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What was taking so long? One of my men made the grave error of telling me that no news was good news, and I just about took his head off for the trite and useless words. No news meant Emerson was still in danger. Was still getting further and further away.

Then Bogdan came out, pale and looking even older than his actual years. The few strands of pure white hair on his head stood straight up as if he’d been anxiously running his hands through it.

“What?” I choked, stricken by his expression.

He shook his head. “We’re still working. We’re not giving up. We found the car Arkadi took Emerson away in.”

“But that’s good news. Why do you look like there’s no more vodka left in the world?”

“He met up with someone and changed cars. We were able to track the one he got into, but lost it due to a power outage on a stretch of road near—”

“Find it again,” I bellowed.

He tried to patiently explain his team was doing just that; it was only a matter of time. Time was my enemy, and at the moment, so was my faithful employee Bogdan. In order to keep from doing something I might regret, I stomped to the kitchen and slammed more coffee.

Even the taste made me think of Emerson, and I was on the breaking point as more time ticked by. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest, and everything I cared about was crashing down around me. My whole world was up in the air, and all I could do was wait.

Another message came through on my phone, and I tore it from my pocket. I had ordered everyone to only update me on my personal number if it had to do with Emerson. Any more news about further destruction could go through my second in command.

It was another message from Arkadi, and I read over it several times in confusion. First, because it was littered with typos and was only a series of locations. Was this a ruse to scatter my people further, or was he trying to lure me into a trap? And what was with the weird word at the end?

I showed it to the guard who had haplessly tried to comfort me, and he screwed up his brow as he read it out loud.

“I think it’s meant to say hurry,” he told me.

“That might mean Emerson sent the message,” I said.

He nodded, then shrugged. “It might account for all the mistakes if she was incapacitated in some way.”

I winced, but incapacitated meant still alive. This was the thinnest strand of hope I’d ever clung to, but I held on with all my might. Shoving all emotion aside, I called for my second in command to get in touch with Ivan, who had only left a little while ago, though it felt like an eternity.

“Send him to this first location and get teams to the others right away,” I ordered.

Without another word, I got in my car and sped to the first location in the message. It had to be the most important. Even if this was a trap, I was sick and tired of standing around doing nothing when my wife needed me.

I put Ivan on Bluetooth and told him where I was, and within twenty minutes, I recognized his car sliding into the sparse traffic behind me. We’d determined the location was one of our warehouses, and he let me know he had men heading there from all directions. At the very least, we might be able to stop another explosion. I didn’t give a single shit about that, just wanted to find Emerson.

And make Arkadi feel the pain I’d been experiencing since he took her from me.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said, glancing in the rearview mirror at my brother’s car. “Look at that black sedan up ahead.”

Thankfully, at that hour of the night, there were only a few lonely cars on that desolate stretch of highway with us, and I was able to maneuver around the one in front of me to get close enough to see if we’d finally gotten a bit of luck.

“That’s the car Bog described them getting into,” I said.

Throwing caution to the wind, I got right up on his ass and saw my woman’s beautiful mane of hair peeking out from the front seat. My heart soared. She was alive. She had to be. There was no way that asshole was sick enough to prop up her body and drive around with it. Was he?

“Come up on my left,” I told Ivan. “We can box him in.”

“Be careful,” he warned. “Is Emerson in the car?”

“Yes, but not for long.”

I meant to run him off the road as soon as Ivan corralled him in, but then Arkadi must have recognized it was me in his rearview mirror. I watched with mounting rage as he reached over and shoved the side of Emerson’s head. She turned, and he lashed out at her again, sending her down and out of sight as he increased his speed. The rage gave way to relief, because this was proof she really was alive. My heart could keep beating.

And beat it did, as adrenaline surged through my veins and my foot jammed on the gas pedal. Ivan stayed close behind me, waiting for an opportunity to get past me to overtake Arkadi. We’d done this sort of thing at least a dozen times before, and normally, I was all in for a good, high-speed chase. But this one was different. Someone I cared about was in the car I was chasing.

Someone I loved.

It was a harrowing few miles until he made the decision to take an exit, sending gravel flying and nearly spinning out as he hit the surface street at a screaming hundred miles per hour. I could see Emerson’s hand as she reached for the grip bar above her head, flopping back and forth like a rag doll as Arkadi made yet another turn.

“I hope you’re buckled up, Sweetheart,” I muttered.

“I am,” Ivan answered, still connected via Bluetooth.

There was no time to laugh because now that there were no other cars around, it was time to take my chance. I put the pedal to the floor and caught up to Arkadi until there was barely a foot between our cars. My brother knew what I was about to attempt and hung back. Beginning to overtake them on the driver’s side, I got parallel to the back tire and performed a nifty stunt an ex-cop friend had shown me.

Gently tapping the back end of Arkadi’s car, I held my breath as he lost control, and it went into a graceful spin. A moment later, I watched Emerson’s shocked and frightened face as she slid past me in the opposite direction, and their car crashed into the ditch on the side of the road.

Slamming on the brakes, I grabbed my gun and jumped out, racing toward Arkadi’s side. Immediately, I could see that the airbags had deployed, which meant they’d had a pretty rough landing. He’d done this to Emerson. He’d put her through that fear and pain. He had to pay.

Arkadi was stunned, just pulling his head from the rapidly deflating airbag. I smashed through his window and pressed my gun to the side of his skull, my finger itching to pull the trigger. As soon as he turned enough to look me in the eyes as I ended him, I pulled.

And nothing happened. What a goddamn terrible time for my gun to lock up. Nothing but a useless click. Regaining his wits, Arkadi reached for something on his other side, but I didn’t give him the time to grab anything. I bashed him over the head with my not completely useless weapon, hitting him again until he slumped forward, out cold.

Emerson. The white-hot rage snuffed out into cold fear as I looked across Arkadi to the passenger seat.

“Emerson, baby, talk to me,” I growled, freezing in place at the sight of her.

She was still and pale, wedged against the door behind the airbag, blood trickling from her nose and mouth. She didn’t answer. She wasn’t moving at all.