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“That makes whoever took them a hostile target. No signal on the tracker in her cell?”

  I hear Neil mutter a curse and the sound of tires.

  “No. Whoever took them is using some kind of jammer to kill it. And my guess is the phone’s been dismantled and tossed at this stage. The only way we’ll find them now is if we have a lead to follow,” He admits, and I hear the futility in his voice. “Who would want to take them? Exes? Enemies? This could be about Liv…”

  I wince and tell him to hold on, right before my office door flies open and ricochets against the wall to admit a furious Gabe.“Someone, anyone, whoever fucking dared take them will die. Slowly, for every hour my woman is forced to feel a scrap of fear.”

  I think he means to growl it, because yes, I feel the same and want to growl myself, but the words come out in a deadly voice, barked so loudly I hear Neil curse again through the forgotten phone line.

  “Agreed, but we need to keep calm and figure this out first. The cab they disappeared in was just found in a neighborhood I wouldn’t send a Rottweiler into alone. And their phones aren’t traceable either. We’re flying blind here,” I admit, feeling every ounce of his frustration as he scrubs at the back of his neck and start stalking around.

  “I don’t understand any of this.”

  Me either, pal. For the briefest second I’d considered pegging Carson for this, but I just can’t see it. The guy’s too involved with trying to save his image after the press got hold of the news about the divorce. Besides, he’s so busy trying to see Helena on the sly, he doesn’t have time for much else.

  “Boss?” I hear from a distance and realize I’ve been daydreaming, completely forgetting Neil.

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know how to say this without freaking you out even more, but Ericson just finished sweeping the cab and there is quite a bit of blood in there.”

  “Jesus Christ! Just…” I flounder for a minute as nightmarish pictures of Remy and Liv hurt, bleeding and needing help almost buckles my knees and sends me to my ass.

  I sway in place and lock my knees, breathing through my nose to keep from hyperventilating.

  “I’ll call you back.”

  Disconnecting the call, I immediately dial a number that I only use in very extreme circumstances. Brick is a personal friend, ex-military and one of the meanest sonsabitches I’ve ever encountered. I say I only dial this number under duress because it’s not the usual number that I dial to set up basketball and hockey games or to hang out.

  This line is the one he gave me for emergencies if one should ever arise, and I know the minute he answers and I tell him what’s going on, I’m going to be unleashing a fucking hurricane on the unsuspecting citizens of the greater D.C. area.

  “Tell me who needs killing,” he growls after the first ring, and I smile the same shark smile I reserve for enemies at the thought of this man locking sights on whoever had the balls to touch what’s mine.

  “My girlfriend and Gabe’s lady got into a cab this morning and disappeared. The cab was found downtown with evidence of a struggle and what Neil says is a startling amount of blood. That’s all we have so far and it’s been hours. Cell phones are out so I can’t even track that.”

  I hear a swift tapping of keys and what sounds like another phone line before he answers.

  “Give me ten minutes to get my guys up to speed.”

  I wait as patiently as I can, watching Gabe pace the floor like a caged beast before my phone beeps and I answer in a rush.

  “Dec pulled the city’s surveillance. The women entered the cab and the cameras tracked it east. One camera even caught Remy beating at the windows before the fucker took a hard right and disappeared. We got a hit on facial though. Dec’s running it right now. Hold on a minute. Yeah. No, Dec. Good. Look, this guy who took your girls is a real lowlife piece of shit man.”

  Yeah I figured, but hearing it from a hardass like Brick just makes my blood turn colder.

  “Find them, Brick.”

  “I sent the guys out to take a look. Hensley will track that motherfucker down before you know it. Anything special you want from this situation, Chief?”

  I get his meaning immediately and take another look at Gabe, feeling my mouth curl in such a vicious smile my best friend stops and looks over at me before his own mouth mirrors my own.

  “Hold him.”

  Chapter 14

  Remy

  Sounds filter into my conscious, luring me from the void that’s even now trying to pull me back under and keep me trapped. The first thing I feel when my body sluggishly screams back to life is the sticky residue of sweat despite the bone chilling cold at my back.

  It takes a while of real effort and blinking, but I finally manage to open my eyes to slits and see my surroundings. Nothing. The concrete chewing into my aching back is part of a tiny room with dirty white walls and nothing else but a battered steel door.

  No windows. No furniture. Nada.

  It’s so cold in here that my sweat immediately cools, making my teeth chatter as I shiver and roll to my knees and forearms with a groan, my body screaming in protest.

  I don’t know why I was sweating before this, maybe it was whatever that asshole had injected when he’d wrenched the cab door open and shoved a needle into my neck before I could kick him in the nuts.

  My only source of pleasure comes from the blurry memory of Liv launching herself at him, nails clawed, teeth bared as she sank the talons into his face and went to work on shredding his skin.

  He’d reared back, his cheeks a bloody mess of deep grooves before backhanding her so hard she’d fallen on me and gone limp. I’d just barely registered the metallic tang of the blood that sprayed from her nose and cut lip before the drugs took effect and knocked me out.

  “Liv.”

  My body reacts like a live wire and I’m up and on my feet in an instant, swaying dangerously before catching myself on the wall. The room is small enough that I can touch opposite sides at the same time if I stretch out my arms.

  I’m alone though, and that only worsens the choking fear that’s gripping me now that I’m not comatose with drugs.

  “Liv!”

  It’s so stupid to scream and let that ass know that I’m awake and ready for whatever he has in store for me next, but right now I wish he’d come in here so I can at least try to kick his ass.

  “Liv! Liv!” I yell, banging at the door with what little strength I have.

  My movements are still sluggish and uncoordinated, but I attack that door like a kickboxing champ on fight night trying to get some attention. What’s the worst that can actually happen at this point anyway?

  I’m trapped in a fucking box, a dirty one from the rat droppings I see. I’m totally defenseless. If this guy—whoever he is—is intent on killing me, then there’s not a freaking thing I can do about it but try to put up a good fight.

  I will not, however, cower in the corner and wait for him to make his next move. I’ve got some self-defense training. The city sent a bunch of us to classes last year when a social worker was attacked by an angry father.

  I am in no way a match for the bastard, but if I can at least get in one good ball breaker, I can try to take control of this situation.

  “Hey asshole! Open the door you stupid prick!”

  I keep banging and yelling obscenities, words that would make my mom’s perfectly straightened hair curl into corkscrews. I make such a racket that I finally run out of steam and collapse against the wall, my arms burning, chest heaving with the strain.

  It could be the residual drugs till in my system, or the fact that I am crashing from my adrenalin high, either way I slump to my left and hit the floor on my side, feeling my body weigh down and sink into numbness like concrete in water.

  I can’t even muster myself when I hear something scrape outside the door or when it slowly swings open, revealing not one, but two hulking men.

  One has a terrified Liv clamped to his chest, one arm pinned aga
inst her throat as he levels a gun at her head. The other smiles darkly at me and waves his own gun my way, his message clear.

  “Get up, bitch.”

  I whimper, not even able to work up the energy to tremble when my muscles refuse to cooperate. I feel everything going on in my body, but it just will not respond.

  And I start really panicking then.

  The guy snarls something and stomps forward, pulling me up by the hair and one arm. Pain ricochets through my scalp and I cry out, my voice coming out in a creaking moan that has Liv’s eyes bugging with rage.

  “What the fuck did you give her, asshole!”

  My entire body is so hot right now. I feel like my skin is swelling and on the verge of busting open. The feeling is so foreign, coupled with my inability to move, that for a split second I try to convince myself that this is a nightmare. That this feeling is one and the same as those running dreams you have. Those dreams where you’re running from something and everything is in super slo-mo, and no matter how hard you try to speed up or even scream, nothing happens.

  It’s the same, yet so intense that I know that it is in fact real.

  And that whatever gave me that burst of energy before knocking me on my ass is not good. Not good at all. In fact, as the hairy behemoth half drags me behind him like a rag doll, I feel everything inside me start to slow down. My breathing pattern goes unnaturally slow along with my heart rate and I feel my vision dim and blur a bit, despite knowing that my eyes are open.

  “Oh God! Remy?” I hear Liv struggling somewhere behind me but the sound comes at me as though we’re going through a tunnel, all wah wah wah and distorted. “What’s wrong with her? Remy! Oh God, she sounds weird. Please, she needs to get to the hospital!”

  More struggles sound behind me before I hear a hard thud and what sounds like a hand slapping skin. Liv grunts and then cries out, and I will myself to respond, anything to help her.

  Nothing.

  My eyes are bleary but I make out a large warehouse-type room when we stop, and then he drops me into a chair and quickly starts winding rope around my body, pinning me up when I almost slump and topple to the floor.

  Liv is dumped into a chair beside me and I note her lack of struggle when the process is repeated and the men stand back, grinning down at us.

  “Why?” the word is nothing more than a breath as I flop my head back to see them both.

  “You need to tell your boyfriend to stop taking what isn’t his, Miss Harrow. A lot of people aren’t too impressed with his coming into our city and fixing what ain’t broke. You got me, sugar?”

  I can’t nod but blink my eyes instead, feeling a little hopeful for Liv at least. If he wants me to carry a message, then we’ll be allowed to live and walk out of here. Won’t we? Well not me, I think, taking stock of the gradually slowing rhythm of my heart and the still raging heat that bubbles beneath my skin.

  I can’t say for sure I’m going to be okay, but if Liv can make it out, I’ll die with a smile.

  “Unfortunately, I have to send a message.”

  The second one nods and smiles before ambling my way, his hand coming out from behind his back with some sort of pipe. I scream when he brings it down on my right leg in three, four, five successive strikes that are delivered with so much force I feel the exact moment that my bone gives up the ghost.

  I’d scream if I could, wincing when Liv more than makes up for my lack of voice, her curses and empty threats filing the air around us.

  They die a sudden death, drowned out by a shriek when he brings the pipe down on her right arm with such force I see her whole body jerk and stiffen before she cries out.

  “That’s for his right hand man. If you two bitches can get out of those ropes, you live. If not, well the rats in this neighborhood need to eat too.”

  They turn as one and walk away, leaving us trapped and hurting. I’m probably not making it out of here. And then the lights go out and we’re plunged into inky darkness.

  Liv doesn’t whimper again and I’m done. My eyes slide shut and I welcome the numbness.

  Chapter 15

  Chase

  I’ve never been this terrified in my entire life, and I’ve been in a plane that lost an engine and hit turbulence at the same time. I’ve gone into war-torn countries and dodged bullets to get to meetings while rebel forces unleashed hell around us.

  I’m by no means a squeamish man, but when I got the call from Brick that Hensley had tracked the women and that they were both being airlifted to the hospital, I’d almost lost my lunch.

  He didn’t even finish the sentence before Gabe and I were in the car and he’s hitting the gas so fast the car fishtails before gripping and leaping forward. We made it to the hospital in a record-breaking nine minutes and thirty-one seconds, and then I leapt out of the car yelling Remy’s name.

  Silly, but I’m frantic now that I know where she is, not knowing what the hell that bastard did to her. The nurses jump and start, glaring at me, but I really don’t give a bloody damn at this point. I need to know, need to—

  “They took her up to surgery.”

  Whirling fast I feel Brick grip my shoulder to keep me upright as Gabe barrels into my back.

  “Surgery?”

  Brick nods once and looks around, and then nods to three other men leaning against one of the walls. They follow him with nothing more than a flick of his head and I hear Gabe trudging behind us. Brick keeps hold of my arm and pulls me into an elevator.

  We remain silent the whole way up because as soon as I open my mouth, Brick stops me with a quick shake of his head and a glance at the camera.

  Somehow, I manage to wait till we reach a long, deserted corridor and a door being guarded by one of the biggest human beings I have ever seen. The man is literally about six nine and looks like he eats other people. He has huge arms that can hardly meet as he folds them against his chest and a set of legs that suggests he bench presses trucks. For fun.

  “This is Fig, short for Figueroa. He’s on Liv right now. Calm down Gabe, your girl’s okay, just knocked out. They had to set a break in her right arm.” Brick warns, planting a palm in Gabe’s chest to stop him from barreling into the room. “Listen up, my man, that woman was in some serious pain when we found her. Her arm was broken, but she still managed to squeeze her way free of the ropes she was tied with and try to drag Remy out of that warehouse.”

  Gabe pales and I see him swallow a few times before nodding and stepping back to lean against the opposite wall.

  “Tell us.”

  I see the other men settle in against their own spots before Brick sighs and starts talking.

  “When we got there, we found Liv dragging Remy out of the warehouse. The poor woman was in some serious pain but she’s got heart, I’ll tell ya that. They were alone and Liv immediately told us the whole story when she found out who we were. Remy was drugged, punched, and knocked out. They were both kept in separate rooms till one of the men—yeah, there were two when Liv woke up—decided it was time to get cracking. Remy apparently was making one hell of a ruckus before whatever they injected her with started shutting down her nervous system.”

  That makes my heart stop, and I think Brick can see how totally unhinged I’m about to become because the guy grabs the back of my neck and squeezes soothingly.

  “They had to drag her out of there to get her to the warehouse where they tied both women up and took a steel pipe to them. To Remy’s right leg and to Liv’s right arm.”

  Something in his tone catches my attention and I see his eyes dart to Gabe before one of his guys take position beside him to intercept if necessary.

  “Look guys, I’m gonna be dead honest here. The fact that both girls were taken—not just one—tells me that this was a message. Also, Liv said they broke her arm, and I quote, ‘for his right hand man.’ Whoever hired those goons is sending a message. Not just to you, but to Gabe as well. You pissed off someone powerful.”

  My mind starts whirling and I
barely register that Gabe has gone nuts and would no doubt start trashing the place if not for the hulking brute keeping him pinned to a wall; his voice is a rough, soothing growl that eventually gets Gabe to calm down and sink to the floor with a groan.

  “I have a lot of enemies, Brick.”

  “No shit, man. Dec’s already checking you out to start weeding leads.”

  I’m not worried about finding those responsible, not with Brick and his team on it. No, as one of the nation’s most deadly black-ops teams, and by that I mean the blackest of the black, the motherfuckers who most don’t even know exist—at least not on paper or until they show themselves, which usually only happens when you’re as good as dead. I know I can entrust this to one of my oldest friends and it'll get done. What worries me is the fact that Remy was so badly off.

  “What did they give her?”

  Brick grimaces and casts a look at one of his men, a blond named Hensley who has the deadest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “They gave her…a very strong anesthetic to knock her out, and then injected her with a high-grade heroine, meth mix. You’re lucky she’s still alive, man. She should have stroked out from the dose alone. The doctors say they can only presume that the two drugs had a small neutralizing effect on each other, so it hindered respiratory failure.”

  “She could have died?”