later, and the butter-laden foods had done nothing to assuage the increasing concern they wouldn’t find Violet in time.
“Let’s track it back, Ryan.” Reed flipped through a small notepad he’d pulled from his pocket earlier. “Can we trace Lange’s movements from when he was released? We’ve got him and his partner, Alex, for about three miles, but the trail goes cold after they get out of downtown.”
“We found them the other night in Fair Park at the warehouse Tripp owns.” Max stepped forward to point at one of the large computer monitors that currently showcased the view from eight different Dallas traffic cameras. “Did they go back?”
“The warehouse is blocked off, and there’s round-the-clock protection on it.” A dark look passed over Reed’s face, his mouth turned down in a hard frown. “Of course, there are supposed to be guards on it. Let me make a quick call and confirm that order didn’t get lost as neatly as Lange’s paperwork.”
Ryan stopped him. “Let me. I can pull the records from here. It’s a standard query.”
Within moments, Ryan let out a sigh. “Nope. Two officers have been there since the arrests last Thursday. No break in protocol and CSI is expected to sweep it fully on Monday.”
At the image of forensic detectives working through the warehouse for any clues, Max had a different thought. “What if we’re going about this wrong?”
“How so?” Ryan reached for his coffee, his ability to pass over the bakery box an impressive feat.
“Lange’s got to have dummy corporations layered under dummy corporations. What work’s been done to find the companies he owns?”
Reed flipped through his notebook once more. “We’ve been working on that. My partner, Jessie, spent all day yesterday combing real estate files. She couldn’t find a thing about the Fair Park property.”
“Which means the records have been wiped.” Ryan reached for a donut at that point, his excitement palpable. “Which is something I can do a heck of a lot with.”
Max gestured Reed toward the door. “Let’s give him a minute to work. I want to check in with Tucker, and I’m sure you want to call Lilah.”
Tucker had holed up with Lilah, Cassidy and his boxer, Bailey, at Lilah’s town house, and they owed them all a check-in. Reed followed him into the hall, and at the sound of cartoons echoing from the living room, they moved as far as they could in the opposite direction, their voices low.
“Wherever they are, sooner or later they’re coming back for the other two rubies. Violet’s alive until then.” Max balled his fists. She had to be.
Of course, if he knew Violet, there was no way she was giving up the location of her ruby. Nor would she even hint she didn’t know the location of its twin, hidden by Cassidy in a separate bank. Violet was a pro at assessing every situation and would no doubt battle Lange to the bitter end of whatever game the man was playing. As strategy went, he admired the hell out of her. But as someone who cared for her, one thought trumped all others in his mind.
What might happen to her in the meantime?
“Max?” Reed’s shoulders stiffened with awareness. “We can get to where Cassidy hid her ruby. What about Violet?”
Max pushed through the pain, forcing a calm he didn’t feel. “She’s been silent on which bank she used. No one’s gotten it out of her, and believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Do you think she told Lilah or Cassidy?”
“Tucker already told me Cassidy doesn’t know.”
“Damn it.” Reed paced a few steps down the quiet hallway before turning back. “She wanted to protect them. Which means she’s also going to try to bluff her way through the negotiation with my stepfather.”
The trio of biscuits in his stomach balled like lead at the image of Violet attempting to negotiate with Tripp Lange. “Would we expect anything less?”
A shout from the office had them both running, and Max stopped at the set of screens, a real estate document blown up on one of the monitors. “Here it is,” Ryan said. “It’s under Alex’s name, not Tripp’s. But if you trace the financial backing, you can find Lange all over it.”
“Where are they?”
“About an hour outside the city. Twenty miles due east of Waxahachie. The property’s about two hundred acres.”
Max punched the details into his phone, his mind already whirling with next steps. “Thanks, Ryan. I owe you for this.”
Reed followed him into the hall, his long strides barely keeping pace as Max barreled toward the driveway. “Slow down, Baldwin.”
Max spun at the words, his mind already picturing the op, a list of supplies he needed keeping pace with his tactical plans.
“You can’t go after her alone.”
“Like hell I can’t.”
Reed moved into his space. “This is police business.”
“And you can see how well the police have done so far.”
Max regretted the words the moment they were out, but he didn’t have time to argue with Reed. Tripp Lange had proven himself far outside the law, and the time and red tape to drag him back through it could cost Violet her life.
He’d be damned if he waited.
“I need to get to her.”
“I get it, but you can’t go in there blind. Tucker and I will go with you.”
“Nope.” Additional memories assaulted him—each and every op he’d run while in the military like a film loop in his mind. Even the missions that still tormented him with bitter regret had prepared him for what was to come. “It’s what I do.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“Like Violet Richardson would ever let me live it down if I dragged her friends’ fiancés into battle.”
* * *
Violet stretched her legs once more, the lingering pain in her limbs stinging like needles. She ignored the discomfort—she had mobility again—and kept up the steady pacing through the room. She’d already checked every corner, mentally cataloging what she’d found.
A toddler could have been left alone in the damn room for all the danger it posed.
Even the en suite bathroom was free of anything useful unless she could figure out a MacGyver-like weapon made solely from toilet paper.
Despite several days locked up in jail, Tripp Lange and his flunky had prepared well. She already suspected this room had been specially designed for the purpose of holding someone, and her deliberate search had only proven her correct.
Absolutely no piece of furniture, lamp cord or even bedding had been overlooked. And unless she was planning on making a noose for her captors out of a thick, well-stitched quilt, she was out of options.
The bigger question, to her mind, was what they expected. The rubies, yes, but Lange had to know she’d placed hers in a safe-deposit box. No bank was open on Sunday, yet he’d still gambled and taken her anyway.
Which then brought her back to a question: Where were they?
The hours she’d spent knocked out, courtesy of God knew what drug, had ensured she could be down the block from the hotel or clear in another country by now. Her bet was on something local because he’d want convenient access to the ruby, but still...
A sly, oily panic filled her stomach as a new thought struck.
Was she simply the first taken?
Lange had Lilah’s ruby, but that wouldn’t mean anything if he felt he could use her friend as a means to his goal. And Cassidy’s was hidden, with