I Was Seconds From Walking Out on My Blind Date Until She Rushed In With a Little Girl Who Signed Something That Changed My Life

Elise dropped the phone as if the device had suddenly caught fire. It bounced against the wooden tabletop with a loud clatter before sliding into my hands.

I grabbed the phone, pressed it to my ear, and kept my voice completely neutral. "Who is this?"

A beat of heavy silence sat on the line. The man on the other end chuckled softly—a dry, mechanical sound devoid of humor. "Well, now. That’s not Jenna’s sister. Put Elise back on, friend. We have a brief business matter to settle regarding her family's sudden lack of cooperation."

"Listen to me very carefully," I said, my voice dropping into a razor-thin threat. "If you are inside that house, you step out onto the porch right now with your hands where the police can see them. The line to 911 is already connected on another device."

It was a bluff, but a necessary one.

"Nice try," the man replied calmly. "You have five minutes to bring the girl to the parking lot behind the art studio on 8th Avenue. If we see a single police cruiser, Jenna stops breathing. Do you understand me?"

The line went dead with a sharp click.

I lowered the phone and immediately locked the screen. Across the table, Elise looked as though she were about to faint. Her skin was waxy, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Chloe sat beside her, perfectly still, her small hands clutching the yellow fabric of her raincoat as her eyes darted between the two of us. She couldn't hear the voice, but she felt the violent shift in the air.

"Damian..." Elise’s voice was barely audible over the jazz music continuing to play from the restaurant ceiling. "What did he say? Is Jenna... is my sister hurt?"

"We aren't going to panic," I said, putting my phone back in my pocket and standing up immediately. I threw a hundred-dollar bill onto the table to cover the untouched water glasses and the reservation. "We are leaving right now. Out the back entrance."

"The back?" Elise asked, pushing herself up from the booth on weak legs. "Why the back?"

"Because if they knew Jenna’s phone was calling you, there’s a chance they tracked her GPS before her phone was taken," I said smoothly, taking Chloe’s tiny hand in mine. Chloe looked up at me, her little fingers wrapping around my thumb with incredible strength. "We don't take any chances."

We moved quickly through the kitchen corridors of the restaurant, bypassing the main valet stand at the front. The line cooks glanced at us in surprise as I led Elise and Chloe past the prep stations and out through the heavy metal service door into the damp night air of the rear alleyway.

The cool rainy night hit us instantly. A light drizzle was falling over Nashville, slicking the pavement and reflecting the neon red signs of nearby bars.

My car—a dark charcoal SUV—was parked two blocks away in a secured private garage.

"Damian, we have to call the police," Elise said, her voice cracking as she walked briskly beside me, holding Chloe’s other hand. "We can't just run! What if they hurt her?!"

"If we call the police right now without knowing who these people are or what they want, they might panic and do something irreversible," I explained, scanning the alley entrances as we moved briskly under the streetlights. "I have a friend who specializes in private security and asset recovery—a former detective. We go to my office first. It’s secure, it has landlines, and we can figure out what Jenna was involved in before making a move."

As we turned the corner toward the garage entrance, a sleek, black sedan parked across the street slowly flicked its headlights on.

The bright halogen beams cut straight through the rain, locking onto the three of us.