Page 29 of Protected from Malice (Blade and Arrow Shadow Team #1)

The next risky part is leaving the relative safety of the trees and darting across the small stretch of lawn.

We’ve already planned out the best route, using satellite images of the property, so it’s only a fifteen-foot dash to the rear wall of the house.

Crouching low, we hurry to it, then huddle below the sightline of the windows.

Indy puts his hand up in the hold position for a second.

We wait. And listen. But there’s no indication we’ve been seen. No extra lights clicking on inside or out. No alarmed voices. No sirens. Nothing.

In my ear, Tyler’s voice comes over the tiny comm unit.

He’s back at the hotel with Eden and Ace, but he remotely accessed the Wi-Fii for the house so he could check for security.

“Still nothing,” he reports. “Not even a video doorbell. The only thing you might have to worry about would be a magnetic motion sensor. But I doubt he has one hooked up to the door.”

“Good,” I murmur. “We’re about to breach.”

With a quick glance at me, Indy’s hand comes down.

We race to the back door, then stop again.

I move in front of Indy so I can pick the lock, making quick work of it. Then I carefully turn the knob and push the door open. Thankfully, the hinges are well-oiled, so we can enter the house silently.

Would Rickard hear the slight creak of the door all the way from the bedroom? Probably not. But I’ll take any bit of luck where I can get it.

From the kitchen, we work our way through the living room and up the stairs. Then down the hallway towards the primary bedroom, where a thin sliver of light glows from beneath the door. Once we reach it, I turn to Indy.

With his hood cinched around his face, all I can see are his eyes and nose. Determination narrows his gaze. He doesn’t have to say anything. I know what he’s thinking.

Do whatever it takes to protect Eden.

My Sig is a comfort in my hand as I hold it at low ready. Do I want to use it? No. Gunfire attracts attention, and that’s the last thing I want. But it’s a powerful tool for intimidation.

I jerk my chin at the door. Indy nods.

It’s time.

All my muscles tense.

Ice flows through my veins.

All my emotions—anger, worry, anticipation—fade into the background.

It’s time.

The door is slightly ajar, maybe an inch or so. Another bit of luck. This way he won’t be warned by the doorknob twisting.

Instead, I take a deep breath and shove the door open.

As I step into the bedroom, my gun raises to aim at the man sitting up in bed.

He’s holding his phone, of course, so the first thing I do is snarl, “Drop the fucking phone. Now . Or I’ll shoot you.”

His mouth drops open. His features jerk with shock. The phone jitters in his hand.

“ Now ,” I repeat, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. I cock the trigger, and judging from the horror washing across his face, he knows it.

Indy comes in behind me. He’s holding his Sig in his off hand, but his aim is steady. “Do what he says,” he echoes. “Or we’ll kill you right now.”

Rickard—and it’s definitely him, I can tell from the brush of overgrown eyebrows and the acne pocks all across his cheeks— tosses the phone onto the floor.

Then he raises his hands into the air. “Whatever you want, just take it.” His voice shakes.

“I have some money in my wallet. On the dresser. My laptop is in the office.”

I approach the fucker, keeping my head down but my gaze glued to him. “I don’t want your money. I want information.”

As I move to one side of the bed, Indy goes to the other. Rickard’s head swivels between us. His breath comes in quick, frightened gasps. A shudder runs through him.

“What…” He looks at me. “I don’t understand. What information?”

My gun trains on his forehead, and he makes a terrified sound. “You’re going to tell us about hiring a kidnapper,” I growl, “to abduct an innocent woman. How about starting with that?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never… You have the wrong guy. I wouldn’t?—”

“So it wasn’t your phone that was used to communicate with the kidnapper?”

“No—”

“Because we have good reason to believe it was.” My voice is cold. Unforgiving. Dangerous. “And you’re going to tell us everything .”

Defiance flares in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only have one phone, and it wasn’t used to hire a kidnapper, or whatever you’re talking about.”

But I can see his fear lurking behind the defiance.

I can see the truth hiding there.

It was him. I’d bet my life on it.

“We can do this the easy way,” I tell Rickard. “Or the hard way. This is your last chance.”

“I didn’t do anything.” His voice pitches up. “Just… Just leave. Please. I swear, I didn’t do what you’re saying. I wouldn’t arrange to have a woman kidnapped. That’s crazy .”

Except he did.

“Fine.” I holster my gun, and Rickard sags in relief. Over his head, I catch Indy’s eye. He nods, knowing what’s coming next.

“Oh, Chris.” My tone is almost pleasant. “I thought you might choose the easy way. But to tell you the truth, I’m glad you didn’t.”

Confusion clouds his gaze. “What?”

Lightning-fast, I clamp my gloved hand around his wrist. He gives a token struggle, but I tighten my hold until he yelps in pain. “You’re going to tell us the truth. And if it takes breaking every single one of your fingers to convince you…”

“What!” He jerks forward. “No! What is this! You can’t?—”

“Don’t fucking move,” Indy snaps. He jabs his gun into Rickard’s side.

Rickard whimpers. His eyes fill with tears. “Please,” he says desperately. “I didn’t do anything .”

Someone who hasn’t seen the worst of humanity might believe him.

Someone who doesn’t fully understand how evil men can lie so convincingly might be persuaded to let him go.

But I’ve seen. I know.

Which is why I don’t hesitate.

I cover his mouth with one hand. With the other, I wrench his pinkie finger back until it cracks.

He screams into my hand.

“Don’t scream,” I order. “And if you even think about biting me, I’ll have my friend shoot you.”

Rickard shakes his head. He mumbles something unintelligible.

“Are you going to tell me the truth now?”

Another shake of his head.

So I break another finger.

“Now?”

He shakes his head again.

So I break a third.

Now he’s sobbing. Trembling all over. A dark spot soaks the blanket above his lap.

“Now?” I ask, removing my hand from his mouth again.

“Fine,” he whimpers. “Fine. Just don’t… Please. Don’t kill me.”

I’m almost disappointed he folded so quickly.

But I’m not here to break all his fingers. I’m here for the truth. “Tell me. Start at the beginning and tell me everything .”

So he does.

And of course, we record all of it, making sure to disguise our own voices. Not that we could tell the police how we extracted his confession, but if it ends up in their hands anonymously? Well, they could consider it good fortune. A helping hand in solving the case.

Rickard starts with his first sighting of Eden, not in person, but on social media.

“She was a friend of a friend,” he explains weakly.

“And she was so pretty, I had to find out more about her. So I started looking for her online. All her accounts. Mentions on her company website. All her research.”

Almost dreamily, he adds, “She’s brilliant, you know. Beautiful and brilliant. And modest. She never brags about herself online. All she posts about are fundraisers for veterans. How could I not fall in love with her?”

“So you decided to stalk her?” I ask. “Terrify her?”

“I just wanted to see where she lived. Watch out for her. And I thought… if we ran into each other, I could introduce myself. Maybe ask her out.”

“But you didn’t stop there.” My voice is flat. A cold warning.

“I—” Rickard shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to. I’ll go to jail.”

This time I break two more of his fingers. “You’ll wish you were in jail,” I threaten. “But trust me, I can come after you there, too.”

And I can. Not directly, but I have plenty of contacts in the prison system. Contacts who could be convinced to arrange for an unfortunate accident to befall him.

Rickard clutches his injured hand to his chest. “You’re crazy!”

“No, I’m not. I know exactly what I’m doing. And if you don’t want more broken bones, you’ll keep talking.”

“Fine,” he blubbers. “Fine.”

From there, he tells us about the dawn of his idea to kidnap Eden. How he’d bring her to a little hunting cabin his family owns up north. Keep her locked up until she realized, in his words, that they were meant to be together .

He tearfully explains how he discovered the website on the dark web, and how it seemed like the perfect solution to his dilemma. “I thought about doing it myself, but if I could pay someone instead… it seemed safer.”

At that, I can’t contain my roar of rage. “Safer to hire a fucking killer to kidnap her? What if he took her for himself? What if he assaulted her? Hurt her? Killed her?”

The remaining color drains from his face. “I didn’t think about that,” he whispers. “I never wanted Eden to get hurt. I just wanted her for myself. She… she’d be relieved when I rescued her from the kidnapper. Grateful.”

Indy mutters a series of low curses. He doesn’t just look angry. He looks murderous.

“I want evidence,” I demand. “All of it.”

“No!” Rickard replies quickly. “No. I won’t—” He stops. Shudders. Swallows hard. “If I do, how do I know you won’t just kill me?”

“I won’t.” After a long pause, I add, “I want this over. I want Eden safe. So I give you my word, if you do what I ask, I won’t kill you.”

Now, at least.

But if he somehow gets off and comes after Eden again? Then I won’t hesitate to kill him.

Rickard glances at Indy. Then back at me. In a low, defeated tone, he asks, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want the phone you used,” I reply. “I want your laptop with all the photos I bet you have stored of Eden. I want to know about the hunting cabin. About your arrangement with your hired kidnapper.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay. I will.”

“That’s not all.”

I pull my gun from my holster again. “This part is very important. Are you ready?”

His eyes widen in fear. “What?”

“You’re going to confess. You’re going to call the police and turn yourself in.”

“No—”

“Yes. You’ll turn yourself in. If they ask about your broken bones, you’ll say you fell down the stairs. You won’t mention us at all. You’ll say you felt guilty. Turning yourself in like that, you’ll probably get a shorter sentence.”

Rickard whispers, “What if I tell them about you two?”

“They’ll never find us. But.” I pause. “I’ll find you. That’s a promise. And you won’t just end up with some broken bones next time.”

After a long silence, he lets out a shaky sigh. “Alright. I’ll do it. First thing in the morning.”

“No.” I bend down to scoop his phone from the floor. “You’re going to do it now. So we can hear you. You’re going to call and say you need to confess. That you want someone to come here right now to hear your confession.”

Indecision flickers in his eyes.

Then his gaze moves to my gun.

“Okay.” He holds out his uninjured hand. “I’ll do it.”

And five minutes later, the deed was done.

We stayed long enough to listen to the call, making sure he knew damn well it had better be done right.

Then I smashed his phone with the heel of my shoe, so he couldn’t make another call for help after we left.

As we exited his bedroom, I left him with my final instructions.

“You can get ice for your hand. But don’t think about running.

We’ll know. And if you do, you know what’ll happen, right? ”

Rickard gave me a miserable nod. “You’ll kill me. I know.”

On the way out, we grabbed his laptop and the burner phone he had hidden in the kitchen cabinet, just in case he got some crazy idea of trying to destroy the evidence.

It’ll get to the police tomorrow, once Tyler’s had a look at it.

Thanks to our connections through Blade and Arrow, it won’t be difficult to arrange for the laptop and phone to be delivered anonymously.

And if Rickard tries to backtrack on his confession? If he tries to make up some wild story about two intruders who broke into his house? Then I’ll make good on my promise.

Not ten minutes later, we’re back at the car. In the distance, sirens approach.

We all shed our sweatshirts before I pull out of the parking lot. I flick on the radio and turn it to a classic rock station. The guns are hidden in a special lockbox beneath the driver’s seat. We pop cans of energy drinks open and lean back in our seats.

We’re not burglars. Not mysterious intruders. We’re just three friends heading back to their hotel after a trip to visit Mt. Hood. We’ve even got the hiking gear in the trunk to prove it.

No one says a word until we’re back on the highway.

Finally, Indy asks, “Do you think he’ll do what we told him to?”

“I do,” I reply. “I think he’s too scared not to.”

“And we have his confession,” Webb adds. “Along with the phone and the laptop. With all of that… it has to be enough.”

I lift my chin in agreement. “We’ll find out soon. Tyler can hack into the police database. And if Rickard doesn’t?—”

“You won’t have to kill him,” Indy interrupts, “because I will.”