Page 8 of Dangerous Affair (The Phoenix Three #2)

L iam hadn’t learned anything helpful from Quinn’s father. As far as Mr. Sullivan knew, she didn’t have a boyfriend, and no one was stalking her that he was aware of. Grayson had texted Liam the coordinates Quinn’s phone was pinging from. Hopefully, it was still with her.

Most people didn’t know that you didn’t have to have a tracker app on a phone to find it. He wouldn’t be able to locate the precise location of her phone without an app, but he would be able to narrow down his search to a few miles in either direction.

The coordinates took him to a rural area of spread-out dirt driveways and KEEP OUT signs posted at their entrances.

Unfortunately, whatever structures were at the end of those driveways were hidden by a thick forest of trees.

These were the kinds of places where a shotgun awaited any strangers daring to trespass.

He’d have to do reconnaissance when it got dark.

While he waited, he cruised around, watching for driveways with recent tire impressions.

There were five that showed signs of activity.

More than he wished for, but it could have been worse.

He had six hours before dark, so he returned to the small town of Hope Corner that he’d passed through earlier.

Not wanting to stay at Quinn’s motel and face Betta’s questions, he found another decent motel and a diner.

A few hours’ sleep and food in his belly, and he’d be good to go all night if necessary.

At midnight, when most people would be asleep, he did his reconnoitering.

He left his BMW SUV at the entrance of the driveways at each location and walked in.

The first three cabins were a bust. One was empty; at the second, a man with a white beard halfway down his chest sat on the porch smoking a pipe; and at the third, there were a half dozen junk cars in the yard, along with chickens and pigs.

The pigs almost outed him with their squeals when they picked up his scent, and he quickly retreated.

At the fourth place on his list, he turned off his car’s lights as he drove up the dirt lane, and as soon as he was no longer visible from the road, he pulled off the dirt driveway.

He grabbed his night-vision goggles and exited the car.

He made his way through the woods until he came to what looked like an abandoned small cabin.

It wasn’t abandoned, though. There was a green late model Toyota parked in front of it.

Not the kind of vehicle he’d seen at the other places.

The hair on the back of his neck tingled.

“This is it,” he murmured.

The forest was thick around the cabin, the trees shutting out any moonlight to light his way.

He slipped on the goggles, turning everything he was seeing green, yet distinct.

There weren’t any lights on, and no one was sitting on the porch smoking a pipe, no pigs waiting to squeal on him.

He crouched low and ran up to the back of the car. A rental.

“Found you.” The question, was she here willingly?

He didn’t believe so, but he wouldn’t go storming in to rescue her until he got the lay of the land.

On silent feet, he made a circle around the cabin, listening for voices as he searched for a window without a curtain blocking his view.

There wasn’t one, and there wasn’t any sound until he got to what he thought was the bathroom based on the small, high window.

The cabin was old, the walls were thin, and soft crying had him stopping.

That had to be Quinn. Even though she didn’t know he was listening to her cry, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her.

As much as he wanted to rush in and rescue her, she wasn’t alone.

Until he assessed the situation, and especially learned how much of a danger the man who’d taken her was and if he was armed, he couldn’t make a reckless move.

He pressed his palm to the wall. “I’m coming for you, sweetheart,” he softly said. He circled the cabin again. There was only one door, so just one way in and one way out. That was unfortunate. He eased onto the stoop and gently tried the doorknob. Not a surprise that it was locked.

Time for a plan. He wished he knew if the man who’d taken her was asleep or awake and if he was armed.

If asleep, Liam could easily take him by surprise.

If he was awake and had a weapon, different story.

That could put Quinn’s life in danger. On a special ops team, there was a lot of hurry up and wait, so the military had taught him patience.

He’d spent endless hours with his team while holed up near their target, waiting for go time.

As much as it went against his desire to storm in, he still needed intel, so he’d wait.

But not too long. He made his way to the back of the house again, stopping where he’d heard her crying.

All was quiet now. Unless he heard anything that told him she was being hurt, he’d wait for daylight.

If he was lucky, the man would come out without her, and Liam could take him by surprise.

As he stepped to the right, a board creaked.

He froze. What was that? He pushed the night goggles to the top of his head, then took his penlight from his pocket and shined it on the ground at his feet.

A thin slice of wood was visible through the pile of dead leaves.

He crouched down and brushed the leaves away.

“How about that,” he murmured at seeing it was a cellar door.

Even better, there was no lock on it. He eased it open.

His penlight revealed five steps leading down to a small root cellar.

With luck, there would be a door giving him entrance into the cabin.

He glanced at the sky before he descended.

The gray light of dawn was on the horizon, and the sun would be up soon.

The best option would be to sneak Quinn out of the cabin before her captor woke up…assuming the man was asleep. Since he hadn’t heard a male voice or footsteps walking around inside the cabin, he thought his chances of safely getting Quinn away were good. They needed to be gone before sunrise.

It was his lucky day. There was a door, and when he turned the knob, it opened.

On silent feet, he stepped inside the cabin.

Without any light to amplify, night-vision goggles might as well be a blindfold, so he left them off.

Loud snores greeted him. Excellent. The man was asleep, and since he was, Liam risked clicking on his penlight.

It was black as night in the cabin, and he didn’t want to stumble over something and make any noise that would wake him up.

He shined the light at the floor, but it was enough to make out a bed with a man in it.

Where was Quinn? She wasn’t in the bed, so she must still be in the bathroom.

A small kitchen with a cooler on the counter was to his right.

A ratty couch was the only other furniture in the room besides the bed. He took a few more steps into the room.

To his left, past the bed, was a closed door. That had to be the bathroom and where she was. The trick was going to be getting to her before she could scream at seeing a strange man. As he aimed for the door, his foot came down on something hard, and he looked down, frowning at what he saw.

Son of a bitch. Two heavy chains trailed along the floor, disappearing under the gap between the door and the floor. She was chained. His gaze followed the chains back to where they were locked to a hook in the wall. This complicated things.

As he quietly moved toward the bathroom, a SEAL saying he’d often heard from Grayson when things got complicated popped into his mind. The only easy day was yesterday. That was the damn truth.

When he reached the door, he paused. Should he try to talk to her before he opened it?

He needed her to be quiet and not wake up the snoring man.

Briefly, he considered returning to the bed and removing the threat of the man waking up by putting him out of commission.

Knocking him out with a hit to the head with the barrel of his gun would do it, but again, risky.

Sometimes, people didn’t react the way you wanted them to, and he liked the idea of the man waking up and finding his captive gone. Vanished into thin air.

He’d leave the man to his snoring. His best bet was to get to Quinn, free her from the chain, and get the hell gone. After she was safe, he’d get her to tell him her story, and then he’d do what needed to be done.