Page 110 of Lethal Threat

She waves a dismissive hand as she retreats down the hallway. A moment later, she returns with a handful of cash and a pistol in the waist of her yoga pants. She passes me the money and an empty tan paper envelope. “Here, this should help.”

I’m astounded. “You just keep wads of money in your apartment?”

“And a gun or two. Survivalist training, babe. Do you want a pistol?”

“Do you think I should?”

She just raises a well maintained eyebrow at me.

I grimace, but worry that I should take it. “I don’t like guns.”

“Taser?”

“Uh… Yes.”

She pulls a small taser from the back of her yoga tights. “It’s easy to use.” She talks me through the controls.

Warmth fills me. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Just be ready, I’ll call in a favor one day.”

I hug her again, wishing I’d have had more time to get to know Rachel before. “Anything at all. I’m your girl.”

When she lets me go, she presses the post-it note in my hand. “Call Max, now. Don’t take chances. Let people who deal with these kinds of thugs help you.”

“I’ll think about it.” I should want help, but that feelsscary too. Shoving the money and taser in my backpack, I thank Rachel again.

“Car’s around the back of the building. And be sure to enjoy the Barry Manilow CD…”

I make an exaggerated face. “I think I might need some heavy metal instead.”

She laughs as I close the door.

Chapter Thirty-Five

COLE

Thank God. We finally made it.

Before the rented Expedition comes to a stop, my feet are on the ground. Taking the stairs two at a time to Sierra’s apartment, I say a silent prayer over and over.

Please let her be here.

But the door’s standing open. The first bad omen.

The second—her belongings are tossed all over the place.

Third—the door’s security chain has been cut.

A yell tears from my chest. “Sierra!”

The apartment is eerily quiet. The whir of the air cleaner on the kitchen counter is the only sound.

Heavy footsteps echo in the stairwell behind me as the team rushes up to the apartment. My heart’s pounding in my ears as I move through the small apartment, looking for anything that might tell me she’s okay.

Marshall shoulders his way into the bedroom behind me, his pistol drawn, but held low. Simona follows us in.

I want to roar. Break shit. Tear the world apart. “Son of a bitch. We’re too late.”