Chapter 26
Dallas roared as he clutched Cole’s phone in his fist. “Fuck!” he screamed, turning to his brother. “They have her.” The declaration sucked the air from his lungs like a vacuum.
He leaned his free hand against the dumpster, balancing his weight on his haunches. The night spun around him, and fear threatened to pull him to the ground.
Cole took his phone from Dallas’s death grip then rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Look at me.”
Dallas forced his gaze to his brother’s.
“We’ll get her back. They won’t get far. But you need to get off your ass and walk to my car so we have a chance to follow them.”
Dallas gulped. “All right.” He pushed himself to his feet, but Cole hauled him back down.
“Shooters.”
He couldn’t even think straight. He’d probably been milliseconds away from getting his head blown off.
“Let’s do this without getting killed.” Cole’s smirk told him he needed to get his shit together quickly.
Holding his gun in his palm, ready to kill the first fucker he saw associated with Silas, Dallas ducked and followed Cole from behind the dumpster to the alleyway along the side of the club.
If the CIA was still after Silas, they might get to him first. The ramifications of that idea quickly replaced any relief. If the CIA found Silas, they could use another bomb and kill Gemma, or accidentally shoot her.
The CIA beating him to Silas would be a bad thing.
Cole stopped at the corner of the building and held up his hand to halt Dallas, but he moved to stand next to him.
Around the corner was the street, and Dallas’s eyes landed on Silas’s idling SUV. “There,” he said next to Cole’s ear. “That’s his vehicle.”
He bumped around Cole’s shoulder and aimed his gun. Cole’s hard grip on his bicep stopped him.
“The fuck you think you’re doing? We don’t even know if she’s in there.”
Dallas’s gut told him to smash the windows and see for himself. And he always listened to his gut. “I’m going to find out.”
He tore out of Cole’s hold and strode toward the vehicle, his shoes smacking on the pavement. The SUV rolled away from the curb as two guards spilled out of the front of the club. Dallas broke into a run and shot at the men. One bullet struck a man in the abdomen, the other missed the second guy.
Dallas didn’t stop running. The SUV merged onto the road and gunned through a red light.
No, they were getting away!
Shots fired from behind him. Dallas ducked as he ran down the street, chasing the SUV. Another bullet whizzed by his head and smacked into a truck window. Glass exploded into pellets.
“Shit.” He wheeled around, aimed, and fired at the shooter. The guy went down hard, the bullet ripping through his chest.
A horn blared from the street.
“Hurry up!” From behind the wheel, Cole yelled through the rolled-down passenger window. Dallas rushed to the rental car and jumped in.
“Go!” He smacked the dash, and Cole stomped on the gas. Dallas sat on the edge of the leather seat, his stare on the windshield. “I don’t see them.” His chest constricted.
“They turned up ahead. I’ve got it. Just be ready to take out their tires when we get close.”
Unspent energy drummed through Dallas’s body. He needed to get out, to sprint, to catch the SUV and wrap his hands around Silas’s neck before he combusted, but he couldn’t do any of that.
All he could do was ensure his heart didn’t give out. He didn’t let his mind go to all the stories he’d heard about Silas. The ways he killed people who crossed him.
There was no telling what he’d do in the minutes he had her alone. Probably a lot worse just to get back at him.
The streets were mostly quiet, only the odd car was on the road. Cole powered down the lane. He took a hard left at the lights, and Dallas gripped the door handle, letting out a curse.
The SUV wasn’t in view.
“Where are they?” Sweat coated Dallas’s upper lip as he shot daggers at Cole.
He wiped away the droplets with his wrist, his hand shaking. Christ. They were too late. Silas had gotten away and they were fucked. He was fucked.
Several beats passed. “I saw them turn down here,” Cole said, but his voice held a note of unease. Something no one but someone who’d shared a womb with him would have been able to pick up on.
“They’re gone.” He slammed the heel of his palm on the dash. “Fuck!”
Cole pulled over and turned in his seat. “It’s not over.”
“We’ll never find them.” Doom crushed down on him. He brought his fingers to the neckline of his shirt and tugged the material away from his throat. It did nothing to lessen the suffocating pressure on his windpipe.
Cole’s fingers bit into his shoulder. “Have I let you down yet?”
Dallas rocked his jaw back and forth. This wasn’t about Cole. It wasn’t about him. The fact of the matter was Gemma was in the hands of a twisted sonofabitch—and worse than that, the sonofabitch thought Gemma had tried to bomb him.
And Dallas had tried to kill Silas less than an hour before. He’d torture Gemma for that alone. He stared into his brother’s hard, insistent eyes.
Cole shook his shoulder. “Well?”
Dallas forced himself to swallow the words of doubt. “No.”
“Exactly. Now pull yourself the fuck together so I can think.”
Dallas leaned forward and massaged his temples. There had to be a way to trace them. Silas used an encrypted phone. That left zero options when it came to his device. Images of the night carouseled through his brain. He forced them to slow so he could analyze each event and discussion. “There could be something in his office at the club—something to tie him to another property or house. But dammit, we don’t have time.”
Cole shook his head. “Did he mention anything? Where he’s staying or where he’s holding the money for the deal?”
Dallas balled his hand into a fist. “Nah. We didn’t use cash. He sent a wire from his laptop once we finalized things.”
His brother smacked his arm. “He did that in front of you?”
He frowned. “Yeah, so?”
“So if we have a record of the wire, we—or Dare, if the fucker is awake—can track the IP address.”
“And we can trace that like a cell phone?”
“Hell yeah.” Cole pulled out his phone from the cupholder. Bluetooth kicked on over the speaker and the line rang and rang.
Dallas stared at the familiar number lighting the screen on the dash. If Dare didn’t answer he’d beat the shit out of him when he got home.
***
At least theyused tape this time. Gemma stared at the silver duct tape wrapped around her wrists. The same material covered her mouth, preventing her from biting through the restraint. Not that this would do her any good right now.
The SUV bumped around a corner and onto a roughly paved road. Saliva swarmed her mouth. She forced it down. Hyperventilating wouldn’t do her any good.
Her skull ached from where Silas had grabbed her hair and dragged her out of the closet, but that paled in comparison to the throbbing pain that pulsed on her cheekbone.
She sat ramrod straight on the SUV’s bench seat facing Silas. One of his men sat next to her, a gun pointed lazily at her side. Another man drove. She wasn’t a mathematician, but Silas had had a heck of a lot more men at the club. At least a few more. Had some been shot?
The CIA hadn’t succeeded in killing Silas, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t tried—nor would they quit. They were either recalibrating or there was a drone following overhead.
Probably a drone with a bomb, Gemma. ’Cause that’d be your luck.
Her purse sat next to Silas. Everything she needed to defend herself and escape, inches from his thigh. Except it was three against one. Getting away would be next to impossible.
Especially in a moving vehicle.
She inhaled through her nose. Searing heat on her face, like that of a laser beam, made her lift her focus to Silas.
She hadn’t had a good look at him until now. A bandage covered part of his face. It looked dirty. Even with the lack of consistent light in the car, she could make out the hard line of his mouth. His dark-brown eyebrows were pulled down over his eyes, and disgust twisted his features.
“These people you work for, have they told you what I do to people who fuck with me?”
Her throat cinched. With the tape on her mouth, she couldn’t reply.
He leaned forward and a spark lit his eyes, as if he enjoyed that he could say what he wanted without her rebuttal.
“The last man who tried to kill me got his tongue cut out.” He sat back, shrugging matter-of-factly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and metallic. “I thought I’d let him live. But filleting flesh is a lot more fun.” He flicked out a blade.
Each breath came through her nose long and wheezy. Showing fear would only make things worse, but sheer terror prevented her from controlling her body’s responses.
Silas grinned. “You’re a little too pretty to cut out your tongue. I could think of a lot of other things to do with it.”
The man next to her, Ash, burst out laughing.
Silas nudged him and he stopped. Silas kept his gaze tethered to hers. “I can’t promise I won’t do a little filleting, but I’ve got something better planned for you. Something that will make you wish I’d peel your skin from your face.”
All the blood drained from her cheeks, and her brain flickered. Her consciousness threatened to leave her body, to escape what Silas intended to do to her.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.
She wouldn’t die like this. Wouldn’t die screaming and begging for her life. She’d fight them until they killed her.
She swiveled her face toward the window. She wouldn’t give Silas the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. The area turned desolate. The streetlights were spaced out, and there were no buildings to offer illumination. Just overgrown brush, grass, and the odd speckling of houses.
If Dallas was alive, he’d find a way to come for her. But the odds of him being alive weren’t great. And if Cole hadn’t been killed in the shoot-out inside the club, he surely wouldn’t think to come looking for her.
She was on her own.
Even if they were both alive, how could they find her?
Ash shifted and pulled out his phone. “I can’t get a hold of Perry,” he said to Silas. “Have you heard from him?”
Her stomach bottomed out. Had they not found his body? She’d struck him when he was in the doorway, so he’d fallen into the hall. They had to have taken her out a different exit. Silas would be more pissed and cruel to her if he knew she killed one of his men.
Silas scrunched his lip. “No. But I need him. I lost three men tonight from those fucking shooters and”—he shot his gaze to her—“your stupid boyfriend.”
Gemma’s muscles tensed as she jerked her attention from the window. Did that mean Dallas lived? Hope inflated her chest and a tingling sensation fired through her limbs. It wasn’t over.
Dallas had been alive when they left the bar. After the shooting on the street. He had to be looking for her. Just had to.
The vehicle slowed and ice filled her veins. She snapped her head back toward the window, but it was too dark to see anything. The driver parked the SUV and pushed open his door. He came around and opened the side door for Silas, who slid out. The man seated next to Gemma grabbed her elbow and towed her out of the vehicle, her purse in his meaty fist.
She staggered on the gravel parking lot in her high heels, and if it weren’t for the brute holding her arm, she would have fallen on her face. Ash pulled her arm close to his belly, twisting her joint and making pain shoot into her shoulder.
She lifted her gaze to her surroundings. They stood on a narrow driveway. A small bungalow-style house was cut out of the greenery and shrubs around the property. A sensor light flicked on, and she shrunk her face away from the sharp, yellow glow.
The wooden front porch slanted away from the house, looking as if it wanted to run from what was inside. The wood siding was a dark green, and a matching garage sat at the end of the driveway.
“Get her set up,” Silas commanded. He held his arm across his abdomen. Something dark and shiny coated his fingers. Blood. He stalked past them and climbed the stairs of the porch.
Ash shoved her forward. “Move.” His cold instruction made the hairs on the back of her neck shoot up.
Rather than lead her to the small house, he pushed her forward down the driveway toward the garage. Her breath hissed in and out through her nose, but panic had also heated the tape at her mouth. The adhesive loosened around her lips. Not enough that she could get out a scream, but enough that she might be able to push it off with her tongue if she had a minute alone. Her teeth were her only weapon at this point. And the only way of getting through the duct tape around her wrists.
Ash moved her swiftly through the pool of light and into the darkness near the garage. Trees swayed in the warm night breeze, casting ominous shadows over the backyard that was more like a jungle. Tall grass surrounded the garage. Only the driveway and a two-foot-wide walkway were clear.
The grass moved, stirred by the wind, and if she didn’t have a torturous death staring at her, she’d be terrified of the creatures lurking in the foliage.
Ash pulled out a keychain. He turned to hold the keys near the light and cursed, unable to reach the glow. A minute and two key tries later, he kicked open the wooden door.
He forced her ahead of him, and she bumped her feet slowly over the threshold. Terror closed in around her as quickly as the dust swirling in the air. Her nostrils tickled, but she bit back a sneeze.
Ash hit the wall and a click sounded. A light came on overhead, illuminating the single-car garage.
Gemma stared at the scene before her. A chair sat in the middle of the floor with plastic around it.
“Sit.” He gave her a little shove.
Her legs wobbled, but she took a few steps forward and did as he’d instructed. She dropped her gaze to the plastic sheeting at her feet then swept her attention around the room. Boxes and other junk filled the space. Everything was covered in an inch-thick layer of dust.
Her tongue burned to ask questions. Not that she’d get any helpful answers, but Ash seemed to be slightly less vindictive than Perry.
She had to try something. “Mmm... mmm.”
He looked up from his phone and frowned. “What?”
She jerked her head. He exhaled an exasperated grunt and ripped the tape from her mouth. She gasped as hot, stale air rushed out.
You’ve got one shot at this, Gemma.
She wouldn’t beg. It’d be pointless. “He’s going to kill me.”
Ash lifted the tape, ready to seal her up again.
“Wait,” she said, turning her head away. “What you don’t know is who I work for. Killing me will bring a raid here, and everyone will either die or go to prison.”
He paused and worked his jaw back and forth, his beard moving with the motion. There was a star tattoo on his bald head, just over his ear, and a lightning bolt on the other side. “Who do you work for?”
She forced a mouthful of cold saliva down her throat. “The CIA.”
Ash let go of the tape and staggered back a foot. He turned in a circle, rubbing his hand over his head. “Holy shit. The boss isn’t going to like this.”
“Listen. You’re an accomplice. Killing me is bad enough, but killing a government employee is far worse.” She was stretching the truth a bit. She wasn’t an employee, merely an informant, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter.
He mumbled something under his breath in Spanish.
“Please, listen. I’m not asking you to let me go... just... My phone is in my purse. The last number I called is my boss.” Another lie. The last number was Cole’s, but he didn’t know that. “Send him a text with our location and they’ll come for me. This will all—”
Ash shook his head. “Hell nah.” He stalked forward and spread the tape back over her lips. “Do you have any idea what he’ll do to me? To my kids?”
She stared into his deep brown eyes.
He had resistance to Silas.
Knew he was in over his head.
But it was too late.
“Look, all I can do is give you some alcohol to stifle some of the pain.” He pulled a flask from his pants pocket. “It’s a shitty way to die. I’ve seen it more than once. But it’ll be over in a few minutes.”
She shook her head, confusion closing in around her.
He peeled off the tape again and held the flask to her mouth.
She turned away. “What do you mean? Tell me what he’s going to do.”
“Drink.”
“No.” Tears blurred her vision, these ones too thick and fiery to hold back.
“Lady,” breathed Ash. “He’s going to burn you alive. Drink the fucking liquor.”