over here, she had plagued his mind, and he’d been nervous. Nervous to meet her because he hoped she was someone he could get to know and nervous because she had the shield he’d been searching for all along.
Abigail was beautiful, smart, and they shared the same interests. Dinner had been great. They’d barely touched their food for never having a lull in conversation. That was important to him. He wanted someone he could talk to.
He reached into his back pocket and slid out his cell phone. Why hadn’t she called him? Peering in through the window, he saw Graham and Christina sitting at the table discussing details. Malcolm exited the restroom having just showered and waved to him. He waved back.
A gentle wind blew and he found the fresh air soothing, common and reliable in this unpredictable world. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Abigail’s number and dialed it. Orchestra music serenaded him. Kicking at the parking block, he stopped when the ringing stopped.
His heart lightened. “Abigail, it’s Grant.”
No answer.
“Abigail?”
“Grant?”
Something was wrong. He noticed a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Are you okay? You sound funny?”
He heard Abigail say no, before there was a moment of silence.
“Abigail,” he hollered, anticipation gripping him. Please let her answer. Please let her be all right.
“Abigail, answer me.”
“Abigail is busy at the moment,” a man’s voice said over the phone.
Grant turned and punched the door, anger ripping through him in waves. Not Abigail.
Malcolm opened the door, dressed only in his jeans and shoes.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
Grant pointed to the phone, whispering. “They have Abigail.” His blood began to boil.
Malcolm placed his hand over the bottom of the phone to block his voice. “Do you recognize a voice?”
Grant shook his head.
“Place the cell on ‘speaker.’ Maybe I can tell who the man is.”
“Put Abigail on the phone,” Grant demanded. There was something about the voice that tugged at the back of his mind. As if he should recognize the bastard who had Abigail.
“I don’t think so, Mr. MacFie. You are in no place to demand anything from me.”
Malcolm touched his arm. Shock etched across his face. “It’s the boss, the man who took Keltie.”
“Is Abigail all right?”
An impatient sigh. “For now.”
“Why do you have her? She isn’t a part of this.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You made her a part of this.”
“If you hurt her, I swear—”
“You will not be threatening me.” The bastard sounded
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