Chapter Thirty-Three
Gage
“Where would she go?” Anders asks, typing at my computer.
After Jill walked out, leaving me locked in my office and tied to the chair, I had to call for backup. Using my voice command on my phone on the desk, I called Anders in. He kicked the door down and cut me loose within fifteen minutes. But it’s not fast enough.
Devastating desperation has me in a chokehold as I rewatch the security footage of Jill exiting the building and climbing into an anonymous car. The camera doesn’t catch the license plate of the SUV before it disappears from view.
My body hurts—my wrists are raw and bloody from fighting against the zip ties, my chest hurts where the knife carved my flesh, and my head is pounding. But none of that registers past the soul-aching anguish that feels like all of my vital organs have been ripped out of me.
“Flights would be too obvious and unreliable,” Anders adds. I shake my head. She wouldn’t take her chances on a flight. Those are too easy to track, and she wouldn’t take the chance of a delay or cancellation. She would only leave with someone she trusts, and that list is very short. Especially now.
“Lana,” I say, standing from my chair and striding towards the door. “Lana left on a yacht this afternoon.”
“I’ll drive,” Anders says, matching my pace. The drive to the Marina breaks all traffic laws—running lights, speeding, and ignoring traffic signs. Anders doesn’t hesitate to drive his car down the boardwalk, only stopping when we run out of dock.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing? You can’t drive your car here!” There’s not a flicker of hesitation when I pull my gun and aim it at the whining middle-aged man standing in a boat to my left. His hands go up immediately, the words dying on his lips.
“We need your boat,” I demand, gesturing to his speedboat. “Now.” The man pales visibly, nodding and stumbling as he clammers out of the boat onto the dock.
“Tell anyone about this, and this entire clip will have your name on it.” I don’t bother disguising the vicious edge in my voice, and he nods numbly before stumbling away. Anders jumps down into the boat and revs the engine, and I’m right behind him. Anders doesn’t hesitate to whip the boat around the dock and steer into open waters.
“How do you know where we’re going?” I yell over the engine and wind.
“Let’s just say I’ve seen Christos’ anchorage plans.”
He’s been tracking Christos because of Lana. I could kiss my best friend right now. If there’s ever been a moment his obsessive tendencies paid off, it’s right fucking now.
Adrenaline courses through me until I’m shaking, my gut twisted in anticipation. I need to find Jill, I have to. There is no other option.
If not today, then tomorrow. Or the next day.
I won’t live without her. I can’t.
Fear tightens around my neck like a hangman’s noose, but I refuse to let it take me. I won’t lose her. I don’t care what it takes to get her back. If it means locking her up, kicking and screaming.
After slicing through the water for a good twenty minutes, we finally spot the yacht off in the distance. As we approach my body shakes with all of the emotions thundering through me. My grip on my gun adjusts and readjusts as I anticipate what will happen once we get there.
They’re expecting us. Four armed men stand on the main deck of the boat, their firearms trained on us. My gun is drawn before Anders even cuts the engine to pull his out. Christos walks closer to us while his three-man security team stays at the ready.
“You shouldn’t have come out here,” he calls.
“You know why I’m here,” I state darkly, my trigger finger itching. If I weren’t out-gunned I’d have already taken him out and climbed onboard to search the yacht by now.
“We knew you’d show up, so predictable.” A female voice says. Lana appears at Christos’ side, and his arm immediately wraps around her. The sight of the blonde has my heart rate spiking with hope.
“Where is she?” I demand.
“You’ll never see her again unless it’s from the business end of a Glock.” Lana spits, disdain written all over her face. “I’d shoot you myself if I could. But that would be an act of mercy. And you don’t deserve any mercy, just a long life of pain and suffering.”
“I’m not gonna ask you again.” My knuckles turn white from my grip on my gun. “Tell me where she is. Now.” My eyes scan the deck for any signs of Jill—flashes of her dark chocolate hair, one of her designer suitcases, a whiff of her cherry blossom perfume. Anything.
Nothing.
“She’s gone,” Lana states, flashing me a smile of contempt. “Suffer.” With that, she turns on her heel and walks back inside. She pauses next to Christos, placing her hand on his chest. “If he tries to board, shoot him.”
With one last withering glance over her shoulder at me and Anders, she disappears inside.
“Jill’s not here. And I’m not supposed to kill you, but if you try anything, my men won’t hesitate,” Christos bellows.
“Where is she?” I’ll ask the same question a million times until I have answers.
“Probably halfway across the country at fifty-thousand feet by now.” Christos’ laughed words have my stomach dropping. She’s on a fucking plane. “It’s really too bad, too. I was rooting for you two. Now get the fuck away from my boat.”