“Traffic cameras near Willow’s apartment building recorded her being dragged into a white van this morning.”

My heart ka-thunked painfully, and I tried to corral my thoughts enough to focus on the important details. “Was she conscious?”

“No, but she appeared unharmed. Potentially drugged.”

“Fuck.” I rubbed my eyelids as Kade and Zeke conferred in low voices. “Have you got a registration number for the van?”

“We do. I’m sending it to you now. I’ve put out a BOLO and we’ll see if we can follow the van using the traffic cams, but the area is notoriously patchy.”

“Do what you can, and I’ll get Zeke on it too.”

She sighed. “Just tell him to keep it legal.”

“I will.” But we both knew Zeke would do what it took. “Keep me posted. Got to go.”

I hung up, and my screen flashed with Joanna’s message containing the vehicle registration number. I forwarded it to Zeke.

“Find this van. I don’t care how.” All I cared about was Willow being recovered safely from whatever hellhole she’d been taken to. I pictured her locked in a warehouse, battering on the doors, unable to escape, and closed my eyes. I couldn’t afford to dwell on that or it would cripple me. “I also want locations and anything else you can find on Tom Lennox and Adrian Petrov.”

If Tom had anything to do with his sister’s disappearance, I’d make sure he saw the inside of a jail cell.

“Got it, boss.” Zeke leaped to his feet and left.

“What can I do?” Kade asked, scowling like he wanted to bust some heads.

“Get us prepared for a tactical operation. If Zeke finds Willow, I’m not waiting for the police. We’re going in.”

His expression was grim but purposeful. He clapped my shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll find her, and we’ll get her back. I may not always like Zeke, but he’s the best at what he does.”

“I know.”

I just hoped the best was good enough. Whoever abducted Willow had several hours of head start. By now, she could have been anywhere.

Kade left the office, and I started making calls. While I might not have been as skilled in combat as Kade or as technologically savvy as Zeke, I had a network that was the envy of half of Chicago, and plenty of people owed me favors.

It was time to call them in.

I was halfway through my contact list when my phone buzzed with a text. It was from Willow’s number.

I clicked on the message, and it opened, a photograph filling the screen.

My stomach dropped.

In the image, Willow sat tied to a chair, her head lolling back, unconscious.

Text popped up beneath it.

Willow: Sign over Lennox Securities to Adrian Petrov by midnight tonight or she’s dead.

I shot to my feet. “Zeke! Get in here!” Seconds later, my partner arrived at the door. I passed him the phone. “It’s Petrov. He’s got her.”

He scanned the message. “If it’s possible to get a location from the phone, I will.”