Page 115

Nash

Today

"The tracker's beenstationary for over thirty minutes," Mac says on the other end of the line as I stare up at the warehouse where our tracker indicates the bastard has Pops. "I'm sending a few boys out there to check it out. Maybe she's scared and doesn't want to go through with it."

Right. He has no idea how wrong he is if that's even a real thought. The Fate I know climbs out of windows to meet danger head on for a shot at saving the people she loves.

A glance to Drake, who's inspecting the clip of his sidearm, and I sigh into the phone. "She won't be there." Drake snaps his clip into place and looks up, brows raised. "But I do know where she is."

The anger and resentment in his tone after I rattle off the directions to the warehouse make me cringe. He does care for her, there's no doubt about that, but Drake was right in not telling them the full plan. More ways for this to go wrong the more bodies involved. Me, Drake, Pops and this dipshit are enough to worry about for now. Add in a team of overzealous FBI agents and this could turn into a firefight quick, with Pops caught in the middle.

Plus I'm not the one who made this personal. He did, the coward up there holding a defenseless woman hostage, captive really. Hopefully the bargaining chip she gave me holds him off from hurting her before we move in.

Speaking of....

"Ready?" I say and toss the phone to the seat. "Let's do this."

"Leave your damn emotions in the truck, Snowflake. No mistakes up there." With that line of encouragement, he opens the driver door and steps out into the early morning darkness.

Guns drawn, we jog down the sidewalk toward the warehouse where the blinking dot indicates Pops is held. Of course it's the largest one on the entire block.

Hand on Drake’s shoulder, I pull him to a halt. "It’ll take too long to search this entire place together," I whisper. "We need to split up."

A nod and he fades into the shadows to secure the perimeter.

Wow, that was easy. I really thought he'd give some kind of push back.

Each second feels like an eternity as I clear each corner, every shadow. After the first floor, I move to the stairwell. Something hard clatters a floor or two above me, echoing through the desolate space. I creep up the concrete steps to the next floor and pause outside the door, looking through the long glass pane for movement.

A scream snaps my attention up another floor, sending me bounding up the stairs. I don’t care about giving away my location, only finding the source. I quickly check through the glass before inching the door open. It’s almost closed when it's yanked back open. Swiveling around, gun drawn, I glare at the person now at my back.

Wide-eyed, Matt stares down the barrel of my Glock, hands inching up toward the air in surrender. Drake steps into the doorway, shouldering past the scared-shitless FBI agent.

"Found him waiting outside. Mac called him, told him to get here fast. We heard the scream. You think this level?"

I nod, give a warning glare to Matt and turn to the open third floor. The three of us move in unison, protecting the others’ back as we secure the area. The last half of the space is sectioned off for offices of sorts.

I put my fist in the air, and both men hold at my back and listen.

Voices. Angry ones.

We step through a door and down the long hall, clearing each room before moving on. The voices grow louder, a male and female, as we close in. Peering around the third to last office, I hesitate. I should step back, duck to cover and form a plan, but I can't. Arms up, I move around the corner to face the man who's holding a gun to the love of my life’s head.

"Easy there, buddy," I say as I step farther into the room, hoping for a better angle. To make sure she's not hurt, to shoot him—I don't know, but I can't stop my feet. "Let's talk about this before you go and do—"

I stop when I see the body on the floor beside them, dark glimmering shadows pooled beneath it. "Ah shit, man, you already did the something stupid. Well I guess that's the second stupid thing, considering your first offense was taking my girl. Now I have to kill you. No hard feelings."

Through the bits of morning sun pouring through the dirty window, his wide eyes, trembling gun and sweaty brow give away his true terror. He knows he's done for, but I can't have him take Pops out with him.

"Shut the fuck up and stop coming closer." For emphasis, he presses the gun, with a silencer—wonder how he got his hands on one of those—harder against Pops’s disheveled pink hair. But her gaze doesn't falter from mine. "I'll kill her."

"Then I'll kill you, so it looks like we're in a pickle."

"A pickle? A fucking pickle? My life is ruined because this dumbass bitch wouldn't fucking stop. It wasn’t my fault her sister was so damn gullible. Believe me, if I hadn’t found her, someone else would have. All I want is to disappear again. Make her tell me what gave me away, how she found me, and I’ll let her go. He wanted her dead not me. He’s the one who—”

His scream of pain bounces off the plaster walls, almost drowning out the gun blast. The gun at her head falls for him to grip his side. Before it hits the ground, Pops is safely tucked behind me.

Matt steps from the side door that opens to the adjoining office.