Page 109 of Claim Me

“Bet me.”

With Mikhail in the passenger seat, I flew through the streets of Seattle. “I need to speak with Detective Ryan Torres.”

“May I ask who’s calling?” the operator on the other end asked. There was angst in her voice. My hackles immediately raised.

“A friend.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t provide you with a connection unless you tell me who you are.”

Something was wrong. All the operators did was to connect a caller through, usually to the detective’s voicemail. “I’ll call back another time.”

“What the hell was that?” Mikhail asked.

“My gut tells me our detective has been considered collateral damage.” I took the exit leading me to the man’s house. I knew exactly what Popov was capable of. By the time I made the final turn, I was going in excess of ninety miles per hour. Just let a cop try to stop me. At this point nothing else mattered but getting her back.

The tires squealed as I pulled to a stop. On the outside of the detective’s house, nothing appeared wrong, although there were no visible cars. Given it was late at night, it was likely no one was awake. We moved silently toward the garage. Finding the side door open, I threw a look toward Mikhail.

We both had our weapons in our hands, listening for any sounds. Only the sound of crickets broke the silence.

Very slowly I opened the door, easing inside. There was a single car in the garage. With careful steps, I headed toward the door leading into the house. Finding it unlocked, I moved into the kitchen.

A light was on over the stove.

Without making a sound, we moved through the house. Another warm glow could be seen coming from down the hall. Mikhail moved to another section of the house while I headed in the direction of the light.

As soon as I moved into the living room, I noticed a lamp had been overturned, smashed on the floor. Moving closer, Iscanned the room. There were obvious signs of a struggle, a dark substance on the floor. Crouching down, I brushed my fingers across the spot, pulling them to my face.

The stench of blood was still strong. As I rubbed my fingertips together, I calculated the blood was at least three hours old, already coagulated. A I stood, I looked around the room. There was a computer on the floor, crushed as if stomped by a heavy boot.

Mikhail walked in seconds later. “A struggle.”

I nodded toward the stairs. While I’d wanted to kill Torres myself, my beef had nothing to do with his family. We’d both seen this before more than once, families caught in the crossfire of a dispute or act of retaliation. A solid reason to keep my distance from Marissa. Another horrible reminder of what had happened to Jasmine.

The anger remained just under the surface, the need for revenge even stronger than I’d experienced with Jasmine. In both cases, what happened to them was my fault.

I took the stairs two at a time, carefully opening the closed doors to two children’s rooms, breathing a sigh of relief in finding no one.

“It appears someone took a trip,” Mikhail said from behind me seconds later. “Clothes are missing, drawers in the master bedroom still open and half empty.”

Exhaling, I nodded. Perhaps Torres had been smart and had taken his family away, yet the bloodstain nagged at me. There was one other place to look.

When I was downstairs, I moved to the back door, throwing it open, but unable to see anything. Seconds later, I noticed a light switch and flicked it on. Lights reflected exactly what had happened to Detective Torres.

The water in the pool was tainted red. I walked closer, peering into the deep end.

He’d been shackled with cement blocks, but not before he’d been brutalized.

Sighing, I shoved my weapon into my jacket pocket.

“Popov is eliminating loose ends as expected,” Mikhail said from beside me. “He’s not going to stop here. You know that.”

“I don’t give a shit who he eliminates in his stable of traitors, Mikhail. All I care about is finding Marissa. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

Before he could say anything, my phone rang.

“Ryker. What do you have?”

“We heard a few guys bragging her kidnapping was easy,” Ryker answered, half laughing. “We followed them. They’re in a warehouse near the port.”