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Boone was going to enjoy shooting this asshole right in the dick. He was going to make more noise than he’d like to take down a door this thick. Scanning the hallway again to make sure he was still alone, the steady blink of a small red light in the upper corner of the roof access caught his eye.

Shit. He’d missed a camera. How had he not noticed it? It was pointed right at him. If there were any guards paying attention, they knew he was there even if the guards on the beach hadn’t alerted them.

His fury was a living monster inside him that fought to escape. The injustice of it was palpable. Midnight was within his grasp.

Even when it sucks, you have to do what you have to do.

It was a mantra he lived by. He’d taught it to all the men on his team. He couldn’t walk away from the woman trapped inside that room. If he did, he’d be no better than Midnight.

But that man needed to be put down like the rabid dog he was. Not just for Cara but for all the other women he and his men had harmed. Women like the one behind that door.

The whirring blades above him slowed.

Taking out Midnight was the right call. So why could he hear Cara’s voice calling him out in his head?

“You can’t leave her there, and you know it. You know what will happen if you do. She won’t last until you make it back.”

He tried telling himself ending Midnight was all for Cara, but was it? Or was it so he could finally get past the guilt he’d carried for three years? She’d died because of him. He’d been right there and hadn’t been able to do a damn thing.

Cara would never have walked away from someone in harm’s way for the sake of revenge. Never. And she would be furious if he used her as the excuse for doing it himself.

His men would understand. He had to put the woman he could still protect before the one he couldn’t. The woman’s sobs grew increasingly frantic.

“For you, Cara,” he said and went to work.

Fighting the urge to blow the door to splinters, he worked the problem. The door was expensive and made from sturdy mahogany. That ruled out throwing his weight against it and crashing through. It would be impossible. So, how would he get in?

Scuffling and thumping noises increased his urgency.

“No!” the girl inside screamed. “Stop! STOP!”

Out of time, he went for the simplest solution. He pounded on the door.

Now, only sobs came from the room. Boone waited. He had to get out of this hallway before someone found him standing there.

After scanning up and down the hallway again, he beat on the door once more, harder this time. He replaced his Glock with the largest of his knives and pressed it to the door. With gritted teeth, he pounded again.

“I left clear instructions to wait in the dining room. I’m not to be disturbed.” Moretti snatched the door open, yelling in that damn fake accent. The man had been born in Chicago and never even visited Italy, as far as Boone knew. “I hope this was important because you are about to die.”

Moretti was still zipping his pants, so he didn’t realize who he was talking to until he finished and looked up. He stood there, speechless, staring at Boone.

Just as well. Boone buried his combat knife in the man’s throat before he could utter a sound.

The commander staggered backward, which was as much of an invitation to enter as the man was able to give. Boone stepped into the room, grabbed Moretti, and lowered the rasping manto the floor as he gagged and scratched at the knife. Boone watched, booted foot planted on Moretti’s chest.

“You okay?” he called to the shocked girl staring at him. He took a minute to look her over.

Cuts and bruises covered her body, along with scattered burn marks that had obviously come from the high powered cattle prod leaning against the wall. That son of a bitch had tortured her with a stun wand carrying enough voltage to knock an elephant on its ass. If Moretti used that, it was a miracle he hadn’t killed her.

Boone grabbed the cattle prod and pressed it to the metal blade of the knife lodged in Moretti’s throat. The man stiffened for the five seconds Boone held it there and then went limp forever.

Boone checked the hallway once more before closing and locking the door. Turning back to the room, he scanned the area for possible escape options. He’d come through the only door, and the window was barely big enough for the girl to fit through. If he made it through that opening, it would be a miracle.

The girl huddled on a filthy mattress, staring at him in wonder. It took everything inside him not to return the stare. Her wavy hair barely reached her shoulders. And it was bubblegum pink. How she kept it that way in a place like this, he had no idea.

But it was her eyes that drew him in. Her eyes were huge and the most incredible blue, almost purple, like the mountain bluebonnets back home in Wyoming. He could lose himself forever in those eyes.

And he was pulling the brake cord on that train of thought right now. He had no business getting lost in anyone’s eyes right now, much less a young woman who’d just been through what this girl had. He turned on his heel and retrieved his knife fromMoretti’s throat, wiping off the blood on the dead man’s shirt as the girl stared at him.