Wicked and Bound (Wicked Lovers: Soldiers For Hire #10)

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

January 8

Lafayette, Louisiana

N ash Scott’s hands shook as he gripped the steering wheel, scouring the road for any sign of an old seventies-style brown conversion van—one speeding Haisley Rowe away to God knew where. Same type of vehicle used in the other mall abductions. Same MO. Same circumstances.

His training screamed at him to think, not react, but his Haisley had been abducted moments ago. The image of her purse scattered across the mall floor, her phone still ringing, seared his brain.

And now she was gone, almost certainly abducted by the same ring of traffickers who had been kidnapping young women from Oakfield Mall for the past year so they could sell the victims to rich pricks who cared more about getting off than the lives of the innocents taken. Worse, this trafficking ring was well organized and had significant resources. They must, in order to stay undetected and under law enforcement’s radar for so long.

Straight up? He’d failed Haisley.

Two years ago, she’d walked out of his life—and ripped out his heart. Last night, he’d finally held her in his arms again after they’d both admitted they still had feelings for each other.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he’d whispered against her hair as she’d tumbled into slumber, her skin still flushed from their lovemaking. He’d drifted off, dreaming of sharing a future with her. This morning, he’d watched her sleep in his bed, her soft, womanly scent clinging to his sheets. Then he’d gone—unwittingly leaving her vulnerable and alone.

Every cell in his body screamed at him to save Haisley. Where had these merciless monsters taken her? She couldn’t slip through his fingers, not again. The universe couldn’t be that cruel.

He had to keep thinking. He had to find her. He had to bring her home safely.

Fuck, he should have stayed with Haisley this morning, should have hustled to the Oakfield Mall to support her while she held the presser about the shocking murder-suicide overnight of her bosses, George and Mila Benedict. And the moment she texted that she’d secured a meeting with that sketchy janitor—who had been working every day each of the previous victims disappeared—he should have raced to her side. Instead, he’d been analyzing the explosive intel his brother had extracted from the burner phone he and Haisley had swiped from George Benedict’s office last night.

His conversation earlier with Trees haunted him.

“The phone was loaded with encrypted files. Took me most of the night to crack them. There’s a website. Looks like a high-end rug import business, but it’s a front. The real business is human trafficking.”

“Rugs Direct Unlimited. We already know. We found references to it in Benedict’s office.”

“It gets worse. New ‘merchandise’ shows up on the site within hours of acquisition. They work fast, Nash. Really fast.”

And now Haisley was in their grasp. Nash’s gut twisted. His chest constricted.

Some fucking protector he’d turned out to be.

The early morning sun glinted off his windshield as he weaved through traffic, fighting the urge to ram vehicles out of his way while he frantically scanned the roads for the van. No sign of it, goddamn it.

Time was his enemy. Every second that crawled by was another second Haisley slipped further from his grasp.

Think. Focus. Act .

He punched the hands-free button on his steering wheel. “Call Ethan.”

The phone rang twice before Garrison, his roommate and fellow operative, answered. “I saw your team text. You’re sure? Haisley is gone?”

“Yeah. She’s been taken.” The words scalded his throat like acid. “Brown conversion van, likely headed toward I-49. No plate visible. About three minutes ahead of me.”

He heard Ethan scrambling, probably grabbing his gear and keys. “Details? Do you know anything else?”

Loads, but now wasn’t the time. He needed Ethan’s cool head and boots on the ground to help locate Haisley. “I was on my way to meet up with Hais and this elusive janitor, but by the time I got to the food court…” His jaw clenched against the wave of helpless rage. “I saw the van speeding away with her trapped inside.”

“Shit. You think her abduction is connected to Benedict’s death?”

“Has to be. The timing is too coincidental.” Nash swerved around a slow-moving SUV, ignoring the angry honk. “Especially based on what Trees found on Benedict’s burner phone. I think this criminal ring figured out that we were onto him, so they offed him. I don’t know if also killing the wife was meant to misdirect and make this look like a domestic situation, or whether these assholes were simply tying up loose ends.”

“You calling Hunter? The police?”

“Have to.” And their boss was going to rip him a new one for going behind management’s back, breaking into their client’s office, and taking that phone without authorization. But Hunter Edgington’s rage was nothing compared to the ice in Nash’s veins. “Ethan, one more thing? Get whatever the mall has in the way of surveillance tapes from this morning and go through them with a fine-tooth comb. Ask Kane to help you. We need all the help we can muster.”

“On it. We’ll find her, Nash.”

They fucking had to. He didn’t know what he’d do without Haisley.

He croaked out a “yeah” and ended the call. Then he took a deep breath before connecting to Hunter Edgington, the most senior of their bosses at EM Security Management.

Stay focused. Be logical. Don’t give in to panic…

Hunter answered on the first ring. “Talk to me, Scott. What the fuck is going on?”

“Like I texted, we have a situation.” Nash tried like hell to steady his voice. “Haisley Rowe has been abducted from the hall adjacent to the food court in Oakfield Mall, just like the other victims. Dragged out the back service entrance to an idling brown conversion van. I need satellite coverage of I-49 and access to every traffic cam feed around town until we verify which direction they’re heading.”

“Haisley, George Benedict’s social media director who went with you to swipe Benedict’s phone?” Hunter’s voice held an edge sharper than a blade. “The one you didn’t clear through me first?”

“Yeah.” Nash’s chest squeezed. Every second he spent explaining was another second Haisley slipped farther away.

“The one you’re fucking?”

“The one I’m in love with,” he snarled back.

“Damn it. I didn’t know.” Hunter sighed. “That’s rough. Some asshole once tried to kill Kata and… Thank god my wife is tough. I get how you feel, but you still went behind my back.”

“And I’ll accept whatever consequences you deem appropriate later. But right now?—”

“Pull over.”

“Goddamn it, no!”

“That’s an order, Scott. You’re too close. Pull over and wait for backup. I’ll send Garrison and Preston.”

“Fuck that. Fire me if you want. But I’m on the kidnapper’s tail. I’ve wired my shit tight. I’m good to go.”

“Nash—”

“Would you have stopped pursuing the captor who took Kata?” he challenged.

“You’re a hard-headed bastard. But you’re right. I wouldn’t. Before I make any calls, give me a full sitrep. What exactly did you and Trees find on that phone? And don’t leave out a single fucking detail.”

Nash accelerated through a yellow light, his jaw tight. “Six victims have disappeared from Oakfield Mall in the past year. It’s a professional operation. The women vanish completely. No bodies, no traces. Benedict’s phone seems to tie him to the operation, at least circumstantially. My brother found coded messages about ‘merchandise’ and ‘special orders.’ Financial transfers through a shell company connected to Rugs Direct—a website we discovered with veiled listings for the women they sell. The site goes dark the minute anyone investigates.”

“Jesus Christ. Why didn’t you brief me sooner?”

“Because we didn’t have much proof.” And because Edgington might have shut him down when the client became the suspect. “Benedict seemingly had a mistress. We don’t know if she’s involved. We need to question her. Last night’s sudden murder-suicide? It feels too neat. Too convenient. And that janitor at the mall… He’s neck deep in this bullshit. It’s also sus that the minute he finally agreed to let Haisley and me interview him, she’s taken.”

“Agreed. And Trees is sure of the connection between Benedict and Rugs Direct?”

“Time-stamped transfers correlate with every disappearance. Someone’s watching the mall, choosing targets, coordinating with inside help. This isn’t some amateur operation. They’ve got resources, technical expertise, and protection somewhere up the chain.”

“Benedict hired us to get to the bottom of the abductions at the mall. He might be dead now, and EM Security might lose their ass financially on this op, but I don’t think we can let this go.”

Nash breathed a sigh of relief. Hunter’s decision didn’t bring Haisley back, but it was damn good news that his bosses didn’t intend to be a roadblock. Didn’t intend to put their paycheck above lives. “Thank you.”

“It’s the right thing to do. I’ll call in every favor I’ve got, starting with the police chief.” Hunter’s voice hardened. “I’ll get eyes on traffic cams. We’ll put pressure on Benedict’s mistress. But, Scott? If you don’t catch up to that van in five minutes, pull back. You’re not going to find these bastards on the open road. They’re professionals capable of disappearing without a trace. And if you do find them, call for backup. They aren’t fucking around. They can make people disappear—or worse. And you’re no good to Haisley dead. Can you do that without losing your shit?”

Nash gritted his teeth. He hated it…but he understood Edgington’s point. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Keep me in the loop. And no more going behind my back, Scott. By the book. You got me?”

“Ten-four.”

The call ended. As a red light stopped Nash, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel with a curse. He gave himself five seconds to acknowledge his unadulterated terror for Haisley. Five seconds to acknowledge all the horrible things that could be happening to her even now. Five seconds to hate himself for not being faster, smarter, better.

Then he tamped it all down.

When the light finally turned, he darted off the limit line and headed for the freeway, but the brown van—and the love of his life—were nowhere to be seen.

Jerking the wheel with a curse, he turned his truck around, tires squealing against asphalt. Sifting through the evidence Trees had found, deciphering who might have taken Haisley and where, then getting there was his only shot of saving her now. He had to think like an operative, not a man who might have his heart ripped out.

Even if every mile that separated him from Haisley felt like it was shredding his soul.

“Since my sources tracking the van tell me it left town heading east and fucking disappeared, tell me you found something useful,” Hunter barked through the phone hours later as dusk began to settle over Lafayette.

“Nothing.” When Nash’s voice cracked, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Well, nothing solid. Yet. Ethan and I pulled surveillance footage from every business within three blocks of the mall. The brown van went north, then disappeared into a camera dead zone. Mall security was useless. Their external cameras have been ‘malfunctioning’ off and on for weeks.”

“Convenient.”

“Too convenient. It’s not just an inside job, but a coordinated criminal enterprise.” Nash ran a hand over his face, fighting to focus through his mounting terror. “That janitor had to be involved. He knew we were investigating, that Haisley had been tireless. So he and his higher-ups took her out of the equation. If I had any doubt about his complicity, he quit his job mere minutes after her abduction.”

“You sure?”

“Ethan sweet-talked the former mall manager’s assistant, Julia, into letting him read the resignation note he scribbled onto the back of a napkin before he walked out.”

Hunter groaned. “‘Sweet-talked?’ If Ethan seduced the information out of her, I don’t want details.”

Nash stayed conspicuously silent, his head too full of Haisley as he wended through the evening traffic.

“So that’s a yes. I don’t know whether to punch Garrison in the face or pat him on the back. His dick is going to get him into trouble someday, goddamn him. Anything more about the janitor?”

“Ethan interviewed the few mall employees he interacted with. No one remembers seeing the guy talk to anyone unusual. Apparently, he kept to himself. Did his job. Never caused trouble.”

“Perfect cover.”

“He blended into the background and never made noise. Then he suddenly quits and claims he’s moving out of state?” Suspicion laced Nash’s tone. “It smells like bullshit.”

“I’m surprised he’s not plotting to skip the country,” Hunter growled. “What’s this asshole’s name? I’ll contact my sources and call in some favors. We’ll find him.”

“Don’t bother. He used the name John Miller.”

“Generic as hell.”

“Because it’s fake.” Nash sped through a yellow light and turned into Haisley’s neighborhood. “And now he’s dead. Ethan and I found him in his apartment an hour ago. Garroted. Body was still warm. The place was a mess—half-packed suitcase on the bed, clothes scattered everywhere. We found multiple IDs and a wad of cash. He tried to run, but whoever’s running this operation got to him first. And before you ask, they swiped his phone and computer, so any potential tech trail is dead.”

“Son of a bitch…”

“It gets worse. We found a creepy hidden panel behind his bathroom mirror. Inside? Surveillance photos of all the previous victims. Time-stamped. Location-tagged. All women—young and attractive. With their whole lives ahead of them. But Haisley…” His voice roughened. “Her photo labeled her a ‘security risk’ with a handwritten note underneath: ‘Becoming problematic.’”

“She was getting too close to the truth, and she was enough like their typical victim profile to make her more valuable alive than dead.”

Nash’s gut twisted. “Ethan and I came to the same conclusion.”

“I’m sure they decided it was better to have an asset than a body. What about Benedict Land Development?”

“Place is locked down tight. Police say it’ll be days before we can access George and Mila’s offices. Employees and cleaning crew have been furloughed indefinitely. Even my security guard pal says they’ve been forbidden from that floor until further notice. But there’s more to George Benedict’s death than meets the eye. On his burner phone, Trees found hundreds of calls and texts with a woman named Caroline Walsh. She’s a local hairdresser. They exchanged explicit messages and nude photos. They had regular hookup appointments.”

“The mistress you mentioned earlier. Think the wife knew?”

“I would have said no until last night. But Mila was wandering the office in the middle of the night. Why…unless she and George had a serious fight?”

“Maybe, but we can’t jump to conclusions. Where is this mistress now?”

“In the wind. Yesterday, she cleaned out her bank account and quit her job. Her neighbor saw her carrying two big suitcases out her front door before she got into a taxi around seven last night. Seems like she was planning to split town. Her social media doesn’t indicate that she was planning a trip. But now she’s missing.” Nash’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “The messages on Benedict’s burner were filled with chatter about him leaving his wife so they could make a new life together, but no solid plans. No mention of running away.”

“So…you think Caroline killed Mila to get her out of the way?”

“It’s possible Caroline eliminated Mila, but when George realized what she’d done…” Nash let the implications hang as he swallowed hard, trying to keep focus when all he could think about was Haisley in the hands of these monsters.

Hunter grunted. “Either he couldn’t live with it and shot himself?—”

“Or Caroline shot his wife, George got cold feet and balked, so the mistress shot him and staged it like a suicide to cover her tracks.”

“Another possibility.”

Nash drummed his fingers on the wheel. “But none of that explains why Haisley was taken today, of all days.”

“You thinking that the trafficking ring might have used the situation to their advantage?”

“George was seemingly involved in this operation. Maybe he got cold feet about more than his mistress. If he threatened to talk…”

“Whoever runs this ring could have eliminated both him and his wife, then planned to pin it on the missing mistress.” Hunter’s voice hardened. “That cleans up a loose end and creates the perfect cover story all at once.”

“Exactly. That would also explain the timing of Haisley’s kidnapping. They’re cleaning house. The janitor. George. Mila. Anyone who could expose them.”

“And now Haisley.”

Hunter’s words hung between them like a death knell. “Fuck.”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Kane. Did that tip about the abandoned brown van by the lake net any clues?”

“Another dead end. He went out there, but he found out it’s just some kids’ shop project. Kane thinks someone’s deliberately feeding us false leads to waste our time.” Nash pulled onto Haisley’s street, his gut tightening.

“Damn it.”

“Trees thinks he might be able to access Benedict Land Development’s network through Haisley’s work laptop. I’m heading to her place now to grab it.”

“I hope you’re not too late. These bastards are covering their tracks fast, Scott. They kidnapped Haisley, got to the janitor, and maybe had a hand in George’s death, too. They’re eliminating anyone who might connect back to them.”

Nash killed the engine. “Yeah, but they fucked up. They should have killed me, too. They’re about to find out I’m not a forgiving man.”

Hunter was quiet for a moment. “I’ll keep working my contacts. I still have friends with FBI contacts. You try to get us access to Benedict’s office network. But, Scott? Watch your back. My gut is burning. This is bigger than we thought.”

He knew that, but he wasn’t worried about himself as he hung up. Every one of his worries was for Haisley.

Chest tightening, Nash pulled up to her darkened cottage to find peer and fellow-operative, Preston Kane, leaning against his truck, expression grim in the gathering dusk. He exited his own vehicle. “Thanks for meeting me.”

Kane nodded. “Been here a couple hours, making sure no one got clever ideas about ransacking the place.” He held up a key. “I got this from Charli for you. She’s beside herself, could barely talk through the tears, but she wanted to make sure you could get in and get whatever you need to save Haisley.”

“She going to be okay?”

“She’s convinced something terrible has happened. Which…” Kane’s jaw tightened. “She’s not wrong.”

Nash took the key, his hand trembling like the rest of his body. He had to steady himself against the doorframe. The porch light was off—of course it was. After spending last night in his arms, Haisley had raced home this morning to get ready for work, expecting to come home at the end of the day.

Just like every other victim who had disappeared from that mall.

The door swung open into shadowy darkness. Into silence usually filled with her voice, with her laughter. His knees nearly buckled. He couldn’t bring himself to flip on the lights, as if that would shine a glaring spotlight on the fact she wasn’t here. It would only make her absence more real.

Moonlight filtered through gauzy curtains, painting silvery paths across her hardwood floors. Everything sat untouched, waiting. Her morning coffee mug in the sink. A shopping list on her counter with mundane items like laundry detergent and bread.

Her scent—vanilla and something uniquely, heartbreakingly Haisley—squeezed his heart like a vise, threatening to stop it. He could barely fucking breathe.

“I’ll grab the laptop. You don’t have to do this,” Kane offered quietly from the doorway.

“No.” Nash’s voice came out raw. “I need to.”

For Haisley.

He forced himself to move through her space, cataloging details like the operative he’d been trained to be. The soft blanket draped over her reading chair. A novel, bookmark stuck halfway through. The throw pillows slightly askew on her couch. Everything looked paused, as if she’d just stepped out for a moment. Except she hadn’t.

She was gone.

A photo on her desk caught his eye—Haisley with her girl posse—Madison, Charli, and Gracelyn—at Madison’s wedding to fellow operative Matt Montgomery. Her head was thrown back in laughter. God, she looked so alive. So vibrant. Just like she’d been last night in his arms, her heart pressed against his as they’d made love in his bed. Now…

His knees nearly gave out again. He caught himself on Haisley’s desk, a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob tearing from his throat.

“Nash.” Kane’s hand landed on his shoulder. “We’re all doing everything we can to find her.”

“I’m so fucking afraid it’s already too late. I’ve been at this all day, and…” The words came out broken.

“You’re gathering evidence. You’re following the trail. We all are and?—”

“It’s not enough! Those other women… They just vanished. Like they never existed. And now Haisley… I can’t lose her again. Not like this,” he choked. Then, with a primal growl, he pounded his fist into a doorframe before shaking off the sting. “Fucking breaking down won’t bring her back.”

“Then channel that emotion,” Kane said. “Use it. We’re all behind you.”

Nash gathered the shattered pieces of himself and vowed he’d move heaven and earth—burn down the world if he had to—in order to bring her home. To do that, Haisley needed him to be the cold, calculating operative he’d been trained to be.

Sucking in a breath, he snatched up her laptop, but his gaze caught on a sticky note beside her keyboard. A reminder to add coffee creamer to her grocery list. Such a small, everyday thing. Would she ever do something that ordinary again? Ever have the freedom to?

“Let’s go.” Kane gestured him toward the door. “You’ve got a woman to save.”

With a resolute nod, Nash locked her door, the quiet finality of the click echoing like a death knell. But he couldn’t think that way. Couldn’t let himself imagine a world without her in it.

Because if he did, he’d lose whatever control he had left. And Haisley needed him focused. Needed him whole.

Even if he felt anything but.

As he made his way back to his truck, his phone buzzed. His heart slammed into his ribs as he yanked the device from his pocket. Was it possible someone had a lead? Had somehow located Haisley?

A message from Trees flashed across his screen.

I’ve got something you need to see ASAP.