Hearing the location, a location Tess was at twenty minutes ago, and he knew this because he was on the fucking phone with her twenty fucking minutes ago, every cell in Brock Lucas’s body stopped moving.

The captain kept speaking, “… reporting an elderly man had opened fire on a black sedan. When units hit the scene, the shooter was gone, there was a man down, still alive outside the car, and two men dead in the car. Damian Heller was one of those men.”

Brock didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even fucking blink.

“I’m sorry, son, but Tessa O’Hara’s phone and purse were found in the back of that sedan.”

Brock closed his eyes.

The captain kept going. “Witnesses report she went with the elderly man, who was holding her at gunpoint.”

Brock opened his eyes.

The captain finished, saying quietly, “The descriptions of the shooter match Josiah Burkett.”

Instantly, he turned on his boot, heading for the door.

Nightingale and Chavez were already there, prepared, and if he had any room for anything else in his brain, anything other than his sweet Tess in the hands of a whacked, sick lunatic who he had set on this path to revenge, making it him who’d made his Tess unsafe, he would have cottoned onto why those two were chosen. Not a lot of men could lock Brock down but those two could.

“Lucas, you need to stay calm and listen to me,” Cap ordered urgently.

Brock stopped in front of Nightingale and Chavez.

“Outta my fuckin’ way,” he growled, his eyes moving direct to both of theirs.

They didn’t move a muscle. If anything was on his mind other than the putrid garbage that was filling it, he would have seen understanding in their eyes, concern.

But nothing was on his mind but his Tess in the sick, twisted hands of Josiah fucking Burkett.

“Lucas,” Cap called. “Son, calm down and listen to me. You don’t, we’ll lock you down. And you don’t need that, you don’t want that. I know you don’t. Not now. Be smart, turn around, and listen to me.”

Brock looked over his shoulder. “Get them outta my way.”

“We’ll find her,” Cap promised.

“When?” Brock asked, turning. “After he beats the shit outta her? After he plays his sick fuckin’ games with her? Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” He said the last on a roar. “She’s been through this before.”

“I know, son, listen to—”

Brock turned his back on the captain and lifted a finger in Nightingale’s face. “I want your brother on this, fuckin’ now.”

“He is, Slim. I already called him,” Hank said quietly. “All his boys are on the hunt.”

“Delgado,” Brock snarled, his eyes moving to Chavez. “He needs to mobilize.”

“That call’s been made too,” Eddie told him. “He’s got his team in play.”