Page 122 of Romancing His Heart

“I know. I went by yesterday.”

My head flies up to meet his eyes. “What?”

“I knew you’d need an update before we go in tomorrow, so I dropped by.”

“H-How is she?” I croak.

“She’s lost a lot of weight, but she was up and showered and …”

“What?” I bark.

“She was trying to bake. By the looks of it, she’s been trying—a lot.”

A smile forces its way out, even through my pain. “Coffee cake?”

“Ah, if you want to call it that.” He chuckles.

“She’s determined. That’s a good sign.”

A loud beeping interrupts us, and Ashton pulls out his phone.

“Fuck,” he yells. “Luca isn’t responding. Neither is Seth.”

“What? Responding to what? They’re on surveillance today,” I say, rising from my seat.

“They have both missed the last two check-ins,” Ashton barks as he rounds my desk. Shoving me out of the way, he opens the computer and pulls up our footage from the cameras on the construction van Seth and Luca are in.

Frozen to my spot, I somehow know Mikhailov has them. My family, my brothers, are in the hands of a murderer. Thoughts of Nadja and Sadie flood my memory until I feel dizzy.

“Fuck me,” Ashton whispers.

Glancing down, I see the video feed. A large truck sideswiping the van, followed by eight armed men surrounding it. The cameras cut out when bullets pierce them. The last thing we see is someone dragging Seth from the van. It’s impossible to tell if he is unconscious or dead.

Ashton drags the trash can out from under the desk and heaves. My stomach is in knots, too, but a burning rage fuels my desire for vengeance more. Every muscle in my body strains against my skin, and I have to forcefully control the tremors attempting to make their way through my body.

The buzzer to the security gate rings, and Ashton flips the cameras to my front entrance. A UPS worker stands tearfully at the gate.

What the fuck?

Pulling my gun from its holster, I bolt out of the house at a dead run.

With my gun aimed, I scream, “What do you want?”

“I-I … Listen, I-I don’t know what’s going on. This is the second time I’ve had a gun pulled on me in the last twenty minutes. They threatened to kill my wife and kids if I didn’t deliver this by 3:10. Please, man. Just, just take the damn thing. I’m running out of time.”

Jesus Christ.

Taking tentative steps, I hear Ash running down the drive behind me.

The UPS worker throws the package at me. “What is your name?”

His eyes are shifty, and I think he’s about to wet himself.

“Buddy, I’m a United States Select Intelligence Agent. Those men that pulled a gun on you are extremely dangerous. Give me your name so I can send someone to your home to keep your family safe.” I reach into my pocket, and pull out my wallet that contains my badge. Stepping forward, I show it to him. “Ash? Get his name, address, and locations of all family members, and then have Ryan get someone on them.”

The poor civilian is shaking and on the verge of passing out, but he listens and starts talking to Ash. I turn and head back to the house.

Opening the envelope, I steel myself for what’s likely inside. A picture falls out first—Seth, bound to a chair with a gun to his head. He’s been roughed up and has blood all over his face. The pounding in my ears intensifies as adrenaline courses through my veins.