Page 95 of Spock’s Snare

All three men nod.

“Good.” I glance toward Blackwood’s house as a plan forms in my head. “Because I’ve got a job for you.”

I lay out my plan before turning away and stalking toward Blackwood’s house.

Every instinct I have demands that I hunt the bastard down, drag him back here, and make him answer for every bruise on Chloe’s body. But running blind risks giving him a chance to slip away. I need to be patient.

Even if patience feels like broken glass scraping through my veins.

The front door is locked, but that doesn’t stop me. I step inside, my hand resting near the gun tucked into my waistband. Inside, I find the shoes I gave Chloe that morning, with the socks tucked inside. I step back outside and whistle. One of the women runs over to grab them before jogging back to Chloe’s side.

I continue my search of the house. The living room is neat and tidy, although a little dusty. I move into the kitchen. It’s small and cluttered, but nothing looks disturbed. A tray sits on the counter beside a bag of potato chips and a bottle of soda.

I keep moving down a short hallway. There are three doors. I focus on the one with a lock on the outside. I know what I expect to find before I cross the threshold, but knowing doesn’t prepare me for seeing.

Frayed ropes hang from the bed frame. Blood stains the fibers. More blood is on the single sheet twisted and bunched on the dirty mattress.

My hands curl into fists.

Then I see the open window.

The screen lies on the ground outside, and the blinds sway in the breeze. Chloe crawled through that window, weak and hurting. She had no idea what waited for her outside. She only knew she had to get away from the monster who brought her here.

Red creeps into the edges of my vision.

I want to destroy this room. My hands itch to tear the bed into pieces. But I don’t want to stop there. I want to put my fist through every wall and tear the room down to its studs.

Instead of violence. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I have to gain control. Chloe needs me to be in control.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and answer without taking my eyes off the ropes.

“Yeah?”

“Everyone’s in position,” Wildcard says. “Hawk’s covering the north end of the street. Rush has the alley. Dice is watching the main road, and I’m behind the house. Our three new friends are spread out, too. Nobody comes into this neighborhood without us seeing them.”

I disconnect, close the bedroom door, and sit on the edge of the mattress. The springs groan beneath my weight. I have to turn my back away from the bloodied ropes before I lose it again.

Each passing second feeds the thing raging inside me. I picture Chloe tied to this bed. I picture Blackwood standing over her, talking to her as if she belongs to him. I see the marks on her face and imagine the moment he put them there.

My hand drifts toward my gun before I stop myself. Shooting him would be quick. Too quick. I want him to suffer. I’ll enjoy making him suffer.

The phone vibrates again.

“Visual,” Dice says as soon as I answer. “Blackwood just turned onto the street. Gray pickup. He’s alone.”

“Let him through.”

“Copy that.”

I put the phone away and rise from the bed. I consider meeting him at the front door, but I decide to let him come in here. He’ll believe Chloe is still tied to the bed, frightened and helpless. I’ll let him enjoy that feeling for a few seconds before I show him the error of his ways.

An engine rumbles outside, followed by the squeal of worn brakes. A truck door slams. Keys jingle near the front entrance.

“Honey, I’m home,” Blackwood calls in a cheerful singsong voice.

My jaw clenches so hard that pain shoots through my teeth.

Footsteps move into the kitchen. Cabinet doors open and close. Something rattles against a plate.