Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“They weren’t happy with what I did to their friends back at the house.”
“What friends?”
“The one I took out on the back porch before beating the shit out of the one with you.”
“There was another man?”
“Yeah, babe.”
The fight replays in my head.
Talon materializing in the kitchen, jumping the man who had abducted me. His gun skittering across the floor.
The crashing sounds of wood splintering, glass shattering, the wall caving. Grunts and shouts, blood spattering, bones crunching.
Me standing there paralyzed with fear.
The man getting a split-second advantage out of Talon’s hold and retrieving the gun.
Placing it to my chest until Talon was forced to retreat.
“Do you know what’s happening?”
“Help me make a sling,” he hisses, and I clamber around to locate the scarf and follow his lead around his bad shoulder. His breathing picks up again when my hand brushes the skin of his arm to wrap the material and tie it off.
“Jesus, when I get back out there, I’m killing that asshole.”
I was so relieved to hear Talon’s voice earlier it didn’t register what the man had said.
Now it hits me with such force, I rock back.
“What did he mean by Mr. Whitman will be more cooperative?”
“It means they have Ford.”
“Oh my God!” My scream ricochets around the mostly empty room. “We have to get to him. Why are they doing this to us?”
“Revenge and retribution.”
“For what?”
“Seizing and shutting down their drug operations.”
The news snakes through me, leaving fear in its wake. “We’re being held captive by drug dealers?”
“Not likely. These are goons doing dirty work.”
“For who?”
“Wallace.”
“Kent Wallace? What the hell?”
“Wallace is their internal source for intelligence at the ATF.”
“He’s a nark?”
There’s a quick chuckle followed by a grunt. “Something like that. He’s been receiving hefty payouts every time a shipment made it to the intended buyer. When his department got word of any suspicious activity, Wallace would pass along the information so the shipments were rerouted.”
This information swirls around in my head, slowly clicking into place. “You guys don’t work with the ATF directly, so it has left him out of the loop.”
“He’s feeling the heat from losing millions in shipments.”
“But how does he know it’s you guys?”
“The fucker is smart. He pinned us on television that first bust. Looked into us with Metro, thinking we were task force. Trail led him to Tera. Took him a while to realize she’s a dead end.”
“He told you that?”
“I may have taken a beating, but I’m still a skilled interrogator. It’s a talent to keep people talking.”
“What does he want, Talon? Why did they come after me?”
“To get to Ford. They weren’t counting on me intercepting them at the house. When the seizures started around the state, Wallace and his contacts got antsy. He still doesn’t know who we work for.”
“That’s why he beat you senseless? To get you to give up Hayes Security?”
“He wants all our contacts.”
He coughs, a deep chest-heaving cough that sends sprinkles of liquid on my neck.
More blood.
“Talon, you’re coughing up blood.”
“He got my lung.”
Panic claws at my insides.
Dislocated shoulder, broken arm, punctured lung, no telling what other damage… Talon’s seriously hurt.
“We’ll talk more later. You need to rest.”
His hand curves around mine, holding tight. “Not rest, refuel. Anyone comes in here to hurt you, they’ll answer to me.”
“Talon—”
“The guys will be here soon. Until then, you stick close and trust me.”
I hold his hand like a lifeline, absorbing the little comfort it gives me.
Don’t panic… Think…
Does Ford know we’re here? Is he being beaten and tortured?
Does anyone know we’re missing?
Talon said the guys will be here soon. What guys?
He was scheduled to work all night… Surely, Robbie will get curious.
His breathing evens and I count his breaths to keep distracted.
No telling how long we stay like this; the minutes bleed together as I try to keep my anxiety at bay.
The heavy footsteps return, the lock clicks, and this time the room floods with bright florescent light. It takes a few blinks to focus.
Kent Wallace’s evil grin makes my skin crawl. “Your boyfriend needs some motivation.”
“Talon requires medical attention.”
“Indeed, he does. Maybe he and Whitman can share a room.”
My stomach and chest seize and I fight back my cry.
“You can come willingly or forcefully. Your choice.”
It’s an impossible choice. I don’t want to leave Talon, but Ford is somewhere needing me.
“Go, Hollywood. I’m good,” Talon croaks.
“There is a reason no one has touched you, Rowan. Don’t make a liar out of me.”
“Take me to Ford.” I kiss Talon’s hand before releasing it.
Kent grins again, this time with arrogant victory.
I memorize everything on our way. The number of steps, color of the walls, the rooms we pass. Everything that will help get us back to Talon.
Nothing could prepare me for what happens next.
A blood-curdling, ear-piercing scream singes my throat at the sight of Ford. He’s hanging from a beam, his neck drooping forward, blood falling in a steady steam to the floor. They stripped his shirt—welts, bruises, and gashes cover his abdomen. The beautiful tattoo slashed in the middle.