Chapter 17
chapter
seventeen
Drake
Iza?
After five more minutes, my irritation at the traffic turned into concern for Izabel. I mounted the phone on the dock and called her.
Her phone went to voicemail.
I called Gordy, but that also went to voicemail.
A tendril of fear licked down my spine. Viktor mentioned in our briefing that five private military contractors had met with Exetron CEO Mitchell three days before.
There was nothing unusual about the meeting because Mitchell hired PMCs all the time, especially for their oil refinery companies in Africa.
Just when I was about to swipe call again, my phone rang.
Harrelson calling.
Dread burned in my gut like battery acid. “Maddox.”
“They got her.”
Crushing fear weighed heavy on my lungs, but I couldn’t afford to lose my shit now. With dead calm, I replied, “Be there in ten.”
The exit was about a quarter of a mile away.
I surveyed the sea of red taillights. “Fuck this.” I yanked the steering wheel and pulled to the right lane, barely missing a collision with an RV.
Angry blasts from car horns slid off my consciousness as I switched to SEAL mode.
Despite all my training, my fingers shook when I brought up the BloodTrak app and registered her signal.
The bastards were skirting the interstate and taking Izabel heading west.
Glancing ahead, the shoulder was free. I could go after her and go in guns blazing. Or I could take seven minutes to get to Marcus, get the info I needed with what we were up against, and touch base with Viktor to see whether the AGS boss was aware and had already formed a plan.
Without another thought, I wrenched the SUV into the emergency lane on the verge of the interstate and sped past stopped traffic.
At the swerve for the exit, a siren sounded behind me, but I wasn’t stopping, even for a cop.
I had one mission: Get Izabel back.
Two police cruisers screeched behind me as I made a sharp turn on the street leading to Izabel’s building. I slammed to a stop beside a sedan, careful not to block any emergency vehicles already parked.
Marcus was accompanying a backboard down the steps.
Ignoring the shouts from the cops at my flank, I sprinted toward Harrelson.
“Looks like you brought the cavalry,” Marcus muttered.
I recognized Gordy. “How is he?”
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” my friend said grimly.
“Did he say anything about Izabel?”
“No.”
Someone tapped my shoulder. I spun around and glared at the cop, who was interrupting my conversation with Marcus.
“You’re that SEAL,” the man gulped. He had a pasty white skin with freckles and looked like he just graduated from the academy.
“Yeah. Sorry about the chase, but I’ve got shit going down.”
“Sir, are you aware it’s a felony to—” Freckle Face started, glancing at the other three cops who had given chase to my vehicle, but were also now fidgeting nervously.
“My wife’s been kidnapped,” I growled.
The cop’s eyes widened as he struggled to find the words to say. “You can report it?—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I threw up my hands. All four police officers drew their firearms.
“Holster your guns, dammit!” Marcus bellowed. Stepping in front of me, he pulled Freckle Face aside and explained the situation in rapid-fire speech.
Meanwhile, I checked my phone and saw a missed call from Viktor.
“They’re on 460 heading to Richmond,” Viktor said when I called him. “Guardians are tracking.”
“Mitchell’s men?”
“Confirmed.”
“You have a plan?” I gestured to Marcus that I was leaving and strode past the officers, who gave me a wide berth.
“Not quite. Harrelson with you?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him along.”
“His man was shot.”
“I’m aware. But he’d want in on this.”
“Don’t think he’s ready.”
“And you’re too close to the situation.”
“I’m not standing down,” I snarled.
“I’ve made my point,” Viktor clipped and ended the call.
“You’re going after her.” Marcus approached, stopped, and stared at me across the hood of my SUV.
“Guardians have a twenty on the vehicle.” I paused. “Viktor wants you on the op.”
Marcus’s brows drew together. “But you don’t.”
“I can’t risk Izabel,” I admitted.
“My wife and sons,” Marcus gritted through his teeth. “I’ve already let them down. Give me this chance, Lieutenant.”
We stared at each other for long seconds…seconds we had no business wasting. “Come on.”
Marcus’s eyes flared with the fire of the operator he once was. “Let me get a man on Gordy.”
Izabel
My whole body was a mass of aches.
I sat in a chair in a poorly lit room, the bulb of an ancient lamp flickering faultily in one corner. Restraints bit into my skin, arms pulled back painfully, that each fraction of movement became agony. The muscles of my neck screamed with tension and tightness.
And yet I refused to give the lanky man before me any satisfaction.
Lawrence Mitchell wore slacks and a dress shirt.
He had a head of white hair with a distinct widow’s peak.
He had the sort of tan that wasn’t from long hours under the sun but from a bottle or a tanning bed.
Unkempt black brows slashed over his eyes.
He reminded me every bit of a James Bond villain.
He flashed me an even white smile. I thought all he needed was gold teeth.
“Let’s do this again, Mrs. Maddox, and my men will ease your restraints.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Such language from a beautiful woman like you.”
He was sitting in an opposite chair with no table between us. His legs were crossed nonchalantly, with hands linked in front of a knee. “Your husband. Where was he for the past three years? Who was he working for and who financed it?”
“He hasn’t told me anything.”
“And yet, you were not surprised to see me.”
I could have kicked myself for making that mistake. I had Googled Lawrence Mitchell after I’d heard Drake and the guys talk about him. I wanted to know everything about the person responsible for the death of so many brave men. I thinned my lips, refusing to speak.
“What does your husband have on me?” Mitchell repeated the very first question he asked when they’d woken me up. “He must have given you a damn good excuse…why he didn’t choose you?—”
“Your tactics aren’t going to work?—”
“He made you a widow for three years and you’ve been faithful to his memory, haven’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re a woman who loves deeply,” he continued. “But a man like Drake Maddox—do you think he’s been faithful?”
I burst out laughing, ignoring the chagrin and waves of anger coming from Mitchell.
Admittedly, my amusement was tinged with a bit of hysteria, because I was close to losing my freaking mind.
It helped that I’d built up some hate against Mitchell and Tierney ever since I found out about their involvement.
Imagining ways I would cut them down with my bottled hatred.
“You don’t know a man like Drake. If you did, you wouldn’t have abducted me. He will come for me and you will be sorry.”
He snorted derisively. “What a cliché statement.”
He stood and looked at the burly shadow in the corner.
“You’re stronger than I gave you credit for.
I admire that in a woman, but not in someone from whom I need information.
” The pitying look he gave me sent a wave of terror that threatened to overwhelm my flagging bravado.
Coop emerged from the darkness and dragged a desk beside me.
He opened a small black case, revealing columns of syringes.
“I abhor torture, but I’m all about incentive.
I truly believe you don’t have anything useful to give me, but I know who does. ”
“Wait,” I whispered, panic choking me. “What are you doing?”
“There are different interrogation methods,” Mitchell said casually. “I don’t like blood and I’d hate to mar your perfect skin, so we’ll stick to the pharmaceutical kind.”
Coop held up a big syringe.
“You’re not afraid of needles, are you?”