Chapter 40 Brady
brADY
Seth is still moaning when we throw him into the surveillance van. Rhodes shoves him to the floor, yanks his wrists tighter with a fresh zip-tie, and stuffs a gag in his mouth.
I climb in and drop onto the seat above him. The van door slams shut behind me. “Sit tight.” My voice is steady, but I want to crush his skull against the floor. “One noise, and I’ll break your jaw.”
He believes me. Good.
Finn is already behind the wheel. Rhodes takes shotgun, phone pressed tight to his ear as he calls in two of our other operatives, but I have no intention of waiting for them.
My sister and Vincent jump in our black SUV parked nearby.
Both vehicles peel out, heading northwest, into the dark residential roads that cut through the city’s richest neighborhoods.
I check my gun and then take the spare magazines Rhodes hands me from the front seat without a word, stuffing them into my pockets.
The van is silent. The tension is so thick I can feel it filling my lungs.
I’ve trained for this, executed more than a few raids.
But none that mattered this much. I can’t get Elizabeth out of my head.
She must be petrified.
Rhodes must pick up the shift in my breathing because he leans sideways and places another gun on Finn’s thigh. His voice is even. “She’s only got a fifteen-to-twenty-minute lead. Maybe less.”
“They’ll need more time than that,” Finn adds, eyes on the road. “They’ll have to prep a location, secure her. Probably bring someone in. Anna’s not going to get her hands dirty.”
“She didn’t get Elizabeth out of the hotel alone.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend. “Someone helped her. More than one.”
The van falls silent.
I stare out the windshield, jaw locked, fists clenched so hard my knuckles ache.
Every second that passes is another second she’s in their hands.
We all heard the voicemail of Keith’s death.
These aren’t people who hesitate to inflict pain.
It feels like the countdown has already started, and I’m not moving fast enough to beat it.
We hit the turnoff for West Paces, winding through narrow, hilly roads lined with gates and hedges taller than most houses. Mansions peek from behind them, quiet in the dark.
Rhodes hands me and Finn new earpieces. I clip mine in, ignoring the tremor in my fingers.
“Three minutes out,” Rhodes says.
“Should be on the right,” comes his voice again through comms. “Satellite shows no access from the back.”
“Roll past and park up the street. We don’t have time to stash the vehicles, but she’s got cameras on the gate, guaranteed.”
“Yeah, nothing screams inconspicuous like an electric company van in Buckhead at night,” Finn mutters.
“It’s not ideal, but we’re going for speed, not style.”
Rhodes cuts in. “Think Anna’s waiting for us?”
“She couldn’t have known we’d grab Seth that fast,” Finn replies. “Or that he’d fold this easy.”
Finn doesn’t slow as we pass the Lindquist gate, and it takes everything in me not to throw the door open and charge.
I must not be hiding my face well, because Finn glances at me, his voice softening. “She’s going to be okay, Brady.”
I don’t answer. Can’t.
He doesn’t know that. None of us do.
But I know this, whatever happens, I’m not leaving without Elizabeth. Either she comes out alive with me, or no one walks out of that house.
She trusted me. Did everything I asked of her. And I let her down.
The thought of never hearing her voice again, never seeing those crystalline eyes narrow, never having the chance to tell her that I love her hollows me out.
Rhodes reaches back and clamps a hand on my shoulder, hard. His voice is steady, grounding. “Game face. She needs a professional right now. Not her boyfriend.”
I nod once. He’s right.
Both vehicles cut their lights, and we roll to a stop.
“Vests on, people.”
When Sera meets us outside with a tactical vest on, I reach out to stop her. My sister is a badass, but she doesn’t have the training for this or any sort of battle experience.
“Not you.”
Her face flushes red, and she opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “I need you here ready to go when we come out with her.” I stare hard into her eyes.
“I’m just as capable—”
“No, you’re not.” Vincent snaps. "And we don’t have the time to baby your feelings right now, kid. You are most valuable to us as a driver and eyes in the sky.”
Sera presses her lips together but gives one furious nod. We move fast, gearing up in silence, all in black—vests, holsters, night vision, advanced comms.
I’m slipping a Glock into my thigh holster when I hear my sister’s soft voice. “You'd better come back, dickhead.”
I want to smile, to reassure her it will be fine, like I have her entire life. But I can’t, and she sees it in my eyes.
Because I’m not coming back without Elizabeth.
“Love you,” I say.
“Love you, too.”
Moving in two teams of two, we approach the wrought-iron gate. The driveway curves out of sight, beyond the gate, the house hidden from the street.
“How far?” Finn’s whisper crackles in my ear
“The house sits on five acres. Rear approach to the property is inadvisable. Windows on all sides. Front door is about a hundred yards from the gate,” Rhodes replies.
“Motion sensors?” I ask.
“Standard infrared at the gate, but nothing showing up beyond that. They’re counting on distance and privacy, not a fully-armed attack.” Rhodes explains.
I frown. “No other active perimeter defense?”
“Maybe she’s gotten arrogant along with her creepy friends,” Rhodes adds. “Probably thought no one would fight back. Carrow’s security was seriously lax, too.”
“There are four entry points: front door, garage side door, staff entrance on the west wall, and the kitchen breezeway door,” Sera adds in my ear. “Interior’s open concept. Multiple stairwells.”
“She’s not holding Elizabeth in an open floor plan,” Finn muses. “She’ll want a basement or a room they can close off. It’s better for the psychological fear portion of an interrogation.”
Rhodes grunts, “Agreed. Why get messy if you don’t have to? There was a wine cellar on the blueprints.”
I try not to think about what their words mean. Try not to think about the fact that the target… the client… is Elizabeth.
“All right. Standard split. Vincent and Rhodes breach the west wall, take the staff entrance, and sweep the rear entry. Finn and I will cover the east, and enter through the kitchen door. Link up at the central stairwell. Sera, are you into the cameras yet?”
“Just about…” I hear her muttering and swallow the urge to bark at her to work faster.
“Okay. I’m in. Huh? Not as many cameras as I thought there’d be.”
Splitting from Vincent and Rhodes, Finn and I stay along the public road before cutting into the tree line. Branches scrape my vest as we move low and fast along the wooded edge of the property, using the foliage for cover.
The wall surrounding the property isn’t tall—eight feet—but iron spikes top it.
I crouch, lace my fingers, and boost Finn up first. He swings a leg over and then extends his hand to me. I follow, boots hitting the brick path hard. A few lights glow inside, but there’s no movement in the windows.
“Basement first,” Rhodes murmurs through the comms. “No sign of life on the upper floors.”
“Copy.”
“Staff entrance alarm deactivated,” Sera says in my ear.
“Copy,” Vincent replies.
Finn and I reach the kitchen exterior door. A red blinking light stares back at us.
“I see it,” Sera says. A second later, there is an audible click. The light goes green.
We sweep the kitchen, goggles lighting every detail. Empty. We move into the house, a large staircase looms in front of us.
“Approaching the staircase.”
“Rear all clear. Approaching,” Rhodes says. I catch their movement as they join us.
“Entrance to the wine cellar, straight ahead.” Vincent’s voice is barely louder than a whisper.
We tighten formation, moving in a diamond, weapons raised, through a hallway lined with portraits—the Lindquist family staring down at us. We pass in silence.
Heavy footfalls sound.
I raise a fist. Everyone freezes.
A second later, the door to our left clicks open. A muscular man steps into the hall from the basement stairs, shoulder holster visible. He doesn’t even notice us.
Rhodes surges forward, chopping his throat. The man’s shout turns into a wet gurgle as Rhodes locks him into a hold.
“Easy.” Vincent presses his pistol to the guy’s temple. “I’m going to raise fingers. Nod when I hit the number of men down there. Got it?”
The man doesn’t move. Vincent lifts his hand. One finger, two, three, four, five. Nothing.
Vincent sighs, “Oh well,” and cracks the guy across the head with the butt of his gun. The man’s knees buckle. Rhodes lowers him soundlessly to the floor.
“That’s two,” Sera says in my ear. “She only had one guard at the party. Doubt she keeps more than a handful at the house. Security doesn’t appear to be her strong suit.”
I hope she’s right. But we can’t count on it.
Then I hear it.
A scream. High, female, and full of agony.
Elizabeth.
Every plan, every ounce of caution, blows apart. I tear down the stairwell two steps at a time, weapon up, fury burning through my veins.
I burst into the cellar, not waiting to clear as I know I should.
An older woman with a glass of wine. Two guards. And Elizabeth. My brain instantly catalogues the threats.
She’s tied to a chair, wrists bound, head hanging, her hair a curtain covering her face.
Is she alive?
Don’t look. Don’t think about her.
One of the guards raises his weapon, but he’s too slow. Two rounds and he’s thrown back, slamming back against a wine rack, the bottles shattering around him.
“Left!” Vincent’s voice is sharp near my ear. He’s already moving, breaking wide as Rhodes barrels past me.