“Found something. She left me a voicemail.”
“Hang up and listen, and then call me back immediately.”
I don’t say goodbye before hanging up andpressing play. If I thought watching it on video was bad, hearing it play out has bile rising in my throat. I heave into the sink.
I’m going to murder them all.
I call Moretti back. “Anything?” he asks.
“Rick and Johnny. They’re mine, Moretti. I mean it. The things they threatened her with, I can’t…” Words fail me at the sound of their disgusting words in my head.
“I’ll be right by your side to help you get your revenge. I’m pulling up their files right now. Anything else?”
“I’m pulling up the tracker app to see if it’s still active.”
“That’s good news,” he assures me. “I just found the email chain on Maisie. They were instructednotto kill her. We can work with that. There are two sets of coordinates listed as the drop off point in opposite directions for security reasons. We’re going to have to split up or make an educated guess here, man. They covered their bases. Either of these locations mean anything to you? Sending them through now.”
The coordinates ding at the same time as my tracking app loads. I don’t feel bad about installing it anymore if it saves her life. I snuck it on her phone the day I installed the new security system for this very reason.
“C’mon, please.” The little blinking dot indicating Maisie’s phone pings to life, moving at the speed of light across my screen. “Thank God,” I cry, my head dropping to the counter.
“I’ve got her live location,” I shout. “Looks like they’re headed toward the second location. They have a big jump on us, though.” I’m out the front door and in my truck before he responds. I rifle through my truck, making sure all my stashed weapons are loaded before I’m barreling down the drive.
“I’m right on your tail. I’ll see you there,” Moretti promises, screeching tires following.
I’ve never driven so fast. I don’t stop for a single traffic light or stop sign, not when Maisie’s life is hanging in the balance. Fuck the laws and anything else standing between me and my girl.
“Hang on, baby. I’m coming for you,” I promise, desperately watching her dot move across my screen. I slam the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
Her dot stops moving exactly at the coordinates from the email. I remind myself I owe Moretti my life and then some. I check my GPS—I’m still another thirty minutes out. The pit in my stomach bottoms out, and I slam my hand down on the steering wheel. I can’t think about all the things they could do to her in that amount of time.
I shave ten minutes off the drive, slamming my truck straight through the chain link fence meant to keep me out. It’s an abandoned graveyard with no cars in sight. There’s a small, crumbling building lit up off to the right. I’m out of my truck, gun drawn, Moretti right at my side from his car.
“Keep your guard up. Now is not the time for emotions," he warns.
“I know,” I seethe, kicking the door down. “Fuck,” I hiss, dropping to my knees in front of her.
Maisie, my beautiful angel, is blindfolded and strapped to a chair with chains, bloodied and bruised. It’s the most horrific sight I’ve ever seen. Her clothes are ripped and wet with some type of sticky substance I’m afraid to look closer at.
“I’ll do a perimeter check and make sure we’re alone,” Moretti says, gun raised, moving like a shadow.
“Maisie, honey, I’m here,” I murmur, gently brushing away the bloodied hair matted to her face. I check her pulse—it’s faint. She’s out cold, her head slouched forward. I assume she’s drugged when I notice the needle mark on her neck.
How did things go so wrong? I became weak and let her in. I broke all my damn rules, and now, she’s paying the price. I willneverforgive myself for putting her life at risk. Things could have gone so much worse, but that’s no excuse. Maisie has been through enough. She never deserved this.
I make quick work unwrapping the chain, looking her over for major injuries. When I find none, I gently lift her into myarms. Her small, battered body melts into my chest, and I plant a kiss to her forehead before sliding the blindfold off. She doesn’t stir.
“The building is clear. We’re alone. I just don’t understand. Why leave her alive to be found? They couldn’t have known you track her,” Moretti says, sliding his gun into his pants.
“They know I have security that would alert me if someone broke into the house. They wanted time to take her without getting caught. That doesn’t explain the rest of it, though. If they wanted me to find her andreceivemy warning, how would I know to come here?”
Ding. Moretti's phone rings. When he pulls it up to his face, he swears under his breath. He shoves it in my face: it’s a text from Matteo with a photo attached.
Tell your boy next time he steps out of line, she dies, it reads with a set of coordinates leading here. There’s also a video of Maisie with a gun pressed to her temple. I can’t watch the full video after the first hit.
The text explains the rest of their plan, we just got the jump on them. I don’t have time to crash out and fall to my rage.
A whimper graces my ears, and Maisie shuffles in my arms. She’s starting to wake up; she’s going to be in a lot of pain when she does. She needs medical attention now.
