Page 20

CHAPTER 20

S ephie’s blood ran cold. She was in a utility van, her back to the wall opposite the side door, where her captor sat. Through the front windshield, she could see they were heading south on I-5. She drew her knees in tight to her chest. Her back throbbed. There was a high-pitched ringing in her ears, and a headache from hell made her forehead scream.

But she didn’t take her gaze off the menacing man near the door. His face was turned toward the front window. A gun sat comfortably in his right hand.

They hadn’t tied her up. Not yet anyway. Part of her wanted to lunge at him. To yank open the door and spill them both onto the interstate. But she didn’t dare. He’d likely put a bullet in her faster than she could throw him outside.

No, splattering herself on the highway wasn’t a great idea. She needed to do something else. She scanned the floor of the vehicle. Not much there. Her guess was they’d stolen the van. A rolled-up, musty-smelling rug sat between her and the jerk who’d grabbed her.

Other than that, there was only a toolbox, near the back door. Adrenaline made her want to try to leap for the back, but she’d be faced with the same options: bullet in the back of the head or concrete through her face. Neither were appealing.

“Don’t speed, dammit,” the man with the gun hollered. “Last thing we need is to draw attention.” His tone rang with disdain. Slowly, he turned toward her, and his pale-blue eyes stared at her blankly. “Finally got you away from your dumb soldier.”

Sephie fisted her hands. “What do you want?” Her throat was raw and achy. Dust from the explosion still sat in her airways.

“I don’t want anything.” He shrugged. “Just doin’ my job.”

“You’re protecting a pervert.”

His mouth ticked at the corner. “I don’t care what people do on their own time as long as I get paid for my work.”

“Raymond will take you down with him, you know that?”

He snorted. “These people don’t get caught.”

“They do when there’s evidence.”

His mouth stretched into a one-sided grin. The left side of his face, including his eye, drooped a little. Had he been injured somehow? “If that was true, they would’ve gone down by now.”

They wouldn’t keep her alive. She didn’t have long. If there hadn’t been witnesses on the street, they probably would’ve shot her right on the sidewalk.

Sweat dampened the back of her neck. Her racing pulse beat ferociously against her eardrums. She swallowed, struggling for calm. If she let herself get hysterical, she’d end up dead before she could form a solid plan.

The image of Taschen lying on the pavement struck her, making her stomach acid churn. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. He’d been close to the bomb. Not only that, but his body had acted like a shield, blocking the immediate debris and blast from hitting her.

Which meant he’d taken a hard hit. Tears flooded her eyes. Oh, Taschen. Please don’t die because of me. You’ve brought so much goodness to my life in such a short time. She followed the plea with a prayer.

If Taschen was alive, he’d find her. Sure, Brick and Rami had likely survived the explosion, but if Taschen was seriously injured—she couldn’t bring herself to think of anything worse—he would be their priority. Not her.

Backcountry might come for her, they might not.

She couldn’t fight off two men, but maybe she could talk her way out of this. “You don’t want to do this,” she said. “The company whose vehicle you just blew up is the best in the country.”

She’d witnessed Backcountry’s excellence herself. Plus, Yvette had done extensive research and had assured her that they were the best bodyguard company on the east coast. “They’ll find me,” she continued. “And if you kill me, they’ll make you sorry.”

He laughed. The sound was loud and abrasive. If the driver had overheard her, he didn’t comment or react. “Who said anything about killing you, dollface?” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a vial and a syringe.

The acrid taste of desperation hit her tongue. She leapt toward the rear door. He pounced onto her back, and his weight pressed her chest into the floor of the vehicle. A scream bellowed from her lungs.

She kicked and bucked, but his solid form didn’t allow her to move. He bore down on her shoulder blades and put his lips next to her ear. “You brought this on yourself. Those bitches should’ve been the last loose ends, but you had to run your big fucking mouth. If it were up to me, I’d open your throat just like that hag’s.”

Sephie wailed. Not for herself, but for her dear friend.

“Too bad Raymond has other plans for you.”

Confusion raced through her. “What? Why—”

He popped off the cap covering the needle. The little plastic piece danced across the metal floor. “See you later.”

“No!”

The sharp tip of the needle plunged into the side of her neck. Her body went still. Fear paralyzed her muscles. She gasped as the drug flooded her in seconds.

Her gaze stayed frozen to the floor near her face. The uneven metal blurred and sounds fell away. She was falling, her body slipping deeper and deeper, until she was one with the floor. Taschen’s smiling face filled her mind’s eye. Warm tears touched her cheeks, but she forced herself to focus on the image of his face. The glint in his hazel hues, the chiseled line of his jaw.

She thought of the strong comfort of his arms and let herself fall deeper. She imagined landing in his embrace.

Her eyes slammed shut.

***

Taschen stormed off the elevator and through Backcountry’s waiting room with Rami and Brick on his heels. Pearl leapt to her feet, her eyes weary and sad. Surely her mind was on the fact that he’d just about been blown up, but that wasn’t even a fraction of what ailed him.

Weight crushed his throat. He couldn’t deal with sympathy right now. All he wanted was for a team of alpha assholes to put boots on the ground and bring Sephie home.

Pearl didn’t hug him, but he suspected she would’ve if he hadn’t had a storm cloud brewing over his head.

“Taschen’s fine,” Brick said to Pearl. “Just got a knock to the head to make him even prettier.” Normally the jeer would’ve irritated him, but he knew the comment was meant to ease some of Pearl’s anxiety, so he let it slide.

“Oh, dear. I can’t believe this happened.”

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

“I’m so sorry about Sephie. Don’t worry. Ghost and Toth are in the back, hot on that dead man’s ass.”

Hearing Pearl curse almost brought a smile to his lips. “Thanks, Pearl. I’ll go see them.” He steered himself down the hall toward Ghost’s office. Without knocking, he entered the dark space.

Two brown leather chairs, one of which was occupied by Toth, faced the black wrought iron desk with a glass top, which held Ghost’s computer monitors, his phone, and a mug of coffee. The charcoal-colored walls screamed “fuck off.”

Ghost shifted his gaze away from his computer. Cold gray eyes looked at Taschen with disinterest. With his shirt sleeves pushed up to reveal his tattoos and a heavy gold ring on his right hand, he looked about ready to knock someone out. As long as that someone was Raymond Schaffer, Taschen was gung ho.

“Have a seat man.” Toth gestured to the empty chair beside him.

Pity hung in his boss’s eyes. But Taschen should be fired, not pitied. “I don’t know how it happened. It just... so fucking fast,” he muttered, as he dropped into the leather seat.

Toth’s face was somber. His beard needed a trim. He probably wasn’t getting much sleep with a three-month-old baby at home. He surely didn’t need this kind of work crisis right now.

“I’m not worried about how it happened. You’re a damn good bodyguard. This shit happens to the best of us.”

Taschen gave a brisk nod. Part of him was grateful they wouldn’t be wasting time with the third degree right now. “I appreciate that. We just need to find her.”

“If you two are done kissing ass, I can tell you what I’ve got.”

Taschen leaned forward. “Go.”

“I obtained footage from the camera system of the bank across the street. The other businesses’ cameras were too damn smoky, but this one offered a good angle of the blast.” He turned his computer monitor and pointed at the screen. “Right here,” he said. A clip played. “Van pulls up, waits. Guy gets out, comes back, and see.” He pointed to the man returning to the frame with a woman over his shoulder. “There she is. ”

Taschen’s pulse nearly split his veins as he watched Sephie get loaded into the back of the van with that cocksucker. He bunched his hands into fists. As furious as he was, if he didn’t pull his shit together, he wouldn’t get to murder the bastards who took her—and he’d be too late to stop them from hurting her.

Which he couldn’t allow.

Forcing a breath into his restricted lungs, he ignored Brick and Ghost’s discussion, pinching the bridge of his nose while he went through what had happened after Jack left. Something was missing. A key piece. They could have killed her on the sidewalk but hadn’t... Why?

Sure, it’d have been messy. And with Pippa and Yvette both dying in the last week, there was no way a third would look like a coincidence. Raymond might keep Sephie alive, or at least be more cautious about her death, to avoid scrutiny.

The other thing he couldn’t forget was Jack. He’d gotten away fast but—

“Is he still with us?” Ghost’s dry comment made Taschen drop his hand with annoyance.

Toth watched him with concern. “Brick said your head was hit. You need something?”

He had a headache the size of Texas. Nothing short of morphine would help, and he sure as shit wasn’t taking that, even if August had some in his medic bag.

“I’ll get ibuprofen,” Brick said, from the doorway .

Taschen didn’t turn around, knowing the movement would only make his head hurt more. He glared at Ghost. “I’m listening. You got anything besides a replay of what I just watched?”

“Like I told Toth, I just spotted them arriving at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.”

“Shit,” Rami said, from somewhere behind him.

Toth got up and paced the room.

Taschen’s stomach tightened. “How do you know that?”

“I followed their vehicle through various street cameras. Once I had a hunch about their direction, I hacked into airport surveillance. See for yourself.” He clicked on his keyboard then nodded at the screen.

Sure enough, there was the van, on the tarmac about fifty feet from what appeared to be a private plane. “Don’t they have to go through fucking security?” Taschen spat.

“Different security protocols for private jets. I’m sure whoever did their check has done numerous ones for Raymond Schaffer. Or got paid a pretty penny.”

Taschen studied the video. One bastard got out of the driver’s seat and spoke to the pilot. A minute later, the side door of the van opened and the tall, built guy who’d taken her from the café carried her toward the stairs of the aircraft.

The vantage point of the camera wasn’t perfect, and it didn’t offer a close-up. Nonetheless, the way Sephie lay motionless in the monster’s arms, her right arm dangling loosely—it told a clear story.

His lungs tightened. “She’s unconscious.” He couldn’t bring himself to think she might be dead. No way. They wouldn’t take a dead body onto a plane. If she were dead, they’d have tossed her body. That tidbit of knowledge did little to slow the ferocious storm of worry happening inside him.

“How do we find out where the plane’s going?” Brick barked, holding out a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water.

Taschen accepted the items. The pills wouldn’t do shit for what plagued him, but oh well. He needed something. He downed several.

“Flight plan,” Toth said, before Ghost could speak. “Every aircraft needs to post its flight plan. Air traffic is publicly accessible.” He pulled out a tablet. “What’s the flight number?” he asked Ghost.

Ghost sighed and leaned in close to the screen. “Tail number on the plane is A7279. That should be the flight number.”

Toth leaned toward Taschen. “Look.” The screen showed a map dotted with little yellow planes. “All you gotta do is hover over the flight and it’ll tell you the departure location, destination, and arrival time.” He brought the cursor to the small icon of a plane.

“Is that the one she’s on? ”

“Yup. See where it’s going?”

“LAX,” Taschen blurted. “Raymond is having her brought to him.” Holy fuck. Why?

“Rami, get us a chartered flight leaving ASAP,” Toth ordered.

“On it.” His phone to his ear, Rami strode out of the room.

“What about guns?” Taschen asked. “How’re we gonna get ’em there?” There wasn’t much point flying if they were going to land empty-handed.

“Backcountry’s cleared as a security company. We won’t have an issue taking weapons on a private flight.”

With a little hope restored, he got to his feet. “So who’s coming?”

Brick raised his hand.

Toth stood. “Me. I’m sure Rami and August are in too. Zain’s on another job.”

“What about you, asshat?” Brick asked Ghost.

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unchanged. “I’m down. But it might be a good idea to keep someone in the office to access our software.”

He made a good point. While a lot of their systems were portable, some of their software were best used through their company servers.

Toth nodded. “I’d prefer to have someone here. Especially if August or Zain needs backup for something.”

Ghost leaned back in his chair. “Fine with me. I’ll stay.”

“How long’s the flight?” Taschen asked.

Toth tapped the screen of his tablet. “Two hours and fifty minutes.”

Thankfully each employee had a locker at work. They were required to keep a minimum of two days’ worth of clothes, necessities, and cash on the premises. That way, they never had to run home to pack a bag in situations such as this. Still, by the time Taschen and the others got to the airport, Raymond’s men would have a good two hours on them. Maybe more.

Fuck, he hated they’d have that much time with her. Anxiety brought him to his feet. He couldn’t sit there another minute. If there was a way to get to LAX before Raymond’s plane landed, he’d sell his right arm to do it.

Rami strode back into Ghost’s office. “Grab your shit and let’s move out. A jet will be fueled up and ready to go in sixty minutes.” He winked at Taschen. “Let’s go make those bastards suffer.”

Relief washed over him. Not just because they had a plane and a solid team. But also because every man standing next to him would readily empty a clip in the assholes who had her.

If that wasn’t brotherhood, he didn’t know what was.

He’d thank them later. Locating the flight Sephie was on was one thing. Finding out where they were taking her would be another.