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Chapter Three
12:12 a.m., Saturday – an empty warehouse in Denver, Colorado
Cameron felt a mix of relief and rage—relief at finding Erica alive in a chair and rage at seeing the motherfuckers who had taken her from Destiny. The pricks had stripped her from the waist up. Had they raped her? His pulse burned like lava in his veins. Seeing them holding their guns to her head was causing his heart to thud hard in his chest. Adrenaline was coursing through his body to act, but he and Dylan had to be smart. She must survive this night.
The bastard with the scar sneered. “Lower your weapons and put your hands up.”
“You’re clearly in charge here,” Dylan said in a flat tone.
Cam knew his brother was only buying time by talking, trying to get the two men off guard.
“You assholes better do what we say,” the one with the tats barked at him.
Dylan turned to Cam. “You take out Tat,” he whispered.
He nodded, keeping his finger on the trigger.
The two dicks smirked.
“We said drop you weapons.” The bastard swung his weapon away from Erica’s head to their direction.
“Now!” Dylan yelled.
They both fired their guns at Erica’s kidnappers. The bullets hit their marks, delivering instant mortal wounds in the two assholes. The thugs fell to the ground, their eyes wide in glassy-dead surprise.
“Oh my God,” Erica said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re here.”
He and Dylan ran to her.
In a flash they had her out of her restraints and in their arms.
Unable to hold back his overwhelming emotions, Cam kissed her. She melted into him, surrendering her lips to his.
Dylan took off his jacket and placed it around her. “Let’s get her out of here to somewhere secure. Then we can call the others. My bet is these two aren’t the only ones involved in this.”
“They aren’t.” Erica’s big blue eyes glistened from teardrops. “They mentioned a boss.”
Cam hauled Erica up into his arms. She placed her arms around his neck. He followed Dylan, who had his gun in his hand, out of the warehouse.
* * * *
11:57 p.m., Saturday – a highway four hours from Destiny, Colorado
Long days and nights were something Dylan knew quite well, but the past forty-eight hours had been utter hell.
Erica was safe. They’d won the most important battle, even if the ten million dollars that Scott had sent to the Russian market vanished in a few seconds. That fact seemed to indicate Niklaus Mitrofanov as the culprit calling the shots. The other purchases were legit, which was surprising. Real companies. The Knights could sell their shares in the next couple of days and get most of their money back. He wasn’t happy that the Russian had netted so much money, but he was glad that the heat was off of Erica. There would be no reason for the mobster to come after her again. Once back in Destiny, Dylan would help Jason bring down Mitrofanov and try to recover Eric and Scott’s ten million.
A current pop love ballad drifted out of the Mercedes’s speakers. Normally, Dylan traveled without music, better to stay alert and on guard, but Erica’s shivering had moved Cameron to turn on SiriusXM.
His brother had incredibly good instincts in sensing what she needed. Cam was taking good care of Erica, extremely good care. She seemed to relax a little listening to the tunes. Only fifteen minutes into the drive back to Destiny, she finally dozed off. Thank God. She deserved a little respite from all she’d gone through.
The images of those two motherfuckers were burned into his mind. They were just Mitrofanov’s muscle. Whatever it took, Dylan was going to make the man pay for what he’d done to Erica.
Behind the wheel of Cam’s car, Dylan glanced over at Erica. She was asleep in his brother’s arms. From the gentle breathing he heard from Cam, Dylan could tell that he, too, had nodded off. Understandable, since the long amount of time they’d spent with Denver PD. Giving their statements had taken many hours. They’d still be there if he and the Texans hadn’t called in a few favors from old associates at the Agency.
The sun was just now going down. Four more hours until they reached home.
Home?
