Robbie's POV
The moment I got off the phone with Tony, Jane came rushing toward me. The full weight of what I'd just learned hadn't hit me yet, but bile was already rising in my throat. I was seconds away from losing it when Jane's interruption spared me from spiraling.
"Mr. Walker, Mr. Mandes is very concerned as you le—" she began.
"Book me the earliest ticket to Warham. Now." I turned and strode toward the restaurant exit without waiting for her response.
Jane's jaw dropped. She scrambled after me, stammering, "Mr. Walker… you haven't even— Mr. Walker, what about the… Please, sir—"
"Jane." I spun around. "Do what I said. Wrap up the meeting and tell them I had urgent business. I'm leaving."
The valet had just brought my car around. I barely registered him as I took the keys.
"Sir, Mr. Mandes insisted the deal only be handled by you," Jane added, now visibly distressed.
I couldn't care less. My head was pounding. I never should've left Warham. I'd had a gut feeling something would go wrong, and now it had. I only prayed to hell that my father wasn't behind this. He lived by the law. Abduction wasn't his style. Or so I thought.
As I opened the door, I finally noticed the blood streaming down my hand. Jane gasped the second she saw it.
"Oh my God! Mr. Walker, you're bleeding badly. Let me call a medic—"
I waved her off. It was the wine glass I'd shattered after reading Tony's text. I hadn't even felt it.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I grabbed Jane's wrist with my good hand.
"I'm leaving in thirty. Have the ticket ready. Handle the rest. Goodbye."
I shut the door on her shocked face and peeled out of the lot.
***
The airport was only an hour away. My flight was in forty-five minutes. I'd already checked in and now sat in the waiting lounge, trying not to go insane. Time crawled. I picked up a copy of Business Times, skimming just to keep my thoughts from spiraling.
My hand throbbed from the shoddy wrap job I'd done in the car. Every turn of the page was a struggle.
My phone buzzed. A string of texts from Tony: one of a silver car, one of a blonde woman. Then three more: her name, her profession, some basic details. Apparently, she was a teacher. For some reason, her face looked familiar.
The last message: he was heading to the woman's place with cops. Sam was checking locations the car passed through, and Fred was digging into it separately.
I immediately forwarded everything to my private team, ex-military, high-level clearance, experts in uncovering anything, anywhere. I told them to find out everything about the car and the woman. It wasn't enough. I was still stuck in this goddamn airport while everything was falling apart.
I stood up and started pacing. People stared. I didn't care. Sitting made me feel caged.
Thirty minutes to go. Time might as well be frozen.
Then my phone rang. I answered without checking the caller ID.
"Tony? Did you—"
"I'm not Tony, old man," came Fred's cutting voice.
My annoyance flared. "What do you want?"
"That's what I should be asking," he replied grimly.
His voice dropped, edged with steel. "The car made three stops. One of them was at your house."
I froze. "What? How do you know that? Why haven't the cops picked up on it?"
"My cousin's a hacker. She got into the police traffic servers and tracked the car. I didn't tell the cops. She's a minor, I'm not risking her record."
There was a beat before Fred's voice turned venomous.
"This wasn't your play, was it?"
"It wasn't," I said quietly. "But I know whose it was."
I felt like throwing up.
Fred sighed. "Robbie... If your family's involved, I'm out of moves. We don't have the power to fight people like the Walkers. I haven't told Tony yet. But I won't be able to hide it for long."
I clenched my fist, which was a bad idea. The wound reopened.
What the hell did you do, Dad?
"Thanks," I said coldly. "I'll get to the bottom of it."
"You better," Fred snapped before hanging up.
The second the call ended, I slammed my phone down on the seat beside me. Anger, guilt, panic— every emotion hit at once. My son, my family… this was the cost?
I picked the phone back up with shaking hands and dialed my mother's number.
She answered on the fifth ring, cheerful at first. "Honey, I'm so sorry, I'm in the middle of—"
"Mum," I cut her off. My voice cracked. "Twen's been kidnapped."
A loud thud on the other end, then a panicked cry. "Robbie?! What are you saying?! How?!"
"Mum," I said again, trying to stay calm, "I need a favor."
"Anything," she said immediately. "Ask me two."
"I need you to go home. Watch Dad. Don't let him out of your sight."
There was silence, followed by a whisper. "You think… your father's involved?"
I swallowed. "I'm sorry, Mum. Thank you."
I hung up. I couldn't bear to hear her cry.