CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
QUINN
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Lying under the black sheet, I try to keep my breathing even and not move. I can hear the men’s voices from the house, and while it’s unlikely they can see me, I’m not risking it.
After what feels like an hour later it goes quiet. Not silent, but I can hear them inside the property, which I assume is residential. It has the hum of a street as opposed to industrial.
The drive from the BHS compound was less than ten minutes. Noah had said it was a local cartel, and he was right about the local part.
And the cartel part.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and unlock it, my heart pounding as the bright light fills my tiny space.
Shit, who do I call? I search for Black Hawke Security and find a 1-800 number. Will anyone answer?
I press dial.
Hi, you’ve reached...
I hang up.
Calling Noah is dangerous...oh, I could call Marlene.
I press dial.
“Quinn. Where are the fuck are you? I have Hayden here with me.” Her voice is stressed, so I figure the guards saw me when I risked popping my head up as we passed through gates.
Thank God.
“I’m in the back of the Hummer,” I whisper. “I don’t know where we are, but they have Noah inside. We stopped approximately ten minutes after leaving the compound.”
A man speaks, and I figure it’s Hayden on speaker. “Is he alive?”
“Yes. I felt his pulse.”
“Good. Fuck. Okay.” He says and I hear their footsteps. “Stay on the line if you can.”
“She’s on the line?” Josh growls half a minute later. “Quinn can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Where are you?” his voice is low, quickly working out my life is at risk while making the call.
“I haven’t looked.” I slowly move my leg to test the noise and see if it alerts anyone. It’s the only way I’m going to do this. I’m unarmed, after all. “Give me a minute.”
“Track her phone. Get on the system, and someone track her goddamn phone now,” Josh calls out. His voice is muffled so I figure he’s put his hand over the speaker.
I draw in a soft, wobbly breath.
Even if I get out of the Hummer, I still won’t know exactly where I am, so tracking my phone is the only accurate option.
“Quinn, stay there,” Josh instructs. “Are you armed?”
“No.”
“I want you to stay hidden, and we’ll be there as soon as we can. We have your coordinates.”
“Ten minutes,” I say, reminding them. “About ten minutes’ drive.”
“What else? What else have you heard or picked up?”
“Two men took him and I think I counted another four voices.”
“Keep going?”
I close my eyes. “It’s quiet. A quiet road. A dog just barked.”
“What else?”
I hear a bottle smash.
“Heard that,” Josh says, and the sound of a vehicle door slamming follows. “We’re on the way. Stay in the Hummer and stay low.
My eyes bulge, knowing the highly experienced special forces are coming for us, guns blazing.
“Hurry.”
The line goes dead, but my mind is on fire. I can’t just stay here. Noah needs me. I might be trained and know exactly what I should be doing, but there’s one thing the military doesn’t factor in when you leap into a stolen vehicle to protect someone you care about.
Feelings.
My feelings for Noah.
They could’ve killed him, and they might still kill him at any moment.
A cry catches in the back of my throat, and I smack my hand over my mouth. Noah.
What if he dies and I never get to tell him that I love him?