CHAPTER 39
JAGGER
Iwoke up coughing.
Hard, violent coughs tore out of my chest, scraping my throat raw as my lungs seized against the choking darkness. Exhaust fumes flooded my mouth with every breath I dragged in, coating my tongue like oil. The air tasted of gasoline and burnt rubber, thick and foul as it filled my lungs.
My head pounded, a deep throb pulsing through my skull in time with my heartbeat. I tried to sit up and immediately slammed my forehead into rigid metal, the impact sending a burst of pain behind my eyes.
A trunk.
I was in a fucking trunk.
My arms were wrenched behind my back, zip ties cutting deep into my wrists until I could feel blood slicking my fingers.
Every movement pulled at the raw, burning line across the top of my shoulder where the bullet had clipped me, the wound throbbing sharply with my pulse.
My ankles were bound, too, forcing my legs together while my knees jammed painfully against the wheel well.
The space around me was suffocatingly small, my shoulders wedged tight, my spine curved awkwardly as every shallow inhale pushed my chest against the lid above me.
Another cough tore out of me and burned my lungs as I tried to figure out what was happening. I was pretty sure whatever vehicle I was in wasn’t moving because I couldn’t hear any road noise . . .
I tested the bindings, starting with my wrists.
The zip ties bit deeper when I twisted, the plastic grinding into my skin without the slightest give.
I tried to work a hand beneath the tie, but the edge only cut sharper, cinched tight enough that whoever had done it knew exactly what they were doing.
My ankles were worse. They’d been pulled together so tight my feet were already starting to go numb. I rocked my body, trying to roll onto my side, but the space was too small. Every time I shifted, my knees slammed into the lid above me.
Motherfucker.
Okay, Jagger. Calm down. Breathe. Let’s think this through.
I cataloged what I knew. Gage had been shot—badly. Cruz had also been shot but had been mostly okay when I got knocked out. Declan’s crew had overwhelmed us. They’d said they were going for Eden.
Eden.
The thought of her hit like a fresh bullet, and my pulse spiked. Zachary had gone to the penthouse. He was good, and I had at least six other guards that had been guarding the doors. It was also in a public building, but . . .
I shoved my panic down. Panic got people killed. I needed to get out and get to her . . . get to all of them.
My bound hands swept along the trunk floor, searching for anything. A release latch. A spare tire iron. Even a loose screw. Nothing. The carpet had been glued down tight. There were no tools or gaps.
I rocked again, harder this time, and shoulder screamed in protest, but the bindings didn’t budge.
Teeth clenched, I tried the wrist trick again, flexing my hands and working the zip tie toward the heel of my palm. My skin tore and blood slicked my fingers and . . . still nothing.
I was stuck.
Trapped like a fucking rat.
And every second I spent in here, Eden was—
The trunk lid suddenly flew open.
Bright light stabbed into my eyes. I squinted, my vision swimming as rough hands grabbed my shirt and hauled me up and out like I weighed nothing.
My bound legs dragged across the lip of the trunk, and I hit the ground hard on my knees.
Concrete bit into my skin, and I groaned as pain flared in my shoulder, my head . . . everywhere.
Blinking against the glare, I saw I was in another small warehouse, not one of ours, judging by how filthy it was.
Hanging bulbs swung overhead, and I jerked when I saw Cruz was tied to a metal chair maybe ten feet away, his arms bound behind him.
His head was slumped forward, and blood matted his hair, the whole front of his shirt, and one of his thighs. He wasn’t moving.
For a moment, my chest locked, and then I saw his chest rise. Barely . . . but it still counted. He was at least alive.
I could work with that.
The warehouse door creaked open, and several men walked in, their boots scraping against the concrete.
Declan wasn’t with them, and none of them looked familiar, which told me they weren’t any of O’Dalaigh’s inner circle.
If I wasn’t so angry, I would have been offended.
They’d left me with the fucking disposable muscle.
I lifted my head slowly, letting my mouth curve into something lazy and unimpressed. “Where’s Declan?” I asked. “I wouldn’t have thought the B-team would be sent to handle me. I figured the big dogs would want to do this part themselves.”
A few of them laughed, and one guy stepped forward, shaking his head like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke. “Oh, Declan’s busy,” he said. “He wanted to handle your girlfriend personally. But he said you could watch. Wasn’t that nice of him?”
It was all I could do to keep my face blank and not show them the full extent of the rage and terror I was feeling right now.
I watched as, from the corner of the warehouse, two men rolled out a television on a metal cart, setting it up as a sick presentation. The screen flickered once before lighting up.
And there she was.
Eden was tied to a chair in a room, and a circle of men surrounded her, watching her like wolves pacing around a wounded animal.
Her hair had fallen forward over one side of her face.
Her shoulders were pulled tight from the ropes binding her arms. Even through the grainy feed, I could see the fear she was trying so hard to hide.
I was starting to get dizzy as I stared at the screen.
The image kept flickering from a bad signal, but every frame burned itself into the back of my skull.
My stomach rolled, bile rising sharp and bitter.
I wanted to vomit. I wanted to die. Right there on the filthy warehouse floor, with my hands still bound and my blood still drying on my shirt, I wanted the world to end so I wouldn’t have to keep looking at what I’d let happen to her.
I had failed her.
Completely. Catastrophically. In every way that mattered.
All the power I’d built. All the men who answered to me. The empire Cruz and I had spent years expanding, brick by bloody brick—and none of it mattered. None of it had been enough to keep her safe.
“See?” a man said lightly beside me. “Declan figured you would like this. This is top-quality entertainment right here.”
Before I could do or say anything . . . the lights went out. Every bulb in the warehouse blinked off at once, plunging the room into thick darkness. The television died with them, the screen snapping to black.
“What the hell—”
The men shifted uneasily, their voices rising as they looked around. The only light left seeped weakly through two high windows near the ceiling, the glass so filthy it barely let anything through.
For a moment, the warehouse went completely still.
Then something smashed through one of the windows.
Glass shattered across the floor in a violent spray, and a small metal canister bounced against the concrete before rolling to a stop near the center of the room.
A second later, it began to hiss. White smoke exploded outward, spreading fast across the floor. Shouts erupted immediately.
“What the hell is that?” someone barked as the smoke began spreading across the floor.
“Shit—my eyes—”
Men started coughing, the sound turning harsh and ragged as the thick cloud swallowed the center of the warehouse. The smoke moved fast, rolling outward in a dense wave that climbed toward the windows and swallowed the weak light.
Boots scraped across the concrete as the men stumbled blindly through it. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
Another cough broke out, louder this time, followed by the crack of a gunshot.
Then another.
A body hit the floor with a heavy thud somewhere in the haze.
Someone shouted in pain. Another shot echoed through the warehouse. Another body dropped, the impact rattling across the concrete.
I couldn’t see a damn thing.
The smoke was so thick it blurred everything into shifting gray shapes. My eyes watered, and I tried to angle my body away from it, my hands straining uselessly against the zip ties behind my back.
Another gunshot cracked through the air.
There was more shouting . . . and then silence.
The smoke drifted slowly, thinning just enough for shapes to begin forming again through the haze. I watched as a tall figure stepped out of the smoke and walked toward me, a dark gaiter pulled over the lower half of his face.
Adrenaline surged through me, and I threw my weight sideways, hitting the floor hard as I tried to get leverage against the bindings.
The figure stopped in front of me, and then he reached up and pulled the gaiter down, and I stared in absolute fucking shock as Lawson’s face appeared through the haze.
“Surprise,” he said smugly.
I blinked at him, unable to form any words.
Lawson jerked his chin toward the chaos behind him where several bodies now lay crumpled on the warehouse floor.
“You know,” he added casually, “I bet next time you’re totally going to ask me to come when you hit someone with your car.”
He seemed to be waiting for an answer because he didn’t make any moves to untie me. “Yes, I fucking am,” I spit out . . . so we could get the rescue part actually going.
My gaze flicked to the dark screen of the TV, my dread only growing as I thought about what was happening. “You can gloat later, Lawson,” I ground out. “Declan has Eden. I have to get to her.”
Lawson’s expression sobered instantly. His eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees beside me, pulling a knife from his boot. The blade flashed once before he sliced through the zip ties binding my wrists.
Across the warehouse, Cruz groaned. Both of us turned toward him immediately. Cruz’s head shifted slightly against his chest, but he didn’t wake. Blood still soaked through the front of his shirt, dark and spreading.
Lawson finished cutting the ties at my wrists and moved to my ankles.
“How did you find us?” I asked, my voice rough as blood rushed painfully back into my hands.
Lawson snorted. “I got an alert when the attack went down. My security systems lit up like a Christmas tree.” He cut through the last binding around my ankles and tossed the plastic aside.
“The problem was, I couldn’t get enough firepower together to reach the warehouse in time.
Maddox only just got to where they’d dumped Gage and left him for dead.
This place is on the complete other side of town. ”
My jaw tightened. “How the hell did you find us, then?”
Lawson glanced up at me and winked.
“Cruz had implants put in us years ago,” he said easily. “Little trackers as an insurance policy.”
Once again my jaw dropped.
He stood, stepping back as feeling slowly started creeping back into my legs.
“I fucking knew it,” I muttered, thinking how once again, Cruz’s stalking was something I was going to have to address at a later date.
At this rate, he was going to be able to stalk me forever.
Although, judging by the events of today . . . maybe that was okay.
We both sobered immediately as I tried to push myself upright. The moment I stood, my legs gave out. My numb feet refused to cooperate, and I went down hard again, barely catching myself before my shoulder slammed into the concrete.
Lawson grimaced. “Yeah . . . circulation’s gonna take a minute.”
He crouched beside me again, lowering his voice slightly.
“Quick question while you’re recovering,” he said. “Did you happen to do any stalkery things to Eden so we can find her?”
For a split second, my mind flashed through every obsessive precaution I’d ever taken.
The implant under her skin.
The backup chip in her shoulder.
The trackers sewn into every piece of clothing she owned.
The capsule I’d slipped into her vitamins three days ago.
A slow smile spread across my face as I looked up at him.
“As a matter of fact,” I said, pushing myself back onto unsteady feet, “I did.”