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“He had the security feeds come through here.” Grunt pointed to the desktop computer. “That’s from two hours ago.” Grunt stepped back so they could see the screen.
As soon as the image registered, Dimitri snapped. One second he was looking at Durand’s smug smile as he dragged Katrina from the building, the next he was throwing the machine through the window and out onto the grass beyond.
“Get the security footage and any other records you can find,” Lake told Grunt.
Without a word Grunt jogged off in search of the security room.
“See what you can do about bringing the house down,” Lake said to Joe.
Dimitri stood, hands on hips, staring at the man who lay dead on the carpet. Wishing he was still alive so he could make the bastard suffer.
“I don’t know about bringing the house down,” Joe said. “I’ll see what’s in their arsenal, but we can definitely wipe that room.” He pointed to the closet. “I’ll let you know.” And then he was gone.
Dimitri couldn’t take his eyes off Henri Boudin. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It took effort to drag his gaze up to Lake’s.
“She’s still alive,” Lake said.
Dimitri couldn’t think. Couldn’t talk. All he could see were the images in Katrina’s prison cell. All he could hear were her screams. Had she begged for her brother to rescue her? Had she wept when he didn’t come? He’d taken too long. He was too late.
“She’s still alive.” Lake squeezed his shoulder.
“She won’t be the same.” The words were wrenched from him. They left a gaping wound inside his heart. One he knew would never heal.
“No. We’ll help her. We’ll make her stronger.” His voice was a deadly growl. “She’s still alive. This isn’t over.”
No. Dimitri looked back at Henri Boudin. This wasn’t over. He turned his back on the bastard. Lake slapped him on the shoulder and without another word they went in search of clues as to where Durand had taken his sister. Because this wasn’t over. Not until Durand had breathed his last.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The men were on their way back from Morocco and the team were back to square one. It wasn’t a good place to be.
Megan left her sombre friends and retreated to the room she shared with Dimitri. As she lay on their bed, watching shadows play on the ceiling, her mind was on the man who’d wormed his way into her heart. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would deal with this latest setback. It was beyond cruel to get so close to rescuing his sister just to have her snatched away at the last minute. She wished she was w
ith him, even though she knew there was nothing she could do to help. At some point, when she hadn’t been looking, Dimitri had made a home for himself deep inside her heart. It beat for him now. The arrogant, annoying, sexy, caring man was hers. And she wished she was with him.
“You still up?” Callum called as he knocked at her door.
“Yeah.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed to sit facing the window as Callum came into the room. His footsteps were silent on the plush carpet.
Still dressed in the white cashmere sweater and jeans Rachel had provided for her, Megan was ready to hear what Callum had to say. He sat beside her on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectable distance between them, skin illuminated by the dim glow coming from golden street lights. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked at her.
“What happened?” It was a struggle to get the words out through her rapidly closing throat. “Dimitri?”
“No.” He ran a hand through his military short hair. “Sorry, no, he’s fine. On his way back. They’re due in London about six thirty. This is something else.”
“Is it about Julia?” The woman was inconsolable. Blaming herself for Durand’s actions, knowing he had seen the files on Katrina when he’d broken into her office.
“No. It wasn’t her fault. Nobody could predict this.”
“It’s because of me, isn’t it? That’s why he took her.”
To his credit, Callum didn’t lie and tell her she was wrong. They all knew there was only one reason Durand would go after what the team wanted—to get to Megan.
“There’s been another text.” Callum faced her, solemn, worried.
“What did it say?” Her voice was steady. That was good.
“He wants to trade.”
