Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
GRACE
“Can you tell me your name?” I asked after her sobs dwindled into soft, shaky breaths. The tile floor was cold against my knees, but I didn’t move.
“Hannah,” she said, still weepy. “Hannah Torres.”
I held her bound hand between mine, repeating silently that she wasn’t the one who should have been tied up today. But she was the one caught in the middle of something bigger and uglier than she’d ever wanted to see.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re safe here.”
Her breath hitched again. “Mi familia… mis hijos… por favor…”
“Don’t worry,” I assured her in a soft voice. “No one is going to hurt your family. I promise.” Maybe I shouldn’t make that oath, but Bones gave me point and no one disagreed with me earlier. “I need to hear it from you… tell us what you’re afraid of.”
Her head tilted toward my voice, even though the blindfold hid us from her. “They will hurt my children,” she breathed. “If I talk. If I say anything wrong—”
“Who?” My voice didn’t shake, even though something deep inside me recoiled at the familiarity of that kind of fear.
“I don’t know their names,” she whispered. “But they come here. Not through the front door.” Her shoulders curled inward. “Never the front door.”
I glanced back at Alphabet, who gave me the smallest nod. Yes—okay that matched what we knew so far.
“Do they have a key?” I asked.
“No.” A breath. “There is a door. It was always locked before. Siempre. But after the Senora left…” Her voice tightened. “He told me not to go near it.”
I smoothed my thumb over the back of her hand. “Hannah, when you say the Senora, you mean Mrs. Sinclair?”
“Yes.” A soft choke. “She was kind. She… she helped me when my husband had his accident. She made sure we had insurance. She let me bring the children to the pool when she was home.” Her voice wavered, a thready mixture of grief and guilt.
“When she left on her trip, he said we couldn’t stay in the cottage anymore.
That I should only come twice a week and leave before dark. ”
Behind me, Bones shifted. A quiet, contained sound. Not approval.
“And you listened,” I said gently. “Because you’re doing what you need to do for your family.”
A tiny nod.
“I asked if we could stay,” she whispered. “I begged. But he said no. He said… I knew too much already.”
Every hair on my arms lifted.
Under the blindfold, tears leaked down her cheeks.
“So you stayed,” I said. “Even though you’re scared.”
“The money is good.” Her lips trembled around the admission.
“My husband cannot work now. His back… it is ruined. He cannot even lift our youngest without pain.” A wet sniff.
“We need the insurance, and Mrs. Sinclair arranged it so my insurance is paid out of my salary. The pay is still good, he didn’t cut it back even if he trimmed the number of days.
” She swallowed hard. “So I come. I do as I’m told. I clean. I stay where they allow me.”
“And barricade yourself in when you hear the men,” I murmured.
She gave a tiny, broken laugh. “Sí. I go to the laundry room. The closet locks from the inside. They do not look for me.”
God. I hated how well I understood that kind of survival.
“Hannah,” I said, inching closer, “have you ever considered quitting?”
“Every day.” The answer came out on a cracked breath. “But then I look at my husband, and my children, and I tell myself—manana. Tomorrow. I will quit tomorrow.”
“But now?” I asked gently.
Another tremor. “Now I think I must. He will know I was here when he comes back.”
“He won’t hurt you,” I said, and my voice stayed firm even though my throat tightened. “We won’t let him.”
I didn’t look at the men behind me, I didn’t have to. Not when absolute agreement radiated through the room like heat. They were not fans of bullies. They may not think of themselves as heroes and maybe they weren’t anything so prosaically labeled. Yet, they saved people.
That was more than enough for me.
I drew in a slow breath and asked the question that had been sitting like a stone in my stomach.
“Hannah… do you know where Mrs. Sinclair went?”
Silence. Heavy, terrible silence.
Her breath shuddered. Her fingers twitched in my hands.
“No debo decir… no debo…” I must not say.
“Hannah,” I whispered. “Please. I’m not asking you to betray her. Just tell me if she’s safe.”
Another silence, even longer this time. More agonizing.
Finally, so softly I almost didn’t hear it, she said, “I don’t think she is coming back.”
My heart lurched. “Why?”
She went rigid, as though she braced for a blow. “Because,” she whispered, “Mr. Sinclair did something. Something that made the wrong people very angry.”
Cold slid down my spine.
“What did he do?”
Her breath shook. “I don’t know. I only heard pieces. Shouting through the walls. The men… the ones who use the door that is not the front… they said he made a mistake.” She swallowed audibly. “A big one. And that they wanted their money back.”
My lungs squeezed tight.
“And Mrs. Sinclair?” I asked. “What does she have to do with it?”
Another pause, and this one was filled with dread. She swallowed hard. “She was supposed to come home,” Hannah whispered. “But she didn’t. And the men said…” Her voice cracked. “They said she was the collateral now.”
I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t.
Behind me, Bones said my name very quietly, like a warning and an anchor all at once.
But I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
I held Hannah’s shaking hand and asked the question that felt like swallowing glass.
“What happened to her, Hannah?”
She broke.
Collapsed inward like her spine had given way.
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I don’t know. But I think… I think they took her.”
My stomach bottomed out.
Because suddenly, it clicked—Sinclair was more than likely behind Amorette’s disappearance.
He was involved with these men. His absolute pallor when he saw me had already confirmed that.
But Hannah said he made a mistake and now these men had punished him.
Punished him by taking his wife… But was the mistake Amorette? Or was it me?
Ignacio had wanted me. That had been clear. Not Amorette. Still… Another woman was missing now, even as this one shook from fear in front of me. How many had these people hurt? How many more would they hurt?
Behind me, Bones shifted again. The movement was enough for Hannah to stiffen again, as though she felt the air change. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t loom, didn’t do anything threatening. He didn’t have to. Bones could project authority without lifting a damn finger.
“Hannah,” he said, calm and steady. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. Grace will stay right here with you.”
She nodded, trembling.
“Good,” he murmured, tone precise but not unkind. “First—how often do these other men come? The ones who use the hidden door.”
Hannah inhaled, shaky. “Sometimes once a week. Sometimes twice. Sometimes…” She flinched. “…sometimes every day. It depends.”
“On what?” Bones asked.
“I don’t know. I only know when I hear them. They walk heavy. They slam things. They speak fast—angry.” A little shiver ran through her. “When they come, I stay far away.”
“So no pattern you can track?” Bones pressed gently. “Weekends? Late nights? Early morning?”
She hesitated. “M-Mornings. Usually mornings. When they come at night, it is only two or three of them. But mornings…” Her breath quavered. “Mornings, I think there are many.”
Morning activity might mean business. Deliveries, exchanges, planning. Maybe. Nights could be cleanup. My stomach soured.
Bones’ voice cut through the rising haze. “Besides the door in the office—have you seen any other hidden doors? Panels? Locked rooms? Anything strange?”
Hannah shook her head immediately. “No. Only that one. But… but there is a room I am not allowed to clean. Always locked. He said he would handle it.”
“Which room?” Bones asked.
“Upstairs,” she whispered. “End of the hall. Across from the master bedroom. I have never been inside. Even the senora say that is his—space.”
Alphabet’s quiet curse was barely audible, but I heard it. Upstairs.
“Anything else?” Bones asked. “Anything you can think of that felt wrong or out of place? Anything Mrs. Sinclair said or did before she left?”
For the first time, Hannah’s trembling slowed. She lifted her head a fraction, blindfold shifting.
“She… she cried.”
My breath froze.
The guys behind me stilled—every one of them. Even Goblin, who had been sitting quietly next to me, seemed to freeze in place.
“Cried?” I asked softly. “When?”
“The night before she left.” Hannah’s voice broke on the words.
“She called someone on the phone. She said… she said she was scared. Then she told me she’d be back in a week.
” Her chin quivered. “But she didn’t take her big suitcase.
Only a small one. Like she didn’t want him to know she was going. ”
My pulse hammered.
“She left in the morning,” Hannah continued, voice shaking again. “He drove her to the airport. And when he came back… he was different.”
“How?” Bones asked quietly.
“He was… angry. Cold. Like he blamed me.” Hannah swallowed. “He told me never to ask about her again. Never. And then the men started coming. More and more.”
My mouth went dry.
Hannah hesitated, then whispered so faintly I almost missed it, “And one night… I heard them say she was a message.”
I flinched.
Hannah bowed her head. “A message to him. I don’t know for what, except that it must be bad. I only know she is gone.”
My hand tightened around hers, gently but firmly. “You did everything you could. You survived. You kept your family safe. You’re not responsible for what he did.”
She sobbed once, a small, broken sound.
Bones exhaled—a slow, controlled release. Not anger at her. Anger at the situation. At Sinclair. At Ignacio. At everyone who had touched this.
He crouched then—not close enough to scare her, but enough to get to her level. His voice softened by degree.
“Hannah, listen to me.”
She stilled.
“You’re going to be safe. We’re going to make sure of that. But I need one more thing from you.”
“A-anything,” she whispered.
“I am going to leave you with a phone number, I want you to memorize it but not put it in your phone. We’re going to untie you and let you go home, but you need to walk out to your car and go, just like you would any other day.
Don’t look back, don’t call anyone else, just go look after your family. ”
“Okay.” Disbelief strung between both syllables.
“If you think of something later—anything at all—you call that number and you leave us a message. Even if it feels small. Even if it feels unimportant.” He let a beat pass. “Sometimes the small things matter most.”
She nodded, tears dripping off her cheeks. “I will. I will try.”
“And Hannah?” Bones continued.
“Yes?”
“If anything happens and you need help, you call that number too.”
Shock seemed to still her tears. “But I am…”
“A good person.” His tone brooked no argument. There was no way not to believe him. “If you need help, you call. If you remember something, you call. Can you do that?”
“Si. Thank you.”
I squeezed her hands again, my throat thick. “You did good,” I murmured. “Really good.”
Behind me, Voodoo quietly added, “Damn good.”
Alphabet made a soft sound of agreement.
And Bones, the stubborn, intractable man, added, “You helped more than you know.”
Hannah broke again, but this time it wasn’t terror—it was relief. As she cried, leaning forward until her forehead touched my shoulder, I held her as Voodoo slipped around me to free her wrists. Then he touched my shoulder and motioned to the door. We needed to withdraw.
I gave her a tight hug. Then Bones set a slip of paper on her lap with the number.
“Count to thirty,” I told her. “Then take the blindfold off and go.”
“Senorita,” she said as I made it to the door. I glanced back at her and found her smoothing the piece of paper over and over, but she still wore the blindfold. “You are not the woman from the law office.”
“No,” I told her gently. “But I am here to find her.”
A pause. “I will pray for you both. I will pray for Mrs. Sinclair too.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, then slipped out with Goblin trotting quietly behind me. It didn’t take her long at all to leave. She didn’t look back, not once. I watched as her car pulled down the long drive, then glanced at them. We still had Ignacio to deal with.
“Is she going to be all right?”
“I don’t know, Dollface.” Bones didn’t sugarcoat it—he never did. “But she’s safer now than she was this morning. We’ll keep eyes on her, and the farther she is from this place, the better.”
“I’ve got a lock on her phone and her address,” Alphabet added from behind me. “I pinged a couple of guys I know. They’ll keep a quiet perimeter on her and the family for a few days. Just in case Sinclair’s friends get stupid.”
My chest loosened. Just a fraction, but enough. I crossed to Alphabet and rose onto my toes to kiss him—quick, soft, an exhale of gratitude against his lips.
“Thank you.”
He flashed that crooked grin of his. “Ma’am, I am but a humble employee following orders.”
Voodoo barked a laugh. “Sure, Romeo. Okay, we’ve got, what? Maybe thirty minutes before Lunchbox bags our boy like it’s Garbage Day.” He glanced toward the ceiling. “So. Trash upstairs. Time to take it out?”
Three sets of eyes landed on me.
My stomach dipped. “I don’t think I can take the lead on this one.”
Alphabet laced his fingers through mine and tugged me a little closer. “You don’t have to. Not even a little. Let Bones and Voodoo dismantle him. They’ll consider it an afternoon hobby.”
That absolutely should not have made a warm, molten swell curl in my chest, but there it was anyway.
“What will you be doing?” I asked.
He squeezed my hand. “Cuddling you and eating popcorn, obviously. Multitasking genius right here.”
It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And yet—
I laughed.
God, I actually laughed. After everything. It spilled out of me sharp and bright and shaky, but it was real.
“Okay,” I said, drawing a steadying breath. “Let’s get this party started.”