“Doesn’t matter. The less you know the better.”

Which meant he didn’t intend to kill them? Possibly. Doubtful. The voice was familiar, though. Think!

He walked over to Gavin and Gavin recognized the cell phone in his hand as his own. The man shook it at him. “Sit tight, Sarah will be joining us shortly.”

“You’re not the one who snatched me from the parking lot.”

“I had a little help.”

“What’s this all about?”

“I needed the general to get you here.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes, doing his best to ignore the fact that his hands were going numb. “I’m here. Now what?”

“Now, you get Sarah here.”

“Not a chance.”

“Definitely a chance.” His jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. “I had it all set up in Afghanistan and you ruined it. None of this would have happened if you’d just stayed away.”

Realization was a painful thing. “You set up her kidnapping.”

“And lost a ton of money on that because of you. I’d paid for it with money I didn’t have, but it was supposed to be fine, because once Sarah signed the papers, I would have made that back and more. So, this is all on you.”

“And you plan to get her here how?”

“Easy peasy.” He waved the phone again. “All it took was a text from you.”

Gavin laughed, the sound more pained than he would have liked. “She has 24/7 bodyguards. Good luck.” This man had been behind Sarah’s kidnapping. That had been no small feat to set up. That had taken power—and lots of it.

“She’ll find a way to slip away from them,” his captor was saying, “if she doesn’t want to see you die.”

“Me? What about her father? You don’t think she’d be concerned about him?”

“Not really. That’s why I needed you.”

Sarah’s phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen. “Gavin.”

“What?” Asher looked up.

She ignored him and read silently.

Hey, I’m following up on a lead at 11 Harrison Street. I’m almost finished. You want to meet me here and we’ll go grab something to eat?

Meet him there? Really? She almost typed yes, but then shook her head. He wouldn’t ask her to do that. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Then she typed,

Who is this?

Um . . . Gavin? You forget me already?

You’re not Gavin.

A pause. Three little dots to indicate someone typing a response. The dots disappeared. Then reappeared.

All right, then come alone to that address or the general and Gavin both die. How’s that?

A picture popped up and she gasped.

Gavin lay on the floor, tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her father was still bound to the chair. They both looked unconscious.

What do you want?