Page 140 of These White Lies

I love you, Brady.

I love you.

I love you.

I repeat it silently like a lifeline. Like if I say it enough, he’ll hear me through the walls. Even if I don’t walk out of here.

The guard grasps the next finger, and the room tilts. My breath catches, darkness edging my vision.

It wins for a while,but when something acrid is waved under my nose, I come unwillingly back.

There’s a deep throbbing ache radiating from the left side of my face, down into my jaw and temple. My split lip stings with every shallow breath as blood mixes with saliva and pools in the corner of my mouth, gagging me.

My ribs hurt from the taser, and my shoulders scream for relief from the angle my arms are tied behind me. My hands tingle, and I’m almost grateful that the zip ties are so tight they’ve cut off most of the circulation to my hands so the pain isn’t as bad.

“Sleeping on the job, Miss Gowan?” Anna’s voice, is amused. “That’s rude. Am I boring you?”

I force my chin up a few inches. She’s still pristine, still sipping her wine.

A sound rattles out of me, half gasp, half growl. Hot tears spill down my cheeks without my consent. Tears of rage and frustration.

She smiles. “See?” She glances at the man still standing near the wall. “I told you we’d get somewhere quickly.”

Turning back to me, her face hardens. “Where is the necklace, Elizabeth?”

I shake my head. Brady will come. I know it.

“You’re only prolonging the inevitable,” she says, sounding annoyed.

The man steps forward again.

“No,” I whisper, knowing it won’t matter.

He crouches beside me and grabs my hand again. I know what’s coming.

“Please—” White-hot pain rips up my arm, and I scream, the sound tearing from my throat raw and broken.

But even as my vision hazes at the edges again, I cling to the one thing I know is true.

Brady will come.

40

BRADY

Seth is still moaning when we throw him into the surveillance van. Rhodes shoves him to the floor, yanks his wrists tighter with a fresh zip-tie, and stuffs a gag in his mouth.

I climb in and drop onto the seat above him. The van door slams shut behind me. “Sit tight.” My voice is steady, but I want to crush his skull against the floor. “One noise, and I’ll break your jaw.”

He believes me. Good.

Finn is already behind the wheel. Rhodes takes shotgun, phone pressed tight to his ear as he calls in two of our other operatives, but I have no intention of waiting for them. My sister and Vincent jump in our black SUV parked nearby. Both vehicles peel out, heading northwest, into the dark residential roads that cut through the city’s richest neighborhoods.

I check my gun and then take the spare magazines Rhodes hands me from the front seat without a word, stuffing them into my pockets.

The van is silent. The tension is so thick I can feel it filling my lungs.

I’ve trained for this, executed more than a few raids.