Page 87 of Spock’s Snare

He doesn’t flinch.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hawk continues. “Rush knows, too. Neither one of us is going to tell you there’s nothing to worry about, because there is. But Chloe isn’t helpless.”

I glare at him. “You think she’s a physical match for Blackwood?”

Hawk shakes his head. “No, but she sure as fuck is a match for him intellectually. Chloe is fucking smart. She knows Blackwood. She’ll figure out a way to escape. You know it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes the images clearer. Blackwood’s hands on her. Chloe fighting him. Chloe calling for me, but I’m not there. I promised to protect her and then watched her drive away. Why didn’t I go with her? Why didn’t I send one of the prospects with her? No, like an idiot, I let her go alone.

“This is my fault,” I say.

Rush swears under his breath. “No, it isn’t.”

“I should’ve gone with her.”

“You had no reason to believe Blackwood would be waiting at her house.”

“I knew the bastard was trouble.”

“You had Wildcard and me at the Riversedge site to watch him. We didn’t realize he hadn’t shown up to work until it was too late. Maybe we should have realized that he was more of a loose cannon than we thought. We underestimated him. Maybe we should have realized he’d do a runaround and grab her, but we didn’t. It’s on all of us. Taking her, though, that’s on Blackwood. He’ll pay for it.”

The number above the doors changes again. We’re almost there.

I force myself to breathe through my nose. Once. Twice. It does nothing to slow my heart, but it clears enough of the red haze from my vision for me to think.

Blackwood’s apartment has to contain something we can use. Maybe an address or a photograph that we can use to hunt him down. We’ll rip the place apart until we find something. If not, maybe Spark will come through. He usually does. That thought calms me—a little.

And when I find him, no one is going to stop me from showing him what happens to a man who touches what’s mine.

The elevator slows.

Rush shifts into position beside me. “We’re going to find her.”

I’m out of the elevator before Rush finishes speaking.

Blackwood’s apartment door is six steps down the hall. It takes Rush less than ten seconds to open it. The lock gives with a sharp crack.

I shove past him and storm inside.

The apartment is neat. Too fucking neat. The living room looks staged, as if Blackwood arranged every piece of furniture to convince anyone who enters that he’s normal. The couch is centered in front of the television. A single magazine rests squarely on the coffee table. Not one shoe, dirty glass, or discarded jacket is out of place.

“Search everything,” Rush orders. “Anything with an address goes on the table.”

I head straight for the bedroom while Hawk takes the kitchen and Rush starts in the living room.

Blackwood’s bedroom is as sterile as the rest of the place. The gray comforter is pulled tight across the mattress. The blinds are closed. A framed picture of Chloe sits on the nightstand.

Rage explodes through me.

I snatch it up. Chloe is standing in front of the Riversedge construction site, wearing her hard hat and talking to one of the crew. She isn’t looking at the camera. She has no idea Blackwood is taking her picture.

I rip open the nightstand drawer. More photographs lie inside—all of them of Chloe. Most were taken at the construction site, but too many are not. Blackwood’s been following her. Hell, there are even photos of her inside her house. Fucker.

“He’s been stalking her for a while,” I call out.

Rush appears in the doorway. His jaw tightens when he sees the pictures scattered across the bed.

“What are you doing?” Rush asks when I gather them up.