3. Aiden
Aiden
Tits up doesn’t even begin to cover it. Every word from Lane’s mouth sharpens my temper, making me wish I were alone so I could let it loose. Instead, I keep a neutral face and give nothing away.
The three fuckers we’re after seem to have a talent for leaving a mess in their wake.
“Remember, don’t shoot the messenger.”
I exhale through my nose. “Just tell me.”
“When I pulled up to her driveway, the gate was broken. Not just a little broken, either—it looked like someone drove a fucking tank through it.”
Fuck. This is bad.
“So I parked my truck on a side street and we worked our way back.” He lets out a heavy breath, then pushes on.
“Fuck, man… the closer we got, I knew we were about to walk into a shitshow. The backdoor was busted wide open, and the alarm system blown to fucking smithereens. We made our way inside through the kitchen. I swear, it looked like a war zone—cabinet doors hanging off their hinges, pots and pans scattered, knives buried in surfaces, with bullet holes in the walls. Like Arma-fucking-geddon.”
I spin my chair away from the men in front of me, putting my back to the room. With each passing second, my temper edges closer to snapping.
“The rest of the place didn’t look much better… then we walked into the library.” Lane cuts off, and for a second I think the call dropped.
When he comes back, his voice is low and tight. “Marty was in there. Tied him to a damn chair. Someone beat the ever-living shit out of him. His head was lolling to the side. I honestly thought he was dead.”
“Christ, bet he’s livid they got the jump on him like that.” My fist tightens, every muscle in my body coiling, ready to unleash on these arseholes when we find them.
“He is. He looks like death, but he’s pissed and ready to hunt these fuckers down.
” Lane’s voice stays flat, all business.
“After I convinced him I was a friend and not foe, I cut him loose and we went searching for Ryan. Found him in a back bedroom, completely out of his head with rage. He’d woke up to three men standing over him.
Two held him down while the third put a cloth over his mouth.
Thought it was Marty taking the piss with him for eating his leftovers.
It took Marty several minutes to calm him down and explain that it wasn’t him but his twin, Marvin.
He’s still out of it from the drugs they injected.
Bastards left it sticking out of his thigh.
His wrists and ankles are torn up from how hard he struggled.
But he’s stabilizing fast. Adrenaline kicking in. He wants payback.”
“Tell him to get in line.” As I’m about to add more, another call comes in. “Hey, got to go. Teddy’s calling.”
“He’s calling me too. I’ll switch over.”
We switch over to Teddy’s call. He waits only long enough to know we’re both there before filling us in. “You aren’t going to like this. Marvin must have clocked I was onto him and legged it.”
“Fuck.” I kick the cabinet in front of me. “Find him.”
“That’s not all.” Teddy’s voice lowers, tightening at the edges.
“I was about to have the nurse page your lady when Dr. Grieves, her supervisor, and that other young doctor she works with, Dr. Fletcher, walked out of the OR wing. I stopped them, told them I was a relative of Dr. Hilbert’s and wanted to speak to Dr. Lopez about her condition.
Grieves lost it, going off about how she’d done a runner for the last time and that when he found her, she was finished.
Before I could press him, he stormed off.
Fletcher hung back long enough to say that wasn’t normal, and after all that went down with her guards, he was concerned.
Before I could say shit, Grieves yelled to get his arse moving or he’d sack him too. ”
“The four of us are heading there now,” Lane says, his voice cutting through the noise. A series of loud bangs—car doors slamming—carry down the line, followed by muffled voices. “Tell me where to meet you, Teddy.”
Teddy’s voice comes through tight, breathless. “In the main lobby.”
Pauly’s voice cut in next. “I’m hacking into the hospital cameras now.”
This is where being an undercover informant becomes a problem. “Fuck… give me a second to think.”
My pulse kicks hard, pulling me to get to Oxford. I need eyes on Isabel. But moving now means explaining to Silas why I have men outside the family reporting to me.
I can spin it. Say I put people I trusted on Isabel because I didn’t trust her guards. Using Doyle men would’ve raised questions with her family. He’d likely accept that, given where things stand between us.
“I’ll call as soon as I know anything. We just pulled up.”
As Lane disconnects, I turn back around and set my phone face up on the desk, holding it with a firm grip.
I fix Cort with a hard look. “Why would your Russian friends go after Isabel’s guards?”
Silas whistles under his breath as Cort’s eyes bug out, his shoulder lifting in a useless shrug.
“First, they aren’t my friends. And who’s Isabel?” His expression tells me he’s lost.
Silas, however, isn’t. He shifts in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee. “I’m ready when you are, just say the word.”
My phone rings and I grab it. “Speak.”
He taps the desk. “Put it on speaker.”
I shouldn’t, but if I don’t, he’ll get suspicious.
“I’m putting you on speaker.” After placing the phone back on the desk, I push the button. “Now speak.”
“She’s not here.”
My chair flies back, slamming into the cabinets behind me, as I stand. “What do you mean she’s not there?”
“Just that. She’s not here.” Realizing I’m about to snap, Lane offers a more thorough explanation.
“Ryan’s checking her tracker, but so far, it hasn’t been activated.
That means one of two things. Either she didn’t have it on her or they found it and tossed it.
He can ping it, but has to call that in.
We ran out of the house in a hurry. Both men left without grabbing backup phones.
Marty’s brother took his, and Ryan’s not sure where his is.
It wasn’t where he’d put it before crashing. ”
“Hold up. If they don’t have their phones, how can they check the tracker?” I don’t like this. “Does that mean the three soon to be dead men have their phones? And if we activate it, does that mean they’ll see and know we’re onto them?”
“Web access. Pauly’s letting them use his backup laptop to log in. And Ryan says that if the fuckers have their phones, they can’t use them. They locked down tight with a twelve-digit access code that changes daily and is sent down from the king’s guards.”
I feel slightly better, but not much. Basically, he’s telling me I’m the only one who can call it in, but if I do that, I’ll be exposing myself.
“Isabel gave me her brother’s contact info in case I needed it. I’ll make the call. Do what you do and leave nothing to chance. If you find anything, ring me.”
I end the call and pick up my phone again, dragging my thumb through my contacts until I find what I’m looking for.
It rings and rings before cutting to voicemail. I slam my phone on the desk with a groan.
“Didn’t answer?” Silas fishes his out of his pocket and rises. “Keep trying. I’ll call for backup.”
He points at Cort, finger rigid. “You’d better hope nothing happens to her. He’s far meaner than I am.”
Cort tracks him out of the room before looking back at me. “She’s important?”
“Very.” When it rings again, I answer immediately. “Speak freely.”
“Got it.” Pauly rattles off all the information he has.
“Marvin grabbed her as soon as she emerged from surgery. Moved her straight to the garage where his other friends were waiting. Your girl didn’t go quietly.
Nearly got away, but luck was not on her side.
They tossed her into an SUV. This all went down about an hour ago. ”
“Destination.”
“Your faith in me gives me warm fuzzies.” He snickers, but only for a second. “It took me a minute, but I’ve located it. They’re heading north toward Kirtlington.”
Trent owns a place in Kirtlington.
Soulcombe.
With over three hundred acres of land, Soulcombe is secluded.
Its vast wooded grounds offering privacy most would pay a fortune for.
A large equestrian estate sits on one side of the property, where horses are trained for wealthy polo enthusiasts.
But that is only a fraction of what really happens there.
Far from the spectacle of the family-friendly polo matches, on the opposite end of the estate, there’s a darker side. One reserved for those willing to pay for exclusive access.
I’ve been there a few times. Trent conducts business there he can’t risk in London.
But you don’t just drop by without an invitation.
Mine hasn’t come, but I’ve never been one to wait.
If this is where they’re taking Isabel, I’ll be inviting myself.
And I won’t be ringing the doorbell when I arrive.
But why take her there? Everything suggests these men aren’t working for Trent—but someone named Mr. Cygan.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Pauly’s always had a knack for that. “But they aren’t heading in the right direction. They’ve already passed Kirtlington, where Soulcombe is.”
“It crossed my mind.” My gaze lifts to Cort, locking with his. A silent warning passes between us before he gives a small nod. “I’ve got something else. See if you can find any property owned by a Mr. Cygan.”
“You have a first name?” Pauly ask, the rapid click of keys echoing in the background.
“Not yet.” I debate about saying this in front of Cort, but right now I have no other choice. Not if I want to get to Isabel before something happens. “Check anyone who has ties to the Del Markovs.”
Pauly whistles. “That helps some, but so far I’m not seeing anything. I’ll keep digging.”
“What about Alma? Have you found out where that piece of shit is taking her?” I can’t believe someone got to her so easily.
“With everything else going on, I forgot to tell you. Fifteen minutes ago, they stopped. They’re in East Ham. I did my thing. If the car moves again, it’ll alert me.”
Pauly grunts. “Can’t confirm which stack of homes he’s taken her in.
CCTV’s patchy in the area and it’s dark.
But I have him pinned, and a team’s moving in.
Figured it was smarter to put someone else on her while we deal with this shitshow.
You remember Holster? He’s on-site with two other men he trusts. ”
Holster’s someone Pauly works with regularly, so I trust him.
While Pauly talks, Silas comes back into the office and takes his seat again. His attention stays fixed on me. He’s not about to let this conversation remain private.
So I turn my back on him and plant my arse against my desk. It’s a risky move. Silas could stab me or pull a gun and end it right here.
But he’s not here for that. He wants the same thing I do.
Find Isabel. Then figure out what the hell we’re up against.
“I trust you. Tell the others to hold tight. After I wrap shit up here, I’m heading that way. If there’s movement I need to know about, ring me. Otherwise, let’s regroup and see who shows their hand first.” I hang up, drop my phone into my shirt pocket, before turning around.
“I don’t know what that was all about, and right now I don’t give a fuck.” Silas rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward—open, but not weak. “We’ll deal with that later. For now, let’s agree this is a fucking mess. I’m in. Whatever you need.”
His gaze holds mine. “You’ve always had my back. Time I return the favor.”
I nod, giving him the floor.
“All I ask is that you let me handle my father. Whatever he’s hiding, that ends now.
I don’t care that he’s the captain.” He picks up the brooch and flips it lightly in the air.
“I want to hear it from him. There’s no way he doesn’t know who gave Sofia this.
And if it’s what I think it is…” He leaves that hanging in the air.
Lowering into my chair, I consider that. He’s taken in a lot tonight, heard enough to know things aren’t what they seem. There’s still a fuckload of shit I’ve not shared, nor do I plan to.
The documents I found in Rico’s office hint at a hidden truth, fueling my suspicions. If I were in Silas’s shoes, I’d want to be the one to confront the man hiding it. Especially if it involved someone I once cared about.
“We have a deal. But you don’t get in my way where Isabel’s concerned.” I lean forward slightly, my gaze dropping to the brooch. “No matter what you learn. Understand?”
His eyes stay on the brooch, a flash of fury cutting across his face before he pushes to his feet and heads for the door. “Get your arse up and let’s go. You too, Cort. Don’t make me wait.”