Page 81 of Craft Brew

Shit, he needed to find the light. Whomever was down here was likely traumatized and wouldn’t know if he were friend or foe. He’d have a better shot convincing them in the light.

He moved forward again, even as his mind whirred. Was it Erin down here? What he wouldn’t give to be able to give Cam his sister back, but like this? After being held hostage for twenty years? She would never be the same person, maybe never recover.

His left hand hit a table corner. He patted around for a lamp, and when he didn’t find one, reached farther back, hit the wall, and slid both hands along it until he found a switch.

He flipped it.

Under-cabinet UV lights clicked on one at a time, and when they reached the end of the row, they illuminated the young girl huddled on a thin, dingy mattress in the far corner.

Not Erin. But another lookalike.

Relief and sadness warred but only for a second before instinct kicked in.

He had to focus on the priority in front of him.

The girl cowered, trying to huddle even farther into the corner. Battered and beaten, the side of her face bruised, her clothes ripped and stained, her ankles and hands tied, a gag wedged between her lips, stretching her mouth and the bruises. That had to be killing her.

Lowering into a crouch, Nic drew her gaze and raised his hands, palms out. “I’m here to help.” He reached for the collar of his shirt and yanked it down, exposing his SEAL tattoo. “I’m a Navy SEAL captain,” he said, using one of Cam’s tricks and combining it with proof, the rank and emblem always seeming to assure people.

She relaxed a little, watching him closely.

“And my boyfriend is an FBI agent,” he added for good measure. “He’s on his way here.” Nic was sure of it. Cam would figure it out. He was the Bureau’s best at rescuing people.

Had already rescued him.

The girl twisted, letting her knees fall to the side.

“Can I help you?” he said. “I can take that gag out of your mouth. It can’t feel good.”

She eyed him another few seconds, then nodded.

He approached slowly, checking with her every step of the way until he was by her side. He held up his hands again for her to see, then moved them toward her face, carefully, no sudden movements, until he pulled free the gag.

She coughed and sputtered, working her jaw, wincing.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Emma.” He moved to untying her hands next, and she started to shake. “Am I gonna die?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“He keeps going back and forth. Saying he’s going to take me to the farm. Then saying he’s going to bury me in the back with her.”

Erin was here.

Oh God.

“I don’t know who her is,” Emma said. “But I don’t want to die like her.”

No, she didn’t, and Nic wouldn’t let that happen either. He finished untying her hands, wrapped the hoodie around her, then moved on to unbinding her ankles. “How long have you been down here, Emma?”

“Since yesterday.”

Which was why she hadn’t been reported as a missing person yet.

“I was cutting through the alley from the library,” she carried on between sniffles. “Ma says I shouldn’t, but I was late leaving, and?—”

“I’m sure she’ll just be glad to see you.”