Made For Loving You (Rescue My Heart Book 3)

by Kait Nolan

  Ty’s hands curled to fists. “Yeah, well, it worked.”

  Ivy waved that off, frowning as she continued to work the problem in her head. “But why take her now? If he wants to be the good guy, the one she turns to, how does this support that goal?”

  “Why does that matter? He took her. End of story.”

  “Because it tells us something about how much direct danger she’s in. Whether this is somehow a continuation of some elaborate hoax or if he’s fallen into the territory of ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’ For the record, all the evidence points to the former.”

  “It’s all a good theory, but we need evidence. Leads. Where the hell did he take her? The BOLO on his vehicle hasn’t turned up anything. We don’t know if he’s on his way back to Nashville or if he’s gone to ground here.”

  “Metro PD is sending someone to his house,” Xander reported.

  “We need copies of his financials and phone records,” Leanne added. “I’m working on getting a warrant for that.”

  “So far, the property search isn’t turning up much. Other than his house in Nashville, nothing’s coming up,” Laurel reported. “If he’s got somewhere specific to take her, it’s either not his or the deed is in someone else’s name. You said he was divorced. Maybe there’s something under the ex-wife.”

  Ty paced a restless circuit around the room. “This is all taking too much time.” He’d had her for nearly four hours. That was long enough to get back to Nashville or even leave the state entirely.

  “It’s what we’ve got,” Xander said easily. “Everybody in town is keeping a lookout for Paisley and Duke. The phone tree and the town’s social media were updated. We’re doing the best we can.”

  Before he could roar that it wasn’t good enough, Paisley’s cell phone began to ring. The number flashing on the screen wasn’t in her contacts and had a local prefix.

  Ty snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Yes, uh, are you missin’ a dog?”

  His hands tightened on the phone. “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Mel Jackson. This friendly fella came running out of the woods by my house. Ran right on up to me. I saw he had a collar and corralled him so he couldn’t run off again.”

  “Can you describe the dog?”

  “Looks like some kind of shepherd lab mix. Mostly kind of tan with some white on his chest, black on his tail. This number was on his collar.”

  An iota of relief trickled through. “That’s Duke. Is he injured?”

  “Seems fine to me. Pretty agitated though.”

  “I’m coming to get him. Where are you?” He took down the address and hung up. “Duke just showed up at Mel Jackson’s place out on Sweet Gum Road.”

  Xander frowned. “That’s all the way on the other side of the county.”

  “What’s near there?”

  “Not much. Some farmland. Forest. The old Eary settlement.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It was a town back in the eighteen hundreds. Porter could tell you more about why it was abandoned than I could. He was always more into history than I was. But anyway, what passes for roads have been overgrown for decades. I haven’t been out there in years, but last time I was there, very little was still standing. Mostly a bunch of structures that collapsed years ago.”

  “There’s a church.” Everybody turned to Laurel, who flipped her laptop around. “It’s on a couple of sites for abandoned places.”

  “You think he could’ve taken her there?” Leanne asked.

  “I don’t know. Duke wouldn’t have made it that far on foot. But as you’ve pointed out, it’d be hard to get in and out of with an unconscious or unwilling person. It’s just as possible Fisher dumped the dog over that way in hopes of distracting us while he gets the hell out of Dodge.” But Ty’s gut was screaming that this was the break they needed. He exchanged a look with Harrison and Sebastian. “I’m going to get him.”

  Harrison pushed up. “I’ll drive you to pick him up.”

  “I’ll follow you out and look him over, just to make sure he’s really fine,” Sebastian added.

  Xander jerked his head toward the inn office. “All three of you.”

  Despite the fact that he was itching to leave, Ty followed his boss inside.

  Xander kept his voice low. “I wasn’t born yesterday. What the hell are you planning?”

  “I’m going to get Paisley’s dog.”

  “You think she’s up at Eary.”

  “Maybe,” Ty allowed.

  “I can talk to Chris about pulling the SAR team back. But it’ll take time to reconvene over there.”

  Ty shook his head. “It’ll take time and might be a waste of it. There’s no need to pull them off the search where they are without more evidence. I want to check it out. I might just be chasing my own tail, but if he does have her up there, a small, highly trained team is much more likely to be able to get to her without being detected. SAR teams are trained to make noise so the lost will hear them. We’re trained to be ghosts.”

  Dark eyes studied his. “I don’t like it. But I’m aware you’re gonna do it anyway, so you’re damned well gonna stop by the station first. These two need tactical gear.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t do anything I’m gonna have to arrest you for.”

  Ty’s mouth twitched. “Understood.”

  With the stop by the Sheriff’s Department to pick up gear and Ty’s cruiser, it took longer than he wanted to get to Mel Jackson’s place. As soon as he pulled up, the front door opened, and a grizzled old guy in an ancient Army jacket edged out. Ty recognized him as one of the veterans who volunteered as security up at the courthouse.

  “Mr. Jackson? I’m Deputy Brooks. We spoke about the dog.”

  “He belongs to your little lady.” Mel’s sober tone made it clear he’d finally heard the news about Paisley’s disappearance.

  “Yes.”

  Nodding once, Mel opened the door again and Duke bulleted out, making straight for Ty, barking with none of his usual joy. The sound was deeper, more forceful. He stopped just out of arm’s reach and stamped his feet before wheeling and running a little ways back toward the woods. He stopped, offering another sharp bark and stomp.

  Sebastian shut his truck door. “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

  Sending up a prayer to whatever deity might be listening, Ty popped his trunk. “If there’s a God, he’s pulling a Lassie. Suit up.”

  Chapter 15

  Paisley was strapped back to the damned chair, this time with plastic cuffs. If she’d been able to move her arms, she could’ve broken free. Joel had taught her how to do that himself during the citizen’s police academy. But without some slack to build up momentum, she was stuck. She’d expected him to drug her again and haul her off to wherever he’d been planning. He hadn’t even tried. She realized he hadn’t come prepared for that. Wherever they were was remote, and he didn’t seem to have a vehicle nearby to just drive them out. He’d well and truly expected her to hike out with him like a good little rescued kidnapping victim.

  Well, she’d screwed that, hadn’t she?

  But as Joel continued to restlessly pace the church, tunneling his fingers through his hair and muttering, she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He didn’t really want to hurt her. For all he’d manhandled her, he’d used only as much force as necessary to subdue her. If she had waited to make her move until they were somewhere less remote, when other people were around, or even until they were further into the woods where she might’ve found a handy branch or something, maybe she could have managed a true escape.

  Too late now.

  She hadn’t played into his narrative and now there was no going back.

  His agitation made it clear he wasn’t great at thinking on his feet. He wanted to consider all the angles. How long until he figured out there was no getting out of this situation? He’d kidnapped her. Presumably, he was the one behind the harassment that had stolen her pea
ce of mind. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let him just get away with that, which meant he couldn’t afford to let her walk away.

  Paisley didn’t like any of the outcomes of that scenario.

  Maybe if she got him talking about something else so he couldn’t actively consider what to do, it would buy more time. Duke was free. If Joel had noticed, he hadn’t let on, and she wasn’t going to point it out. Surely her incredibly social dog would find the nearest person, who’d notify someone. People would be looking for her by now. She just needed to give them a chance to get to her.

  “This isn’t how things were supposed to turn out,” he muttered. “Not at all.”

  “How were they supposed to turn out? How was all this supposed to work?” She let genuine curiosity rather than scorn fill her voice. The writer in her really wanted to know, and focusing on that helped keep the panic at bay.

  His head shot up, his eyes full of frustrated misery. “We were supposed to get out of here. Successful rescue and proof that I can keep you safe. Then we’d head back to the safehouse in Nashville, so you’d finally spend the time you need with me to get to know me and see. You just needed time.”

  “See what?”

  “That we’re meant to be. I knew it almost from the first time I met you. You’re the first person who made me feel like somebody after the divorce. You treated me like I had value. Like I wasn’t a middle-aged loser, who’d peaked too soon, going nowhere in a cheap suit. Like I had something to offer. We were friends, you and I. And it was so clear we have the potential to be more.” He gently skimmed his fingers over her cheek, his expression soft.

  Paisley fought not to flinch away from the touch.

  “I needed that. I needed you. I got that you weren’t single when I asked you out after the academy. But once you were, you kept saying no.”

  As the softness melted back into frustration, she swallowed. “I wasn’t in a place for a relationship. I told you that.”

  “I know. So, I wanted to position myself to be there for you when you were.”

  “I don’t understand.” Keep him talking. Play dumb. Get a confession.

  “I just wanted to scare you a little,” he admitted. “It was way too easy to do. You really need to be more aware of your surroundings when you’re out in public.”

  “You? The mugging was you?” She’d assumed he’d sent the packages, but she didn’t have to feign shock at this. She’d trusted him. Believed he had her best interests at heart.

  The more fool me.

  “You were supposed to turn to me. I’m the one who was there for you. I’m the one who cared. But it was business as usual after that. So, I had to get creative. Find something to nudge you back into my orbit.”

  “So, you…what? Made up a fake crazy fan?”

  “It was child’s play, really, after the stuff you talked about at the academy. You have such a vivid imagination. It seemed like a low-threat option that would be easy to do away with once I didn’t need it anymore. It was never supposed to go this far. But you didn’t do what you were supposed to. You turned to him.”

  Reminding him of Ty didn’t seem like a good idea.

  “Why? I don’t understand why you’d go to such lengths—creating some kind of false danger—just to get my attention.”

  Joel stared at her as if that were the most obvious piece of this whole mess. “I wanted to be your hero.”

  “You have a gross misunderstanding about what a hero is.” The words were out before she could think better of them.

  His bitter snort echoed off the rafters. “I suppose you’ll say a hero is supposed to be like Ty Brooks. Small town deputy and your old friend.”

  Paisley didn’t quite manage to stop the roll of her eyes at his derision. He had no idea who Ty really was. The motion put one of the windows in her periphery. Was that movement or just the trees shifting in the wind?

  “Tell me, Paisley, what is it he has that I don’t? Why did you choose him?”

  Ignoring the question, she opted to educate. For now, he was listening to her. If she could keep him engaged, it would buy more time, and this was a topic she could talk about for hours. “Heroism is not about physical protection from danger. It’s not about feats of derring do. Those are men’s definitions—and yeah, they’re valid, but they aren’t the only kinds of heroism out there. For most women, they aren’t even the most important. I mean, I like a badass as much as the next gal, but most of us don’t live lives where that’s relevant all the time.”

  Warming to her topic, she tried to lean forward, only to be stopped by the cuffs. “For me, heroism is about being what I need. Seeing what needs doing and doing it because you can. Making my life easier in a million tiny ways, like picking up my favorite wine on the way home because you know I had a lousy writing day or walking the dog and making breakfast in bed because I was up too late. Doing the vacuuming because you remember that one time I ran over my toe right after I had surgery and have a little bit of trauma about it. You talk about wanting me to see you. That’s exactly what this is about. Seeing your partner for who they really are as a person. Not as a glorified ideal. Not as a maid or a mother or a plaything. That’s the number one complaint I hear from my readers. That their partners don’t see them. That goes beyond annoyances like leaving the toilet seat up or dirty clothes all over the floor. Women want men who will wade into the trenches of everyday life, not just making sure the doors are locked at night and sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the door in case the boogieman breaks in or whatever other things the patriarchy has deemed acceptable masculine behaviors. They want actual partners.”

  Joel was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. That was fine. She wasn’t really talking to him anymore.

  “That’s not heroic,” he insisted.

  “To the exhausted mom of two, who hasn’t slept in weeks, or the career woman trying to get a promotion and juggle her marriage it is. Really, it’s not your fault for not understanding that. You’re a victim of toxic masculinity. Decades of programming designed to maintain the status quo. And where’s that gotten you? Divorced from a marriage where probably neither of you really saw each other, married to a job I’m not entirely sure you actually like, well down the path of what started out as an effort to think outside the box and has devolved into a problematic hot mess in the middle of freaking nowhere, with the woman you purport to care about tied to a chair.”

  He had the grace to wince at that.

  “You wanted to know what Ty has that you don’t, why I chose him? History. A long and involved one that finally brought us back together after years apart. I love him. I’ve always loved him, flaws and all. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a former Army Ranger who currently has a gun trained on your head.”

  The door burst open.

  Paisley threw her weight to the side, tipping the chair as Joel reached for his gun and spun. Shots rang out, and she screamed, watching Joel’s body buck and fall into one of the pews, knocking it askew. Footsteps thundered inside, accompanied by a tawny blur. Snarling and snapping, her precious, peaceable dog sank his teeth into Joel’s ass. The weak, wheezing howl proved her kidnapper was not, in fact, dead.

  Moving, swift and efficient, Ty closed the distance, kicking Joel’s gun out of reach. Beyond him, Harrison and Sebastian moved in, their own weapons trained on the writhing man. None of them did anything to deter Duke.

  “Aren’t you going to stop him?” Paisley demanded.

  Lowering his weapon, Ty set it aside and righted her chair. “I mean, at least one of us deserves to get a piece of him. Duke’s the one who led us to you, so by rights, he gets dibs.”

  “You already shot him!”

  “Bean bag round. Doesn’t count. Though he’s probably got a few cracked or busted ribs by the sound of that breathing.” Crouching down, he cupped her cheek. “You okay?”

  “Shaken up. Little sore. But yeah. He didn’t hurt me.”

  Ty’s throat
worked, and his lips finally twitched into something resembling a smile. “Only you would manage to distract a kidnapper with a lecture on the patriarchy and toxic masculinity.”

  She searched his face, soaking in the sight of him and wondering how much he’d heard. “It wasn’t just for his benefit.”

  Dropping his gaze, he pulled out a tactical knife and began slicing through the plastic cuffs.

  Understanding now wasn’t the time, she took pity on the still screaming Joel. “Duke! Come here, baby.”

  With one last bark, as if to say, “And don’t you forget it!” her dog trotted over, tail wagging, mouth spread in a broad, canine grin. He rubbed against her, whining, licking. As soon as her hands were free, she wrapped her arms around him. “You’re such a good boy. As soon as we get home, I’m getting you the biggest, juiciest steak I can find.”

  She felt Ty pull back even before he walked over to Joel, yanking his hands behind his back and slapping on cuffs. “You’re under arrest for kidnapping, assault, breaking and entering, and that’s just for starters.”

  Joel screamed again as Ty hauled him to his feet. “I need…medical attention.”

  “Yeah, you’ll get it. Eventually. That’s the thing, though. You picked such an out-of-the-way place, it’s gonna take us a while to get you back for any. So you’re gonna have to deal with that well-deserved mess Duke made of your butt cheek. Meanwhile, you’ve got the right to remain silent.”

  He finished mirandizing Joel and only then radioed back to report she’d been found and make arrangements for extraction. By the time more help had arrived, he still hadn’t touched her again. He’d hardly even looked at her. As she slid onto the back of an ATV—with Harrison instead of Ty—Paisley accepted that the mission was over, objective achieved, and she was going to have to find a way to live with letting him go.