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She left the right handcuff off and sat down on the folding chair, lifting the page and reading the cramped cursive writing.
Dario,
I’m not scared. I want you to know that, if anything happens to me, that I’m not scared. And I don’t regret anything. If I had to do everything all over again, I’d still walk up those steps to see you in that club. I’d still let you kiss me. I’d return your texts. I’d come to that suite in the middle of the night. I don’t regret anything except that I wish I’d had more time with you. I wish I’d moved in to that suite, the moment you gave me the code. I wish I hadn’t gone to Louisiana, but stayed beside you throughout all that you had to endure. I wish I’d had a hundred more nights with you, a hundred more days, a hundred more kisses.
I know my death will bring you pain, but don’t let it bring you guilt. Or regret. Or any more pain than it needs to. I knew what I was getting into. I would make the same choices now, because I will never regret getting the chance to love you. To be loved by you. It’s been the greatest blessing of my life. I love you.
Forever yours,
Be—
Forever yours. Cute. Her hand tightened on the knife and she pushed herself to her feet, the letter fluttering to the ground. This girl thought that she loved him, but she didn’t. She told him that she wasn’t scared, but she was. She thought that she’d made the right decision, destroying the marriage of a Hawk?
Wrong statement to make, stupid girl.
Forever yours was going to be a very, very short time.
Twenty-Five
DARIO
Dario hung up the phone, letting out a frustrated breath. The heat signatures on the first warehouse had come back. Live bodies inside, and that was enough to cause a full monopoly of their attention. The agents were now coordinating with local SWAT, a process that had gotten him escorted to the door, thanks to his civilian status. He leaned against the back wall of the police station and scrolled through his phone, working through a new plan.
“Hey.”
Dario looked up, recognizing the blond friend of Bell’s. Lance. Beside him stood the other one. “Hey. No word yet.”
He wasn’t surprised to see them, his eyes moving past them and to the large Humvee taking up a spot and a half. Some mental gears clicked into place.
“Anything we can do to help?” Rick asked.
A gate to the left opened, a SWAT van slowly rolling out, followed by a second vehicle. The men watched the action, looking to Dario for clarity.
Dario nodded slowly. “They’re headed to a potential location, one that might hold some of Hawk’s pets.”
“And Bell?” Lance asked.
In the tone of those two words, Dario heard all that he had suspected. This man, probably both of them, loved her like a sister. They were as afraid as he was. As invested and frustrated as he was.
Dario tucked his hands into his pockets. “Maybe. We don’t know. I’m hoping that the woman who took her is connected to the warehouse in some way. Otherwise—”
Otherwise, they didn’t have shit to go on.
Otherwise, the chance of saving Bell was nil.
Rick flipped his keys over in his hands. “You know where they’re going?”
His eyes met Dario’s, and Dario nodded.
“Then, let’s fucking go,” Lance said.
“Wait.” Dario reached out and grabbed Lance’s arm. “They’re going to their best prospect. But there is another option, a different place she might be. They didn’t have the manpower to hit both locations, so they’re going to the most likely first.”
It was a risk to get involved with them, bringing them into a scenario that he was still figuring out for himself. But the men didn’t hesitate.
“We’ve got guns. Vests. Rocket launchers. Pretty much anything they have in there.” Rick offered. “If you know where the second location is, let’s head there. Cover all possibilities as quickly as possible.”
Dario gave them a final lifeline. “The Feds aren’t going to like that, us using their intel to break into private property, weapons drawn.”
Lance scrunched up his face, looking up at the sky as if to consider the ramifications. Then he dropped his gaze back to Dario’s and shrugged. “Checked, and nope. No fucks given.”
He glanced over at his friend. “Rick? You? Any fucks given?”
The man grinned and slapped his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Nope. Let’s do this shit.”
Dario, for the first time in four hours, felt his own mouth curve into a smile.
“Good. I’ll make a few calls. I have some resources we can call in.” Hang on, Bell. Please, for the love of God, be strong and hang on.
It was night in Vegas. A clusterfuck of photo-taking tourists and restaurant-seeking locals. For the first time in a decade, Dario cursed his premiere real estate locations, set in the heart of The Strip. He was in his own version of Lance’s Hummer, a Land Rover Defender that hadn’t been off the showroom floor but could crawl over a wall if need be. He pulled out of The Majestic’s parking garage followed by six company SUVs, each one packed with the best private security that Vegas offered. There was a reason retired Special Forces gravitated to Vegas. Pussy and pay. He had always paid the most, and they could trip over pussy leaving work each day. Now, with fourteen ex-military bad-asses behind him, they rivaled anything the LVPD was sending to the other location.
