Chapter 25
“N o! Stop.” Mila hated the plea in her voice. How weak she sounded. She couldn’t even muster the strength to yell.
Shock had stolen her fight.
She sat on the wooden floor of the barn. Hay strewn around her. Her pulse revved up with panic as Irinia nodded at one of the men to wind the crank again. Every muscle in her body screamed. Her arms throbbed and her neck and shoulders were on fire.
The chain that was threaded through the shackles on her wrist rattled as the spool overhead rolled it up. A sob caught in her throat.
Irinia watched, transfixed and emotionless, as Mila’s body shook involuntarily.
The chain drew her arms higher and higher, pulling her body from the floor. She couldn’t take it again. The first time had been unbearable, the second torture. The third just might break her.
She fought to stay on her toes as long as she could, but seconds later she dangled several feet off the ground, trying desperately not to move or flinch because every sway, no matter how slight, pulled excruciatingly on her wrists, made the metal cut even deeper into her flesh.
“Alexei would be disappointed in you,” Irinia said.
Mila opened her eyes to stare down at the horrendous woman only feet away.
She tsked. “So disappointed. We’ve been at this not even an hour and you look ready to pass out. I knew that useless man was too soft on you.”
Anger surged through her like a tidal wave. She swung one of her legs as hard as she could, and her foot connected with Irinia’s jaw. The woman’s head snapped to the side.
She didn’t fall. But she stumbled. And goddammit, seeing the bitch weaken even a little brought life back into Mila’s depleted cells.
Irinia slowly turned back to Mila, her eyes glowing with rage and her face pinched. There was a large red mark on her skin, and the impact of Mila’s kick had shaken some of Irinia’s hair loose from her bun.
The man operating the crank whispered something sharply to the other man in the barn. Then silence flattened the air.
“You will pay for that, Malyshka ,” Irinia hissed. She turned on her heel and stormed across the barn. “Continue. I will be back in the morning.” She slammed the door behind her.
Mila struggled to take a breath. Her shoulders threatened to leap from their sockets, her arms to separate from her wrists. Tears stung her eyes.
Hate reawakened inside her, bringing a pulse to that part of her that’d died. She’d always resented Irinia. Always despised the woman. But this... this was twenty years of rage rushing through her.
Now, at twenty-nine years old, she didn’t care what Irinia had done in the past. She wouldn’t be afraid of her again. If she was to die this way, so be it. But she wasn’t going down without a fight, nor was she going alone.
If Irinia wanted her dead, she was coming with her.
Numbness spread down her arms. Her hands had lost feeling long ago. Slowly the crank was unwound. A gulp of relief hit her throat as her feet touched the ground. Unable to hold herself upright, she sank to the floor like a wet rag.
She fell forward and curled on her side. The men might see her as pitiful, but she knew her body’s limitations. She had to rest any way she could. The musty scent of hay tickled her nostrils as she swallowed one deep breath after another.
Voices carried through the barn, but she could make out only one word: water .
Unease gripped her. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to focus on her breath. The feeling returned to her arms and fingers, and the stinging sensation of blood returning to deprived extremities was almost as painful as being hung by her hands.
Warmth coated her wrists. She opened her eyes and stared at where the shackles looped around her. Blood oozed from the raw and red skin.
Mila fought a wave of emotion. More than anything, she wanted Ghost. Not just to rescue her, but to make her feel safe. To wrap his strong, warm arms around her.
A memory struck her—a man sneaking down the hallway toward Ghost’s room while she was held in the kitchen with a rag over her mouth.
Oh, god.
Had the attacker succeeded? He couldn’t have. Ghost was too strong. Too dangerous.
Still, doubt hit her from all angles. A small cry escaped her lips as she coiled her knees tightly to her abdomen.
She couldn’t believe someone had killed him. Wouldn’t allow her mind to go there.
If he was alive, he’d search for her. As flimsy as that hope was, she clung to it.
Footsteps scuffed across the floor, growing closer and closer. Panic weighed down her limbs.
She might not live to find out if Ghost was alive.
***
Ghost paced his living room, unable to stand still. He needed to move, to drive. Anything to actively search for Mila. Instead, he was stuck in his fucking townhouse with his team and fuckface Denis, who was bleeding all over his bedroom.
August was with their prisoner, Rami was with him, and Brick was outside talking on the phone, presumably to his fiancée, Natalie. Zain sat on the couch with an ankle propped on the opposite knee, silent and occasionally looking at Ghost with veiled interest.
Ghost laced his hands behind his head. He might’ve overdone it with Denis. Last he’d checked, the guy was partly in shock but still conscious. August was a medic, and he’d staunched some of Denis’s bleeding to ensure he didn’t die—yet.
They still didn’t have an address.
Taschen had said he’d call once he traced the phone of the man who’d taken Mila. That’d been almost half an hour ago. Soon, the sun would come up. Time was passing. It was only going to get harder to find her.
Brick came in through the back door. “Any news?” he asked.
Ghost exhaled a furious breath and Zain shook his head. “Nope. Was that Natalie?”
Brick sat on the other end of the couch. “Yeah, she woke up and realized I was gone. Couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“Shit,” Zain said. “Bray’s going to be up soon.” Bray was Brick’s son, a wild three-year-old who ran on unbridled energy day and night.
Hell, knowing Natalie was pregnant with their second, Ghost almost felt bad for her. If he weren’t so engrossed with finding Mila, he’d have sent Brick home so Natalie could rest. Right now, they needed all hands on deck.
“I’ll take Bray to the indoor pool this afternoon—” He flicked his gaze to Ghost. “Once we find Mila of course.”
Zain grunted. “Last I saw, that little turd was ready to jump off the diving board.”
“Yup, he did it last week. Fearless little hellion.”
Zain chuckled.
For reasons Ghost couldn’t fathom, Bray had taken a liking to Zain. It was almost comical to see the two of them together: Zain, so dark and ominous looking, and Bray, a little fireball who chattered nonstop.
Ghost’s heart ached. He’d never wanted kids. Because of Evie, he’d learned at a young age that having kids meant walking around with your heart exposed. No flesh or ribcage to protect it. Just beating and vulnerable.
He never wanted to experience that again. Nor had he ever wanted a wife. But Mila meant something to him. She was more than a piece of ass, more than an emotional attachment... more than a friend.
He didn’t want to see what tomorrow looked like without her. Falling for Mila had made him vulnerable.
Fire burned the inside of his chest. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. If he didn’t get her back, he’d never forgive himself. He’d—
A phone rang from the bedroom.
Moments later Rami appeared. His attention instantly landed on Ghost. “Yeah, he’s on the line.” He held out the device. “It’s Taschen.”
Ghost punched the speaker button. “What’d you find?” Ghost asked, without wasting a beat.
“Nick Shriver is our guy’s name. The number you gave me was his personal cell, not encrypted. Which is fucking lucky. I couldn’t get a clear image of the plate number from your outdoor camera footage.”
“All right, so we know his name. Where the hell is he?” Ghost barked.
“Last location we got was forty minutes from Seattle. Near Carnation.”
Ghost bunched his fists. “That’s vague as fuck.”
Taschen sighed. “I know, man. But it’s not like there’s a cell tower in every backyard. We can narrow it down. We don’t have a plate, but we have the make and model of the van. That’s a win.”
“It’s not a win if we don’t find her,” Ghost snapped.
Rami gave him a sympathetic look. “Taschen, see if you can find any properties registered under Nick, Irinia, or her family. Maybe something that was recently sold, or hell, even rental properties in the area. They might not own the land, but I doubt many places are for rent that far from the city. That could be a good indication of where they’re hiding her. ”
“All right. I’ll get back to you.” Taschen ended the call.
Brick stood. “What’s his name? I’ll see if I can find him on social media.”
Brick pulled out his phone. Anticipation rattled through Ghost. Now that they had a general location, he couldn’t just sit here. But nothing but a cell-tower ping wasn’t much to go on.
“What are you thinking?” Zain asked Ghost.
He started to pace again. “I want to go there now. But fuck, the cell tower could’ve just picked up Nick’s phone as they drove past. We don’t even know if they stopped there.”
“True, but Taschen will continue to check his number for locations. If something changes, we’ll know.”
Ghost shoved his hands into his pockets. “And if they stopped to cut her into pieces and bury her in the forest, we won’t know.”
Brick made a face. “Don’t think like that, dude. But I’m with you. We can’t sit here doing nothing.”
“Maybe some of us should stay back in case Taschen gets another hit from Nick’s phone or a different lead in the city.”
Ghost nodded. “I agree.”
“I’ll stay with August,” Brick said.
Rami gave him a curt nod. “Keep the douchebag alive for now.” He jerked his head toward Zain. “Me, you, and Ghost will head toward Carnation. Hopefully we’ll hear from Taschen with more intel by then.”
Ghost stormed into his bedroom without so much as a glance at the guy on the floor. August sat on the end of his bed, his eyes rooted to his captive and disgust twisting his face. “You leavin’?”
“Yup. We’ve got a location. Brick’s staying with you. He’ll fill you in.” He removed a change of clothes from his dresser and went to the spare room.
After quickly getting dressed, he went to the gun cabinet in the closet where he kept all his weapons under lock and key.
He shouldered on his bulletproof vest, hooked a knife onto his pants pocket, returned his SIG to the waistband at his back, and grabbed his AR-15 and bullets.
Then he locked shit back up and returned to the living room.
Rami and Zain waited at the door.
“You have your stuff or do we need to stop?”
Zain snorted. “Wouldn’t have come unprepared. Let’s go.”
They went outside. The hour gave the darkness an eerie sensation.
He’d already been up for a while, and his body was running so high on cortisol that the lack of daylight was almost jolting.
He slid in the front passenger seat of one of Backcountry’s work trucks.
Rami hopped behind the wheel and Zain got in the back seat.
The bulletproof body and tires usually gave Ghost a sense of invincibility.
But right now, as he settled into the leather and clicked his seatbelt in place, he still felt as raw as an exposed nerve.
If Mila wasn’t near Nick’s location and Taschen didn’t have other news to report, all this was for nothing.
Hell, they could be on a wild goose chase.
But if he thought like that, he’d lose his mind. They had to make use of what little information they had... or do nothing. And nothing wasn’t an option.
Rami backed out of the driveway.
The sight of his house lit by the headlights struck Ghost. Leaving his home without Mila cut a deep ache inside him.
An ache that days ago, he wouldn’t have acknowledged. But now... now he couldn’t hide from the emotion chasing him, demanding recognition.
He’d never loved a woman before. Never fallen this hard for anyone.
But Mila had snuck in behind his armor with her smart mouth, deadly kicks, and riveting blue eyes. She’d dismantled him when she’d fallen down the hill, unchained him when he’d pulled her from the river, and stolen his fucking heart when he’d learned about her past.
Mila had filled a void in him he’d never cared to look at before. Not only had she shown him that he needed her, she’d taught him he could be wanted, too.
That he could give as much as he took.
Fear clashed with anger, creating a vicious tornado in his blood. He’d get her back—had to. And he’d kill everyone who’d hurt her.