Page 16

CHAPTER 15

S tar held Ethan’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk, Thor leading them with purposeful determination. The dog had scored half her steak and a good portion of Ethan’s. The apology was accepted. Thank goodness it was a beautiful night so they could eat in the outdoor area of Wagner’s restaurant, where dogs were welcomed. It was obvious by the wait staff’s attitude that Thor was a regular.

The dog's tail went wild as soon as the coffee shop came into view, thumping against Ethan’s leg like a metronome set to overdrive. Star laughed at the aggressive way Thor pulled Ethan toward the entrance. "He didn’t do that to me today."

Ethan reached for the door while simultaneously trying to be a gentleman and let her in first—except Thor had other plans. The dog yanked him forward, dragging him toward the counter as if his life depended on getting his pup cup now .

Star chuckled, grabbing the door herself. "I got it. Go on, let the poor dog get his fix."

Bianca was behind the counter as usual, her eyes twinkling as she watched the chaos unfold. "A second pup cup today?" She smiled. "Come on in. There’s a table open for you two."

She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to Ethan. "Did Star tell you I have a dessert I wanted you to try out?"

Ethan nodded as he took the pup cup Bianca had already filled and handed it to Thor. "Yes, thank you very much. We didn’t have dessert at Wagner’s, so we could come down here and have coffee and whatever delicious concoction you’re about to spring on us."

Bianca clapped her hands. "Wonderful! I’ll get your usual coffees and then bring out the dessert. Have a seat, have a seat!" She waved them toward the only table left open in the small café.

Star slid into a chair as Ethan wrangled Thor and his pup cup to the table. The moment they were settled, Thor attacked his whipped cream treat with single-minded devotion.

Star shook her head. "He doesn’t act that way with me."

Ethan chuckled. "That’s because he knows he has to protect you. With me, he sometimes thinks I’m his butler or pain in his tail." He scratched behind Thor’s ears. "He’s got a mind of his own when it comes to his whipped cream."

Ethan extended his hand across the table, and Star laced her fingers with his.

"I had a lovely dinner, by the way. If I didn’t say thank you …" She smiled softly. "Thank you." His phone beeped, and he glanced at it. “Do you need to go?” Star was already moving to get up, but Ethan stared at his watch before he shook his head.

“No, someone else is taking care of it.” He looked back up at her and smiled.

Star frowned. “You didn’t tell me you had a staff.”

“I don’t. A friend is watching the systems so I can have a night with you.”

“And the urgent beeps?”

“Looks like someone is attacking one of the systems we watch. It is a semi-permanent situation. They try, we defend, block, and eliminate.”

“So, you’re business partners?”

“In the loosest sense of the word. We cross over and do favors for each other.”

“Oh.” Star had no idea how that worked, but it wasn’t her business, and he could run his however he chose.

Ethan lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of hers. "After this dessert, we’ll get to the really good stuff."

Heat rushed to Star’s cheeks, and she glanced around, ensuring no one had overheard because they weren’t the only ones in the shop.

Ethan smirked and winked at her. "Relax. No one heard me."

She ducked her head, fiddling with his fingers. "I’m just not used to being flirted with. The intimacy is … difficult for me sometimes."

Ethan kissed her hand again. "It shouldn’t be. Not with me."

She lifted her eyes to his. "Oh, no. I don’t have a problem with you . I really like the intimacy with you. It’s … sharing what I like so much with others. The thought that someone could overhear something personal—that’s what’s hard for me."

Bianca emerged from the back with their coffees. "I’ll be back in about two shakes of Thor’s tail with your dessert."

At the mention of his name, Thor wagged his tail twice quickly.

Bianca laughed. "Okay, well, maybe a little longer than that." She disappeared back into the kitchen.

Star took a sip of her coffee. As always, it was perfect . Bianca had grown up in Italy and knew what real coffee was. And according to every Italian she’d ever met in New York, Italians made the best coffee in the world.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" she asked Ethan.

He paused, his cup halfway to his lips. "Yes, I’ve been to Italy."

"Is their coffee as good as this?"

Ethan took a slow sip before setting his cup down. "I think you’ll find that each country believes they have the best coffee. When I was in Australia, they swore their coffee was better than the Italians’—because the Italians in Australia made it. Italians, of course, claim theirs is the best, but the Spanish would argue otherwise. One of the countries that doesn’t have a dog in the fight is England. They’re convinced they make the best tea, although India and China would definitely disagree."

Star blinked, her jaw dropping. "That is a very diplomatic answer. I didn’t peg you for that type of guy."

Ethan raised a brow. "Why’s that?"

She shrugged. "I just assumed you’d blurt out your truth and back it up with facts instead of presenting such a rounded view."

"Have I ever done that?" He frowned slightly.

Star considered for a moment, then shook her head. "No … maybe I’m projecting my tendencies onto you."

Blinking, Ethan rested his chin on his hand and stared at her. She was starting to see that was the thing he did when she confused him. "Explain that, please."

She sighed. "I don’t have a filter. I just say things, and then I get in trouble because I haven’t thought them through. But that’s how my brain works—I say things, and then I think, man, I shouldn’t have said that after I’ve already said them. Sometimes, I realize I probably shouldn’t have said them in the first place, but I say them anyway. It doesn't matter because, as I said, I don’t have a filter, so I know I’m going to do it, and I just explain after I say it. Does that make sense?"

Ethan shook his head. "Not even a little bit. But as long as it makes sense to you , that’s all that matters."

Star perked up. "Well, it makes perfect sense to me."

"Then you’re good to go." Ethan grinned and took another sip of his coffee.

Bianca returned with a plate piled high with different desserts. She set it down between them with two forks. Ethan’s phone beeped again, and he pulled it out to look at it. “Excuse me?” He started typing on the phone.

Bianca turned to her. "You’ll have to tell me which one you like best—it’ll be the featured dessert next week."

Star’s eyes widened. "Bianca, there are five desserts on this plate!"

Bianca waved her hand dismissively. "Take your time, let it digest. I’ll bring more coffee when you finish those."

Star hesitated. "I probably shouldn’t have more than one coffee. If I drink too much this late, I’ll be bouncing off the walls."

Bianca made a little wavy motion with her hand. "I’ll get you decaf. Just sit, enjoy, take your time."

She returned behind the counter, helping a new customer. Star tested one of the desserts and rolled her eyes, groaning with absolute chocolate coma overload. She glanced at Ethan, whose eyes were pinned to her over his phone.

She blinked. “What?”

“That sounded awfully close to what you sounded like last night.” Ethan’s words were low and growled.

She swallowed hard and put the fork down. “Oh.”

He gave her a wicked smile. “I want to hear it again and again.”

She blushed furiously and hid behind her coffee. Ethan’s phone beeped again, pulling his attention back to the phone. He finished what he was typing, then waited a few moments before pocketing his phone. “The chocolate one is that good?” he asked.

“Better.” She took one more forkful of the dark chocolate heaven. “Beyond good.” She would buy it anytime it was offered.

Ethan dropped his fork. “Damn.”

“Right? Perfection.”

“Beyond,” he agreed and picked up his fork, taking another bite. “My vote is for this one.”

“You have to try the others, too,” she reminded him.

He shook his head. “The others don’t stand a chance.” He took another bite of the chocolate cake. “You want the last bite?”

“Of you, yes. Of the sugar, no.” Star laughed at the look and immediate sexual glare in Ethan’s eyes. She’d done that. She lifted her eyebrows several times and then nodded at the dessert plate. “No. Five desserts to sample, remember?”

“I’m waiting for the sixth.” He stabbed the remainder of the cake and ate it in one bite. She laughed and took a sip of her coffee. “Patience.”

“Never been accused of having any. We could leave now.” Ethan put down his fork.

“No. We said we’d help. And I promise I’ll make it worth your wait.”

Ethan adjusted himself in the chair. “I’ll take you up on that promise.”

“Good.” She winked at him and took a sip of her coffee. Bianca had refilled their coffees by the time they’d finished the fifth one.

True to her word, she handed Star a decaf.

Star dragged her finger through some whipped cream that had fallen to the side of the dessert plate and held it out to Thor. The dog licked it off in one swipe—then promptly attacked her hand, trying to clean up any remnants.

She laughed, pulling her hand away. "Okay, okay! I think I need to wash up now."

Ethan leaned back, rubbing his flat, hard stomach. "I think I’ve eaten enough for five people."

She pointed at him. "You did ."

Ethan lifted both hands in surrender. "She wanted our opinion!"

Star narrowed her eyes. "An opinion could be gathered in a bite or two. You ate almost all of it."

"You shouldn’t be calling me out like that. I’m a big guy." He grinned cheekily.

Star grinned. "Oh, sir, I will always call you out when you do something ridiculous. You are going to have a stomachache."

"Maybe."

Star lifted an eyebrow, and Ethan sighed, “Probably.”

She cocked her head, and he lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, I kind of do already.”

“Glad we had this talk.” She laughed and gave Thor’s head a quick pat before heading toward the back of the store. Strong arms suddenly grabbed her from behind as she turned the corner toward the women’s restroom.

She gasped, ready to scream?—

A cloth covered her mouth.

Her heart pounded as she thrashed, trying to break free. She tried to call for Ethan, but the world was already slipping into darkness.

Then—nothing.

* * *

Thor stood suddenly, his thick fur bristling along his spine. Ethan glanced down at his dog, following his rigid stance and the deep, warning growl that rumbled low in his chest. His sharp eyes tracked down the hallway, narrowing as Bianca walked up to the table.

"Now, that's the second time he's done that today," she remarked, pausing near the counter.

Ethan straightened, instantly alert. Thor never reacted like that unless there was a reason. "What?"

"Earlier this afternoon, when Star was here—Thor?—"

Before she could finish, the back door slammed. Ethan’s stomach clenched. He launched down the hallway, Thor right beside him.

The ladies' room door was shut. He didn't hesitate.

"Star!" he shouted, slamming the door open.

Silence.

A cold wave of adrenaline crashed over him.

Bolting down the short hallway, he hit the emergency exit bar, slamming the metal door into the brick wall with enough force to rattle his teeth. Two men standing near a van flinched. One of them was mid-action, tossing Star into the side door like she weighed nothing.

Not on my fucking watch .

Ethan charged. The bastard by the van barely had time to react before Ethan was tackling him. He drove his fist into the man's jaw with the full weight of his fury. The sickening crunch of breaking bone was satisfying but not enough. The van’s engine revved, and he grabbed at its door handle as it screeched forward. He held on with one hand.

Two hundred feet.

The van swerved violently, throwing him off. He hit the pavement hard, momentum rolling him into a tumbling slide across the asphalt. A split second later, the screech of tires burned his ears, and he tensed every muscle.

A bumper clipped him, sending him skidding to a stop.

"Holy shit, man! Are you okay?" a voice shouted nearby.

Ethan gritted his teeth, pushing himself up as a frantic person rushed over. "I didn't know what the hell was in the road! Jesus, I didn’t mean to hit you—sit down, I'm calling an ambulance!"

Ethan shoved him off and sprinted back toward the alley, barely feeling the impact anymore.

Bianca was kneeling beside Thor, who lay on the asphalt, panting heavily.

"They hurt him," she whispered, voice shaking.

Ethan dropped to his knees. "Where?"

Bianca lifted a dishtowel soaked in blood. A deep, ugly gash marred Thor’s side, and the sight made Ethan’s vision go red.

"What the hell happened? Why would anyone do this?" Bianca's voice cracked.

Ethan barely heard her. His earpiece was already in place. "Wolf here. I have a situation."

Max responded instantly. "What?"

"Star was abducted. Three men, minimum. Black van, New York plates. I didn’t get the full plate. Happened four minutes ago behind Bianca’s coffee shop in Ditmas Park." He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "They fucking stabbed my dog, Max. I need a twenty-four-hour emergency vet. Now."

"Jesus," Max breathed. "I’m working your issue while fending off three different attacks—hold tight."

Bianca pressed down harder on Thor’s wound, her hands shaking. "Who are you talking to?"

"Work," Ethan clipped out, not in the mood to explain.

"I can stay with Thor at the vet. Let me shut the doors, and I’ll drive you in my car," Bianca said, already moving. She pointed her fob at her car, unlocking it. "You two get in the back. Call the police about Star. I’ll be right back."

Ethan barely registered her words. His hands tightened around Thor’s scruff as the dog whined, his normally fierce eyes dull with pain. "Stay with me, buddy," he murmured.

Thor weakly lifted his head, giving Ethan’s hand a slow, deliberate lick.

Ethan clenched his jaw, his rage boiling under his skin. "I’ll make them pay," he vowed. "I swear to God, they will pay for both Star and you."

Bianca ran back, slid behind the wheel, and started the car. "Which way?"

Max fed Ethan directions, and he relayed them to Bianca. She drove like a woman on a mission, cutting through traffic with aggressive efficiency.

Twenty-five minutes.

Twenty-five minutes Thor bled.

Twenty-five minutes Ethan lost tracking Star.

Max was unusually quiet, which meant he was working fast.

They pulled up to the emergency vet. The staff was already waiting. Ethan laid Thor on the gurney, leaning down to press his forehead against his dog’s snout before they wheeled him away. He signed the forms without reading them, his mind already moving to the next step.

Bianca tossed him her keys. "Go get Star."

Ethan caught them, turning toward the door.

"Ethan."

He stopped and looked back. Bianca’s expression was dark, her Italian blood simmering.

"Don’t let them get away with this," she said, voice low and deadly. "Go old-school Italian on those fuckers."

A slow nod was his only response before he broke into a run.

"Max," he growled, sliding into the car. "I’m en route. What do you have?"

“I found the van.”

“Where?” Ethan started the car and peeled out of the parking lot for the emergency vet.

Max gave him the address, and Ethan gripped the steering wheel, his fingers flexing against the smooth leather as he pressed the gas, threading his way through the quiet, tree-lined streets of Ditmas Park. The Victorian homes blurred past in muted tones beneath the soft glow of streetlamps, their gabled roofs casting angular shadows against the night sky.

Max’s voice crackled through the Bluetooth. “Take a hard right onto Cortelyou Road. Watch for that damn speed bump and then gun it toward Coney Island Avenue.”

Ethan shifted gears, responding with a deep growl as he swerved onto Cortelyou, barely missing a slow-moving cyclist. The businesses along the road consisted of late-night diners, bodega windows glowing with fluorescent light, and a few bars with patrons spilling onto the sidewalks. That all became a blur as he accelerated. The streets there weren’t packed, but a few double-parked cars forced him to weave through tight gaps.

“Coney’s clear for now,” Max continued. “But you’ll want to take Beverley Road instead of staying on Cortelyou. NYPD’s got a patrol car idling near Ocean Parkway.”

Ethan cut left onto Beverley, past the rows of brownstones and apartment buildings, his headlights sweeping across the occasional pedestrian bundled against the night chill. The air smelled of rain-slicked pavement, exhaust, and the lingering scent of food from a halal cart on the corner. Traffic was light, but not nonexistent—rideshare drivers idled at stop signs, and a city bus lumbered along, its brake lights flaring red.

“Max, where’s the damn van?” Ethan bit out, his pulse hammering.

“They’re stopped on Flatbush Avenue near the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. They’ve been parked for five minutes. You need to push it, man.”

Ethan gunned it onto Flatbush, where traffic thickened. Cars crawled toward the Manhattan Bridge, headlights gleaming in sluggish red streams. He maneuvered between cabs and sedans, his knuckles white on the wheel as he shot through a yellow light at Grand Army Plaza.

“Hold up,” Max warned. “You’re about to hit congestion near Atlantic Avenue. Stay right, cut through the parking lot at that store at 7th Ave, then take Dean Street to bypass the worst of it.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate, swerving into the lot, tires screeching against the pavement as he dodged a startled pedestrian. Dean Street was narrower but clear, allowing him to push forward without the bottleneck of Flatbush.

“How much farther do I have?” Ethan demanded.

“Two minutes, maybe less. They’re still there, but if they move, I can’t guarantee I’ll keep a clean lock on their route. I’m jumping satellites to keep coverage. I jump in three minutes.”

Ethan’s gut clenched. Two minutes. He could make it. He had to.

He tore through the intersection at Carlton Avenue, past the looming Barclays Center, then slammed the accelerator, surging toward the last stretch before Manhattan. Star was close. And nothing would stop him from getting to her.

Ethan braked hard, Bianca’s car jerking to a stop a few feet from the dark van parked near the curb. The hazard lights blinked in steady pulses, casting an eerie glow over the slick pavement. Rain misted the air, dampening the scent of oil and exhaust that lingered in the night.

He killed the engine and was out in seconds, his boots splashing through a shallow puddle as he approached the vehicle. His pulse pounded in his ears. He peeked through the back window. Nothing there. Star had been in there. Had been .

He wrenched the driver’s door open. The metallic stench of blood hit him first, thick and suffocating. The driver slumped forward, head tilted at an unnatural angle, a neat bullet hole just behind his ear. Blood had leaked onto his collar, darkening the fabric beneath the dim streetlights.

No struggle. No signs of Star. Just a dead man and an empty van.

“Max, she’s not here.” Ethan’s voice was razor-edged as he pressed the comm in his ear. Ethan searched the man, and when he found a Glock, he took it. God only knew what he’d run into that night.

“Already on it,” Max responded, keys clacking furiously in the background. “Van’s been here six minutes. Cameras should tell us where Star went. Give me?—”

“Hurry.” Exhaling sharply, Ethan scanned the street. A few cars rolled by, their drivers oblivious to the crime scene. A couple walked past the bus stop on the corner, heads down, unaware.

Max cursed. “Okay, I got eyes. This was a separate guy. Not the same meatheads from the hardware store.”

Ethan’s fists clenched. “Bullshit.”

“Not kidding. The shooter’s not either of the perps from earlier in the alley either. I’m trying to trail them, too. They aren’t going to get away. You fucked up that guy’s jaw. Thor probably tore off the other’s arm. This man’s taller, broader, and he moves like he’s trained. He executes the driver, yanks Star out of the van, and shoves her into another car—dark sedan, plates are fake.”

Ethan frowned. “Fake, not stolen?”

“Yes, the plate number has never been issued. Trying to find it on NYPD’s camera system. But zero luck so far.” Ethan’s gut twisted. The hardware store thugs had to be after Star. That much was clear. So, who the hell was the new player?

“Where did they take her?”

“I don’t have an answer yet,” Max admitted. “But you wanted those guys from the store? I’ve been watching that club you identified earlier. One is at the club. Might be worth a conversation.”

Ethan swiped a hand down his face, forcing down the frustration burning his chest. If he were wrong, it meant Star was in even deeper shit than he thought. But if he were right, he wasn’t wasting time second-guessing.

“I’m on my way.”

“Back entrance is coded, but I know you’ll handle that.”

Ethan didn’t answer. He was already moving.

Ethan crouched in the shadows behind the club, cold rain drizzling over his shoulders as he studied the keypad beside the steel back door. The alley smelled of rotting trash and stale beer, the distant bass of club music vibrating through the bricks.

He pulled the stolen Glock from the back of his waistband and tucked it against his thigh. His fingers moved over the keypad, bypassing the lock with a swift override. Click. The door popped open.

He slipped inside.

The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, the muffled sound of voices and music bleeding through the walls. Ethan moved fast, his boots silent against the tile as he made his way toward the office.

His target was inside, feet propped on a desk, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Ethan kicked the door shut behind him.

Enzo DeLuca, probably in his mid-forties, thick build, wearing a tacky button-down, looked up, startled. “What the?—”

Ethan leveled the gun at him. “Where is she?”

The guy blinked. “Who the hell are you?”

Ethan stepped closer, the barrel an inch from the man’s forehead. “The woman your men grabbed tonight. Where is she?”

“I don’t—what the fuck are you talking about?” He raised his hands, palms out. “We didn’t grab anybody.”

“Wrong answer.”

“I don’t know what you?—”

Ethan slammed the gun against the guy’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. He groaned, spitting blood onto the desk.

Max’s voice buzzed in Ethan’s ear. “Hold up, Ethan. I’m sending you something.”

Ethan pulled his phone from his pocket, keeping the gun steady as Max’s feed loaded. The video from the traffic cams played—a dark figure stepping out of the shadows, executing the driver, and yanking Star from the van.

Not the men from the hardware store.

Ethan’s jaw locked.

“You see it?” Max asked.

Ethan exhaled slowly. Shit. “Got it.”

The guy in the chair—who was still trying to shake off the hit to his face—stared at Ethan. “You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on, or are you just gonna keep pointing that thing at me?”

Pointing the gun at the man, he warned, “I know everything about you. Your bank account numbers, the apartment in Ditmas Park where you keep your side game, where your kids go to school, and where your wife plays bridge every Wednesday. Keep your fucking goons out of Ditmas Park. Stay off my turf, or you’ll be the first to die. This isn’t a threat. It’s a fact. If I hear one word from any of the business owners, I’ll be back, and you’ll be dead.”

Ethan spun and left the club, keeping his weapon in his hand. Tension coiled in his chest.

He had it wrong.

Who the hell had taken Star?

“I’m working on it,” Max murmured in his ear as if reading his mind. “One more thing, and you’re not going to like this.”

His phone vibrated. Ethan made sure he was clear before he swiped his thumb over his phone, pulling up the next image Max sent.

A grainy security cam still. A man standing beside the van that had taken Star. He wasn’t a mobster. He wasn’t connected to the men from the hardware store.

He was wearing a police uniform.

A slow, ice-cold realization crawled down Ethan’s spine.

This wasn’t about the hardware store.

This was something else. Something worse.

And Star was in the middle of it.

He turned for the door, shoving the gun back into his waistband. “Max, find me that bastard. Now.”