Page 45

“T his is bullshit.” Ethan paced on the grass while Michael ascended the stairs to his apartment. Heat spread through him like fire had from his house. His gut twisted and his hands clenched into fists as he brushed past Nate, climbed the porch steps, and flung the door to Riley’s house open.

The property next door was crawling with firefighters, they’d cut off the gas connection so the area was no longer a threat.

Nate came in behind him and closed the door. His hand curled around Ethan’s elbow. “We need to get a warrant. It’s tough without having any grounds other than your instinct and the fact that he’s her neighbor.”

Ethan twisted out of Nate’s hold. “It’s him, dude. I know it.”

“Look, I made the call—”

“And Riley could be fucking dead by the time you get the warrant. You know that as well as I do.”

The muscle in Nate’s jaw jumped. He let out a growl and paced the foyer. “Look, I’m bound by legalities—you know how that is. I won’t stop you from kicking his door in or beating the shit out of him, though.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. Urgency made the muscles in his back twitch. “You wouldn’t have stopped me anyway.”

Nate closed his eyes on a breath. “I get it, all right? It’s the middle of the day. Someone had to have seen something, so let the cops do their routine. Will you show me those damn bugs already?”

Ethan nodded and waved his hand behind him.

Nate followed.

“Don’t say anything else about Michael.” His voice dropped low as the floors squeaked beneath their feet. “There aren’t any bugs out here but there’s one in the kitchen and the others are in the bedroom.”

He didn’t need Michael getting more spooked than he was. As it stood, Ethan had already put Riley in danger by losing his cool.

They stepped into Riley’s bedroom and a chill in the air arced over his skin. “I feel so damn close to her in here,” he mumbled.

Nate immediately skulked around the room, his gaze focused on every nook and cranny.

Ethan jerked his head and pointed above the bed. Nate took three steps across the floor and stepped up onto the mattress to get a better view of the camera. He snorted and jumped down.

“That sick fuck,” he breathed.

Ethan raised his index finger to his lips. He moved past Nate and stopped at the end table where the audio bug sat on the lampshade. He plucked it off, and held it tightly in his palm. He left the room, dropped it into a drawer in the kitchen, and then returned to Riley’s bedroom.

“No need for him to hear everything we say,” Ethan said. His biceps flexed as his fingers fell to crack his knuckles.

“You got a switchblade?” He hopped up onto the bed, his gaze instantly found the small black lens.

“Course. You don’t?” He pulled one from his back pocket and passed it to Ethan.

He flicked the blade open, his fingers moved easily over the steel. “I don’t carry one as often as I should.”

He jabbed the blade into the ceiling, dust and plaster littered his face and sprinkled onto the bed. He peeled the chunks away until the cord from the camera was visible. He yanked it out of the ceiling and pulled it down. “Huh. It’s an old school cord?”

Ethan let the camera hang, drove his fist into the hole, and peeled down large sections of ceiling. “I need a flashlight.”

“I’m glad one of us is prepared.” Nate pulled his keys out and turned on the penlight that hung from the ring.

Ethan grunted and took the keys, and then shone it into the hole.

Bingo.

The cord disappeared in a small hole of the subfloor above—directly into Michael’s unit.

A cold sweat broke out at the back of his neck between his shoulder blades. The acid in his stomach curdled. He clenched his hand into a fist, and tossed the keys to Nate, nearly hitting him in the face.

“It’s connected to his unit.”

“Well that was easy. I’ll—”

“No need.” Ethan stormed passed Nate and down the hallway.

His footsteps pounded on the floors. He closed his hand over the door handle and flung it open. Nate called to him, but his words didn’t penetrate the rushing of blood through his head.

He’d kill him.

And there was nothing Nate or anyone could do to stop him.

He pulled his Glock from the waistband at his back as he charged up the wooden steps to Michael’s apartment two at a time.

Smoke still lingered in the air and the shouts from the working firemen fell around him.

He stopped in front of the door, took a step backward on the small landing, and stomped his foot into the wood.

It shot open with sickening ease. Splinters danced through the air and the door bounced on its hinges. Ethan stepped inside.

Michael came down the hall, his eyes sharp, and his face tense. “What the hell—”

Ethan concealed his Glock at the small of his back and sprinted across the room. Michael’s hands rose in the air and the blood drained from his face. He stumbled backward in an effort to escape.

Ethan fisted his hand into Michael’s shirt, lifted him off the ground, and slammed his back against the wall.

Michael’s eyes bugged out of his head. His hands clawed at Ethan’s wrists.

Ethan pulled him a few inches away from the wall, let him dangle in the air, and then banged him against the drywall.

Michael’s head flung back and the wall cracked above his head. He closed his eyes and grunted.

“I’m going to ask you this once before I tear your fucking lungs out. Where is she?” A deep calm settled through him. He had the bastard now and he’d beat the answers out of him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Don’t lie.” Ethan’s voice raised an octave.

The calm that had fallen around him shook. His fist tightened at Michael’s throat. He leaned closer so his nose hovered an inch away from Michael’s. “I found your cameras you dumb shit.”

“Look, I don’t know anything about any cameras. I’m a dentist and the furthest thing from tech savvy.”

“Then why are the cameras wired through your floor?”

“I don’t know, I swear. I’m not the only one who’s lived here. Check with the landlord if you don’t believe me.”

Ethan’s breath came out slow and even. His fury dipped. There was a possibility—a very small one—that he was telling the truth.

“Want to have a look around? I don’t care. I won’t ask for a warrant or anything.” Michael’s small, beady eyes never left his face. Ethan’s neck tensed.

He didn’t believe in coincidences. Michael had taken Riley and with the camera and bugs, they had enough proof to get a warrant. With that, they could pull his phone records including GPS locations and search his business.

He dropped Michael to his feet. Michael swallowed, took a deep breath, and his hand rubbed his throat.

“I want to help find Riley, believe me—”

“Save it.” Ethan brushed past him.

Nate whistled from the door. “Hope you don’t mind if I give him a hand.” A gun hung loosely in his fingers and his gaze swept around the floor.

Ethan nodded his appreciation at him and pulled his Glock out again.

“There’s no need for weapons.” Michael shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hand rubbed over the top of his short brown hair.

Yeah, right. There was no way in hell he was letting his guard down. Ethan lifted an eyebrow at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He moved away from Michael and stepped into the kitchen. He trailed his hand along the counter top. He glanced back at Michael, whose attention was riveted to Nate as he combed over the living room.

Ethan’s gaze fell to the floor. A long, sharp butcher knife lay on the linoleum. Warning bells screeched through his head. He forced his breath to slow, and bent down. He didn’t touch it.

“Drop a knife?”

Michael’s eyes snapped to Ethan, and then plummeted to the knife on the floor. “I must have…”

Ethan stood. “Right.” His voice hovered on hysteria and the muscles in his face tensed. Riley had been here. His senses tingled. He turned on his heel and stormed down the hallway.

“Riley!” he called. One bedroom sat at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. He shoved it open. The bed took up the center of the room, its neat dark blue bedding the only splash of color among the white walls and off-white carpet.

“Goddammit,” he breathed. She wasn’t here. He got down on his hands and knees and peered under the bed—nothing but a simple pair of slippers.

A soft whine sounded. His head shot up and his breath caught in his throat. He froze, his pulse drummed against his temples.

It sounded again. He got to his feet and pulled open the bi-fold closet door. A dog came out, swirling around his feet. He whined again. Ethan dropped to his knee and scratched him behind the ears. The long-haired chow huddled close to his leg.

“Hey, buddy. What were you doing in the closet?” Sad, big brown eyes stared up at him. His tongue came out to lick Ethan’s hand. “Can you tell me where she is, bud?” Ethan’s voice shook. His eyes burned and pain throbbed across his forehead.

The dog stood on all fours, shook his ears until Ethan stopped petting him, and whined again. Ethan frowned. He guided the dog away from the door with the back of his hand and leaned in. Dress shirts of various neutral colors lined the rod above his head, and dress slacks hung on the bottom row.

Nothing.

“Dammit.” He got to his feet.

“Anything?” Nate stuck his head through the open door. His gun held firmly in his hand, but lowered to his side.

Ethan got to his feet. Dread spiraled through him. He wiped his chin with his hand. “No. Just found this guy hiding in the closet.”

“I would be too if I had to live with that creep. We should go talk to the cops, I got some pictures of a few things but I’ll show you outside.” Nate gestured to the hallway. Ethan didn’t move.

“I want to have a word with him before we go.” He opened and closed his hand at his side, his other hand tightened on the trigger of his Glock.

Nate’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re going to fuck him up, aren’t you?”

“If you don’t want to watch—”

Nate snorted. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”