Tram said in a low voice, apparently picking up on Tag’s surprise. “Asked him to step in and keep us updated. Delta isn’t any fonder of me than you.”
True enough. Tram’s unwavering support hadn’t come without cost. These bastards probably would have held onto any intel that made their teammate look bad.
“We got hold of Mitch.” Tram’s face and voice turned cold. Lethal. “Looks like he’s ass deep in some pretty heavy shit. He owes money. He says Sarah and her bridesmaid were taken to expedite payment.”
A moment of stunned silence rocked the chapel, and then—“Bullshit!”
The explosive denial came from Westfield. But the rest of Mitch’s buddies looked just as pissed and ready to rumble.
Tag ignored them, focusing exclusively on his lieutenant commander. “Mitch has no intention of paying the ransom.” He locked down the rage as the bastard’s taunting words rolled through his mind. “Hell, he’s probably in the wind by now.”
“That boy of yours is a fucking psycho, you know that?” His shoes ringing against the chapel floor, Tram stalked forward, raking the crew across from them with disgusted eyes. “While you sorry asses were defending him to everyone who’d listen, he was making Sarah’s life hell. The only reason he had any interest in her was to punish Taggart for that business with the operations fund a couple rotations back.”
Before Mitch’s buddies had a chance to launch a brawl, Devlin shut them down with one hard look over his shoulder.
“Stand down.” His voice was even harder than his face. The smart operator knew better than to mess with Devlin Russo. His anger burned cold and deep and deadly. He turned back to Tram. “Fill me in.”
As Tram recounted the conversation, Dev’s face grew icier and icier. “Did he say who this associate was or what they were into?”
“No.” Tag stepped into the conversation. “Sounds like the business associate is asking for a half a mil.” Which meant Mitch was into some seriously heavy-duty shit, and a hell of a lot more profitable than stealing from the operations fund.
Tag thrust a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. It burned like hell to pass on the following intel and possibly let Mitch off the hook, but Sarah’s life was more important than his need for retribution. “Hell, Mitch’s associate may not even be behind the girls’ disappearance. Mitch never said he’d actually talked to his guy. And we ran into a protective detail while checking out Sarah’s house. The team leader isn’t saying much, but he did drop the news that Langley”—at the arch to Devlin’s black eyebrows he clarified—“the bridesmaid. Apparently her father assigned a team of bodyguards because someone threatened her.”
Dev’s forehead furrowed. “So, there’s more than one threat at work? One to each woman?”
“Looks like it.” Tag locked his jaw and fought his impatience, his need to do something.
Even though there wasn’t much he could do until they figured out what the hell was going on. Swinging into action too soon would just muddy the situation and put the girls in more danger.
Devlin grunted and stood there for a moment, frowning, before he seemed to shake himself. “The gal who runs this place found their purses and cell phones in the bridal suite. It’s unlikely they’d both forget and leave them behind.”
Tag nodded. “Sarah’s car is still here, so they must have left with someone.”
“But not Mitch,” Russo added with a frown. He glanced at Tram. “You called Rio in?”
Trammel inclined his head. “Left him a message. Told him to meet us here.”
Dante Addario—known as Rio—was an honorary member of Echo Platoon, even though he’d retired from the teams to join the San Diego Police Department years ago.
Tag grimaced. Fuck—he was going to owe Rio another favor.
“We’ve already lost over an hour.” Devlin turned toward the Delta crew. “Canvass the neighborhood. Look for witnesses. Check with shops, cafes, banks—anyplace that might have video of the surrounding area.” He turned to Trammel. “Rio will bring his own people in, but we can start the canvass, get the legwork started.”
As Delta team headed off to carry out their orders, Devlin raised his voice, his attention shifting to the back of the chapel. “You boys the security detail Lieutenant Taggart mentioned?”
Tag turned in time to watch the dark-haired, hazel-eyed dude step forward. His gaze locked on Tag’s face as he passed—a glitter of irritation turning his eyes bright green…and pissed. He must have heard enough of the conversation to know that Tag wasn’t Sarah’s fiancé.