Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Roman came to, and a soft groan met his ears.
Belatedly, he realized it had come from him.
The ground beneath him felt hard and rough, and his head ached like a bitch.
Bracing his hands on the brick patio, he levered himself up and pushed to his knees.
He gingerly touched the back of his head and found his fingers sticky with blood when he pulled them away. What had happened?
His mind felt foggy, still in a daze, and he lifted his eyes to the small bungalow. He remembered that he and Irina had gone for a walk after dinner. He had told her to go back inside while he grabbed the towels and stuff they’d left out earlier in the day. She’d stepped into the house, and then…
Someone must’ve sneaked up on him in the dark.
They’d obviously hit him hard enough to draw blood and apparently knock him out.
He’d hoped it was for only a few seconds, but he couldn’t tell.
Focusing on his surroundings, he lurched to his feet and took an unsteady step toward the house.
What he heard from inside made his blood run cold. Voices—plural.
Shaking off the pain, he launched himself toward the patio door and threw it open. “Irina?”
His frantic question was met with no response, and he quickly took in the destruction of the room. One of the dining chairs was kicked over, and the end table next to the couch had been toppled, the lamp shattered in a dozen pieces on the tile floor.
From outside, a car engine started, and he bolted toward the front door. “Irina!”
He flung it open and stumbled out just in time to see the red of the tail lights fading into the dark as it rounded the turn.
He yanked the phone from his back pocket.
Not bothering with 911, he called the chief of police.
As soon as he answered, Roman launched in with no preamble.
“My name is Roman Incardona, and someone just abducted Irina Sterling from the rental we’ve been staying in. We can’t let her off this island.”
He knew Knox had been in contact with the local police in case the worst happened, and he prayed that they would respond quickly.
Chief Rutland swore softly. “How long ago?”
“Just now.” Roman started to rake one hand through his hair, then grimaced at the pain and dropped it back to his side. “They were in a small sedan, maybe a Honda or Toyota.”
“Let me get the bridges shut down, and I’ll call you back. Is this a good number?”
“Yes,” he replied tersely.
The chief didn’t respond as he hung up, presumably to dispatch patrolmen to lock down the island. Roman tapped the first number on his speed dial, then waited for Knox to answer.
“What’s up, Ink?”
“He’s got her,” Roman said, his voice breaking as a strange emotion strangled his throat. “The bastard knocked me out and took her.”
Perpetually calm, Knox jumped right into protocol. “Have you been in contact with the police?”
“Just hung up with them.”
“Good.”
“I’ll reach out to Phelps over here and see what’s going on with Adam Sorenson.”
“Thanks—Wait! Her phone!” Roman didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Probably because his mind was still muddled from the blow to his head. “She had her phone on her tonight.”
“Is it still on?”
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t help the sudden spark of hope that filled his chest. “We went for a walk on the beach right before this all happened, and I know it was on then because she was taking pictures. If it’s still on her…”
“Might be a long shot, but I’ll see if Taylor can work some magic.”
Aiden Taylor was a tech wizard Knox had managed to snatch up when the man left the FBI field office in Chicago a few months ago. Roman prayed that the signal was active and that he would be able to trace her whereabouts—at least in the general vicinity. Anything was better than nothing.
He hung up feeling slightly more optimistic than he had a few minutes ago, and he stomped toward the kitchen.
Grabbing a handful of paper towels from the holder, he slapped them against the back of his head.
The flow of blood from the wound seemed to have slowed, but he was still feeling light-headed.
He strode through the house, trying to stay away from the scene of the struggle as much as possible while still taking in every detail.
He couldn’t believe he’d let this happen.
It was the second time Irina had been hurt on his watch, and he berated himself for not catching it sooner.
Memories of that most recent letter came back to him, and his gut twisted with dread.
If the man got her alone, made it past the police, he could take her anywhere secluded to carry out his awful plan.
He should’ve been paying attention out by the pool; he should’ve heard the guy coming. Instead, he’d been so wrapped up in thoughts of Irina that he hadn’t been able to focus on anything else.
He gave his head a rueful shake. He would never forgive himself if they didn’t bring her back safely.
She’d come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time, but he still sometimes had difficulty reconciling his emotions.
What he did know was that he couldn’t let her go.
He had to find her. The alternative was not an option.
He didn’t know exactly what had transpired when she’d entered the house, but he assumed that the man had knocked him out, then gone after Irina.
Would she have had time to change? He made for the bedroom and flipped on the light, his gaze sweeping over the room.
The bed was still unmade, the covers flipped back and the pillows askew from their romp that afternoon.
His heart clenched, but he forced himself to focus.
He didn’t see her phone anywhere—not on the bed, not on the nightstand or dresser.
He found her purse on the floor and rooted through it but came up empty.
He hoped that meant she’d still had it on her when she was abducted.
If they could even get one triangulation, a hint of where they were headed…
His phone rang, tearing him from his thoughts, and he answered without looking at the screen. “Yeah?”
Chief Rutland’s voice came across the line. “I’ve got checkpoints at both bridges, and a third on the main road headed to Longboat Key. If they haven’t made it out yet, they’re not going to.”
Relief and dread mingled in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “What do we do now?” He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit around and wait.
“I’m almost to your place now,” Rutland replied. “We’ll talk in person.”
Almost as soon as he hung up, the sound of a car engine registered, and it slowed to a stop in front of the house, then cut off. Roman threw open the door just as Rutland was climbing out of the cruiser. He tipped his head toward the living room. “Come on in.”
Rutland’s gaze flicked over him, still holding the paper towels to his head, before dropping to the battered furniture strewn over the living room.
He skirted the damage and headed toward the kitchen.
Roman followed just a step behind him, and Rutland searched for a light switch, then flipped it on and turned to him. “You hurt?”
Roman pulled the towels away from his head and made a face at the blood he found there. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Head wounds tend to bleed like a bitch anyway.”
Rutland’s lips pressed together in a firm line as he made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn.” Roman tossed the towels on the counter and did as he was asked. Rutland made a low humming sound in the back of his throat. “Might need stitches for that one.”
Roman threw a scowl over his shoulder at him. “I’m not going to waste time in some hospital getting stitches while my girl is gone.”
Rutland inspected him shrewdly. “Tell me what happened.”
Roman heaved a breath and told him everything he could remember.
“I was still out on the patio when Irina went inside. I was locking the cabinet on the side of the house when someone must’ve snuck up on me and bashed me in the back of the head.
The next thing I remember was waking up and hearing voices from inside.
By the time I made it into the house, they were already getting in the car. ”
He told Rutland what she’d been wearing and his speculations about her phone. “She might still have it on her. One of our guys is working on tracing it if it’s still active.”
Rutland was already pulling his phone from his back pocket. He relayed the information Roman had just imparted, then requested a medic be sent to the house. Roman slanted a look at him. “Tell me what I can do.”
Not bothering with false hope or worthless platitudes, Rutland gave a slight shake of his head. “Give it some time. My guys are checking every car leaving the island and watching for anything that looks suspicious.”
Roman growled low in his throat. “That doesn’t really help.”
“There’s no magic formula to these,” Rutland replied.
He was a straight shooter, Roman would give him that. Although he knew Rutland was telling the truth, he hated the answer. His girl was out there somewhere—and he would tear this island apart to find her if he had to.