Chapter 23
M ila stirred, blinking in the darkness. Ghost’s soft snores reached her ears, and his warm body was snuggled against hers. The need to pee nudged her further from the sleep that wanted to pull her back into its clutches.
Ghost didn’t rouse as she slid off the bed. Her body ached in all the right places, reminding her of his affection. The man was insatiable. If she accidentally woke him up, she’d never get back to sleep.
After finishing in the bathroom, she headed toward the kitchen for a glass of water. She yawned as she sauntered through the house. In the kitchen, she flicked on the undermount light. She reached for a glass and went to the fridge dispenser to fill it.
She placed the glass in the sink, turned off the light, and started walking back toward the bedroom.
A shift in energy at her back made her senses sharpen. A rough hand slapped a cloth over her mouth and an arm circled her waist, holding down both her arms. The sweet scent of chloroform hit her awareness. Panic singed her spine.
She jerked, throwing her body. The hand on her face tightened, pinching her jaw. She tried to scream, straining her throat, but nothing more than a grunt came out.
Her vision flickered.
If she didn’t get free, she’d pass out any second.
Terror wrapped its icy fingers around her, but she mustered all of her training.
Pushing back against her attacker’s chest, she threw her legs in the air.
Her foot caught the lip of the counter and allowed her enough force to throw the person backward.
Her assailant smacked into the fridge. The sound was abrupt but not loud enough. The arm holding down her biceps crushed her flesh. Tears stung her eyes.
Ghost!
The desperate plea rippled through her consciousness. His name was like a song, the notes dragging out as her muscles turned to jelly.
Inky rays of sleep pulled at her mind. She hung on by a thread, her eyes rolling. A movement caught her eye—another person.
“Fucking bitch won’t let go,” the person holding her whispered.
Fresh fear hit her, but she was sinking.
“Go. We’re running out of time.”
Mila’s body went limp. Her eyelids slammed shut, but not before she saw the other intruder turn toward the hallway. Toward where Ghost slept.
***
The air in the room arced with energy. Ghost snapped open his eyes. Pinpricks of warning ran up his spine. His gaze fell to the empty spot next to him on the bed. The cold sheets where Mila should’ve been.
His pulse amplified against his eardrums.
A flurry of movement at the side of his bed jolted him. A masked man rushed toward him. Ghost rolled as a knife came down. Moonlight glittered off the smooth metal as it plunged into his pillow.
Ghost lunged, tackling the guy to the ground. “Where is she?” he bellowed, holding the bastard to the floor.
The attacker still held the knife and was valiantly trying to stab Ghost in the side.
He seized the man’s wrist and slammed his arm against the floor until the blade skittered out of his hold.
“Mila!” he screamed. The need to lay eyes on her paralyzed him.
No response greeted him, confirming his deepest fear.
Wham!
A knee hit him in the gut. Pain shot through his midsection. The man squirmed just enough to free his other leg and kick out of Ghost’s grasp.
The attacker reached for something at his ankle. Ghost saw the gun before the guy could pull it from his holster.
He slammed his foot into the fucker’s face. The attacker staggered back but didn’t pass out. Ghost grabbed the gun and turned it on him.
Rage shot through his veins, red, hot, and full of menace. He got to his feet and ripped off the guy’s mask. “Where is she?” he demanded again.
The cocksucker spat at him, but it just dribbled down the douchebag’s chin. Ghost slammed his hand around the guy’s throat, holding him down with so much force he could feel tendons and cartilage popping against his palm.
The man choked and sputtered and kicked.
Ghost eased the pressure a fraction. “Talk!” he barked, grinding the mouth of the gun against the fucker’s temple.
His hand shook, but not just from fury. Also from fear. The unfamiliar emotion twisted like a dozen screws in the center of his chest, sending an ache along his nerve endings.
If they’d hurt her, he’d lose it.
The man’s eyes bulged. “Gone,” he whispered.
Ghost’s blood pressure dropped to a dangerous level. He loosened his hold.
The man sucked in a frantic breath.
“Who sent you?”
The man blinked and wet his lips. “I-Irinia.”
Shock hit him like a bucket of cold water.
He whacked the butt of the gun into the man’s temple. His head snapped to the side and his eyes flickered shut. Ghost leapt to his feet. “Mila!” he shouted again, racing into the kitchen. Maybe they hadn’t gotten far.
Hitting the lights as he went, he searched the area for signs of a struggle. Nothing. He bolted out the front door in his bare feet and goddamn underwear.
The cold wrapped around his exposed skin. The light from the streetlamps pooled on the street, showing him absolutely nothing.
No getaway car waiting nearby. No tire tracks. Not a single fucking clue.
She was gone.
His body vibrated. He stormed back inside and went directly to the laundry room, where he kept his tools. After grabbing a roll of duct tape, he returned to his bedroom.
The man on the floor hadn’t regained consciousness. Ghost seized his phone from the nightstand and called Rami.
With the device pinched between his ear and shoulder, he knelt beside the intruder and bound his wrists with the tape.
Rami answered groggily on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me. Mila’s been taken. They got her.” He went to the guy’s ankles and wrapped those too. His movements were automatic, robotic.
“Fuck.”
Ghost went to his dresser, shook out a pair of jeans, and stepped into them. “I need to find her.” He spoke more for his benefit than Rami’s.
He heard Ivy’s sleepy voice in the background.
“Go back to sleep, babe,” Rami told her. A door clicked shut. “All right. Gimme a quick rundown of what happened.”
Ghost’s gaze landed on the bed and his stomach bottomed out. “I don’t know. I woke up to someone rushing me with a knife and realized she was gone.”
“Footage?”
He hit speaker and pulled on a henley. “I’ll check. I’ve got one of the guys here. His partner must’ve left without him when he realized he was caught.”
“Good. We’ll question him. I’ll call the guys and we’ll meet you there. Get started on the footage and see what you can determine. Hunter said he had people ready to—”
“It wasn’t Hunter.” He scooped the phone from the bed and stalked down the hall to his office.
“Who’s got her?”
“Irinia. The woman who kidnapped her when she was a kid.”
Rami blew out a breath. “Jesus.”
“Mila cut ties with her earlier. Told her she was done. I should’ve fucking known she might try something.”
“All right.” Rami’s voice was level. “We’ve got a good starting point. Find out what else you can. We’ll get her back, man.”
Ghost didn’t respond. He hung up and shoved the computer chair aside. It bounced off the wall. No way he could sit right now. He fired up his PC and opened the security system.
In less than a minute, he’d brought up the playback of the last half hour. At 3:43a.m., Mila went to the bathroom. He switched to the other camera angle. He had one camera in his room and another in the main area.
Mila walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Seeing her move around, alive and well, was like a trick of the mind. A dark figure stepped out of the hallway. He must’ve been hiding in the office. From this vantage point, Ghost couldn’t see where the intruders had entered.
The man slinked through the dark. He pulled something white from his pocket. Ghost squinted, leaning in closer to the screen. The guy spilled something from a glass bottle into a rag. Had to be chloroform.
He wanted to get up and go to the kitchen, to intervene, but he couldn’t do anything but watch. Mila placed her glass in the sink and walked toward the bedroom. As soon as she passed the man’s hiding spot—against the wall around the corner beside the fridge—he jumped her.
Mila fought. Damn, the cocksucker had a hold on her. She pushed off from the edge of the island, sending her attacker into the fridge.
Ghost tensed. His hands bunched into fists. As pointless as it was, he couldn’t help but root for her as she twisted and fought back. Even though he knew she wouldn’t succeed. It was like watching a movie on repeat, hoping for a different outcome.
A second man approached. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Mila’s limbs went lax. Her eyes closed.
Ghost’s windpipe constricted as he watched the soon-to-be-dead man sling Mila over his shoulder and make his way toward the front of the townhouse. His pulse roared at a deafening decibel. Emotion built in his sinuses. If they fucking touched her—
He struggled to breathe. Tension radiated from his chest to his jaw. Christ, he hadn’t felt this kind of fear, this kind of protectiveness since...
Innocent eyes. A sweet smile. A little voice chanting his name and—
His brain shut down momentarily.
If he didn’t get his shit together, he’d crack. Mila needed him. He couldn’t save Evie, but he’d do everything in his power to get Mila back.
He opened the other camera views. Although the front entrances weren’t in sight of the cameras, he suspected the men had entered through the garage door.
When he’d gone out the front earlier, the door had been intact and the luck untouched.
He made his way to the front of the house, the interior door leading to the garage was unlocked.
With his gun at his side, he yanked it open.
The man door that led outside was also unlocked.
No fucking way he’d done that. He checked the locks every night, and last night had been no different.