Page 52

Wavering slightly, my eyes pop open. It’s already getting harder to breathe in here and I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded.Shit.Fear claws at me, but I push it down.
Hurry, Knox!
Chapter Seventeen: Knox
Every part of my being is completely focused on getting to Hunter and making sure she’s okay. The idea that Torres might have hurt her shrouds my vision with a red haze. Even though she’s tough, and that’s one of the things I admire about her, Alejandro Torres is a shit human being, and I don’t want my sparrow anywhere near him. I have a feeling he’d take great pleasure in clipping her lovely wings.
I’m practically jumping out of my skin on the ride over, and after what feels like forever, we arrive at the mansion’s entrance. Our plan is fluid, not completely solid, but at this point, there isn’t time to dick around and run through every possible scenario.
We’re relying on our experience and guts to get this job done.
To save my girl.
Because she is mine. Maybe she doesn’t realize it quite yet, but she will when I pull her into my arms and kiss the holy hell out of her. I’m not letting her go. If she runs back to California, then I’m going, too. There’s something special between us, and I’m going to make her see it.
I’m jumping out of the car before Brighton comes to a complete stop. Normally, I’m the cool, confident one, but rightnow I’m strung tight and doubt threatens to pull me under. I have the most terrible feeling that Hunter’s time is running out and she needs menow.
“Be careful and I’ll see you soon,” Brighton says.
While Brighton goes to park the SUV along the back wall of hedges and wait for Ryland and Saint, we walk up to the front door which immediately opens. Two hefty-looking men with guns stand on either side of Alejandro Torres.
“Check them,” he orders.
The guards step forward, pat each of us down and confiscate our weapons. We expected this. They miss my knife, still secure in my boot, so that’s good.
“Where’s Hunter?” I demand as we step inside the foyer.
“Where’s my emerald?” Torres fires back.
Addie pulls the emerald from her pocket and lifts it. Sunlight streaming in through a window reflects off its facets, making it sparkle, and I notice a matching gleam—pure avariciousness—appear in Torres’ eyes. When he reaches for it, Addie moves it out of his range.
“Where is Hunter?” I grit out again, my patience razor thin.
“I’ll need to verify its authenticity first,” Torres says. “Follow me.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” Addie replies easily, “but it’s the real deal.”
We go into a nearby room where a man waits beside a desk with a refractometer. Ryder has one, too, and I know the small black machine can identify a fake gem fast. He extends a hand, taking the gem and lifts a jeweler’s loupe to his eye. While theexpert inspects the emerald, Torres keenly focused on him, we launch into subtle, clandestine action.
Ryder turns, using me and Linc for cover, and pulls out the fake emerald hidden down his shorts—what can I say? It’s a great place to hide a gem the size of your fist—and discreetly passes it to Addie, who scrunches her nose, palming it. They accomplish the move so fast, so smoothly, literally between eye blinks, that neither Torres nor the gem expert notice.
“Well?” Torres asks impatiently.
“It looks to be real, but I need to examine it under the refractometer to make sure,” he responds. While he fiddles with it under the machine’s lens, we exchange looks.
My patience is just about gone.
“It’s in the range for natural emeralds,” the expert confirms.
“Wonderful.” Torres takes the emerald back, slipping it into his pocket, and sending us a satisfied, smug smile. “I’m going to put this in a safe place before we conclude our business.”
I move into Torres’ path, blocking him, and take a threatening step closer, balling my fists. Pretending I’m on the verge of hitting him. Or, at least considering it. The coward jerks back, moving closer to Addie. Just like we want.
“Make it fast,” I hiss between clenched teeth.
Torres’ nostrils flare in anger. “What’s the hurry,amigo? There’s absolutely no rush, so relax.”
The insidious way his mouth curls up tells me one very important thing—we should be in a big fucking hurry.