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“Tell me somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. Anywhere.”
I looked up to find his gaze on me, the view bobbing as he carried me forward. “Anywhere?”
I had visited three states in my lifetime: Nevada, California, and now? Louisiana. Throw in a weekend trip to Tijuana once and I’d thought my world travels were over. “Alaska. I want to see a whale.”
He chuckled. “Alaska it is. As soon as you’re healed enough to travel.”
His mouth returned to my head, then he strained down to reach my lips, the kiss a mix of desperation and need. He pulled away carefully, and I smiled.
“Don’t forget the whale.”
“I’ll show you so many you’ll grow bored of them.”
There was a shout from behind us, the tones urgent. Dario spun around. The moon reflected off of the warehouse’s metal roof, casting the rest of it in shadow, a long rectangle that looked too innocent, too peaceful. There was a long moment of quiet, and Dario started to turn back.
I stopped him. “Wait.”
I pointed at the dark figures that streamed out of the warehouse door. The rescue team ran in all directions, some headed our way.
“What the—” Dario stepped back, shifting me higher for a better vantage point.
I turned my attention to the FBI trailer, watching as the door flew open, Agent King coming out, and turning to help a pair of women. The warehouse’s door slowly swung shut, extinguishing the bright light of its interior, and cutting off my view of the ins—
Everything exploded in a flare of red hot heat. Debris flew, bits of dust and a force of wind hit my skin, and I ducked into Dario’s chest, his hand cupping my head, his shoulder turning to shield us from the blast. We were across the field, yet I felt the vibration of it in my bones, the boom reverberating, the bright light of it blinding.
It was over in a heartbeat. Loud chaos, then the crackle of death. The heat retreated and I peered over his shoulder at what was left of the warehouse. It couldn’t even be called that anymore. It was an inferno. Flames licked the sky, black smoke billowing, the bones of the building standing out in glowing red lines. Who had still been inside? With such a large building, with the teams looking for the kidnapper… someone had to have still been inside.
Someone…
I panicked, thinking of Rick… Lance… Laurent. I snapped my head to the left, then the right, scanning the dark fields, the paramedics, the bright orange glow of the fire. It reflected off the damaged trailer, the vehicles… I strained forward, fighting for a better view, and my leg screamed in protest.
“Miss—” The paramedic protested, and I waved him off.
“Where are—”
I saw Lance, crouched behind one of the prisoners, a cup in hand. I inhaled, my gaze jumping through the others, a windbreaker moving aside and revealing Rick, his arms crossed, attention on the flames. Unharmed. Thank God. I sagged into Dario’s arms and felt his hands tighten on my legs.
“It’s okay, Bell. I promise.”
“Wait.” I pushed against his chest, the final band of tension not yet released. “Where’s Laurent?” I forced my gaze to slow, my eyes burning from the smoke, the glare still too intense to look at without squinting. I passed over paramedics, FBI jackets, and heavily armored men. I looked for a thick beard, for his beanie, for that huge build. “I can’t find him!”
His hold tightened on me. “He’s okay, Bell. He wasn’t in there.”
“No.” I struggled in his hold, needing to be on my own feet, needing him to go there, right now, and find Laurent. He had to. I couldn’t… if he… my chest constricted, my breath wheezing, and I dug my nails into his arm. “Dario, you have to find him. I CAN’T SEE HIM!”
I couldn’t have another innocent death caused by our mistakes. Especially not Laurent. I thought of him, all of his gruff kindness, the way his eyes had squinted when he found something humorous, the way he had squeezed my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. I clutched a fistful of Dario’s shirt and shoved out of his arms, hobbling on one foot toward the paramedics. Dario followed, and I held up a hand and forced him to look in my eyes.
“Find him.” I rasped out the order, my throat raw, my self-control wavering. “Please.”
THE WINNER
She ran through the dark field, away from the police’s entry points, aiming for the adjacent parcel. The grass was dry, the footing uneven, and she slowed her stride, her bare feet gingerly picking their way over the wild underbrush.
The urge to whoop out a victory call was tempting. Fuck the FBI. Fuck Bell Hartley and Dario Capece. Fuck every individual who thought that they could outsmart her. She was a mother-fucking Hawk. And soon, after the will was read, everyone would know it. She would get away with everything and Dario Capece would have no idea that his newest business partner was the same woman who had killed his wife.
