Chapter 3 #2
Decision made, I crouch low as I run to the house. My knee is still sore, but it shows no sign of wobbling. My body instinctively clicks into Special Forces operator mode, relying on muscle memory and drawing on my senses.
Once I get to the west wall of Paige’s house, I creep alongside it, below the window line. As I reach each one of them, I take a quick peek, then drop back down.
There’s nothing. No movement. No sound. No sign of life inside.
I check the ground as I move, looking for footprints. Again, nothing.
That is, until I reach the rear of the house.
And that’s when I see it. In the dirt below one window; a footprint far too large to be Paige’s.
Then I look at the window and realize the screen is missing.
It might not be remarkable, except all the other windows have screens—new ones, in fact.
And as I inspect the window frame, the light of the moon glints off some fresh scratches on the metal.
It looks like someone pried the screen off. Which means they could have entered the house here.
Dammit.
Well aware I’m about to commit a crime—well, assuming Paige wanted to press charges—I grab the window and carefully try to open it.
And shit. It slides up smoothly.
I knew she needed motion sensors on her windows. And if I hadn’t been such a coward, I would have brought up meeting Paige already. I might have come to visit, and I could have installed alarms on her windows for her.
But I didn’t. And wishing I’d done things differently doesn’t do anything for me right now.
All I can do is move forward. Hope I’m making the right choice this time. Hope—oh, I hope—that Paige is okay.
Once I have the window all the way open, I climb through it and slide it closed behind me.
I take a quick look around the darkened room I’m in.
A computer sits on a desk against one wall, several bookshelves another, and a third wall is covered with dozens of framed photos of dogs.
Her office, obviously. Which means the intruder came in through here, crept down the hall to Paige’s bedroom, and—
My molars nearly shatter before I can shut the horrific thought down.
I can’t find Paige hurt. Assaulted. Violated. Ah, shit, I can’t.
With each room I peer into, I say a silent prayer. And thankfully, there’s no sign of violence. No dark splotches on the floor. No scraps of fabric. Nothing.
Until I get to the kitchen and I spot a phone sitting on the counter, its screen cracked into spiderwebs of glass.
I’m about to reach for the phone when something else catches me.
Not something I see, but something I hear.
It’s faint. Barely a low rumble. But it’s something.
I hold my breath as I listen.
And then.
I hear it again. This time more clearly.
It’s a man. Somewhere below me.
A visual sweep of the room shows a door that might lead to a basement.
A basement where someone might be holding Paige hostage.
A basement without windows, so a responding police officer might never notice someone down there.
I pull my Sig from its holster and hold it at low ready. Then I creep on silent feet towards the maybe-basement door, mentally preparing myself for anything.
The door opens on oiled hinges—thankfully—and the moment it does, the man’s voice becomes clearer.
“Tell me,” he demands roughly, “how am I going to get my job back?” He stops. “Actually, fuck that job. I want a better one. One without that bitch in HR telling me it’s not professional to send so many flowers to a coworker.”
I’m halfway down the stairs when Paige’s shaky response comes. “I… What about a headhunter? I think—”
“A headhunter? Are you kidding me?”
There’s a rustling sound, followed by a soft yelp.
Paige!
My finger tightens on the trigger guard. My jaw sets.
I’ve never shot anyone outside of my duties as a soldier, but if it means protecting Paige, I’ll do it without hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” Paige rushes to reply. Her voice is thick. Wobbly. Like she’s trying hard not to cry. “Just… let me think…”
“Read the damn future, Paige!” The man’s voice rises. “Do your damn job. Unless you’ve been lying to me all along.”
Just before I hit the bottom of the stairs, I crane my head to look around them.
The instant I see Paige, rage surges through my body.
She’s tied to a chair, with her arms yanked behind her and her ankles tied to each leg. Even from fifteen feet away, I can see her shaking in fear.
Wearing only sleep shorts and a T-shirt, she looks achingly vulnerable. And I’m seized by a desire stronger than anything I’ve known to rush over there and pull her into my arms. To hug her and kiss her and reassure her over and over that she’s safe. That I won’t let anyone hurt her again.
But first, the asshole pacing in front of her, ranting and waving his gun like a complete amateur. Judging from his grip and the awkward way he’s holding it, I’m not sure he could hit me if I was directly in front of him.
Not that I’ll give him a chance to do that.
His back is to me, which means Paige sees me as soon as I enter the basement.
Her eyes flicker with surprise, quickly followed by recognition.
She could give me away without meaning to, and I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
But she doesn’t. She quickly schools her expression and focuses on the man in front of her. In a quivering voice, she asks him, “Could you tell me what kind of job you want? So I know the best way to help you?”
He huffs at her. “Don’t you know?”
With his attention on Paige, it’s time to make my move.
In this moment, I’m not civilian Cillian, owner of a small home security company. I’m Cillian McCann, Engineering Sergeant of ODA 5131, trained to disable a tango in under ten seconds.
I’ve never forgotten. It’s why I still work out every day, even though I don’t have to.
And right now, I’m damn glad of it.
On an exhale, I leap towards the man, crossing the distance between us in seconds.
I don’t need a gun for this. It’s all muscle memory from here.
Moving close to a blur, I deliver the punishing blows.
Arm chop to disarm him. Leg sweep to knock him to the floor.
Palm strike to his chest to knock the wind out of him.
A punch to his jaw because, shit, he deserves it.
And finally, I flip him over and yank his arms behind him, using the zip ties I never travel without to bind his wrists and ankles together.
Then I get right in his face and snarl, “Don’t you ever touch her again. Ever. Don’t even think about it.” My voice drops so only he can hear me as I add, “I can kill you. And I have friends who’ll help make sure your body is never found. That’s a promise.”
With him dealt with, I jump to my feet and rush over to Paige. As soon as I spot the raw, pink skin beneath the ropes binding her, a fresh surge of fury sweeps through me. But despite her pale skin and obvious fear, relief fills her eyes as she looks at me.
“Cillian?” she asks. Her chin wobbles a little. “Is it you?”
My heart twists. Squeezes. As I crouch beside her, I reply, “Yeah, Paige. It’s me.”
Her gaze meets mine. And now I know her eyes are bright blue, like a clear summer sky. A shy smile lifts her lips. “This isn’t how I pictured meeting you. But I’m so glad you’re here.”
Oh.
“Paige.” My voice goes thick. I stroke her hair, memorizing the softness of it. “I’m so glad I’m here, too.”