AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And she had thought she knew about broken nights from being a Coast Guard. Ha! The lack of sleep she’d had since Robyn’s disappearance made her duty watchesandher current sheriff’s department search and rescue assignments seem like a picnic in a meadow. The stress and danger of being undercover in the heart of enemy territory for the last few days had made relaxed sleep a thing of the past too.
She frowned, realizing it wasn’t solely thoughts of Robyn that had disturbed her last night. Memories of Eric had also haunted her, especially how he’d looked when she’d broken up with him. “It was for the best,” she muttered to herself. So why did it feel like the worst? Rhianne squinted at her phone to see the time, hoping it was late enough for her to legitimately wake up. Yeah, it was. Okay, it might still be a stupidly early hour, but yeah, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable to get up now. Better than lying here, anyway.
She glanced over at Charlie, in the room’s other twin bed, hoping she hadn’t disturbed him too much last night, although she doubted he’d slept much better than she had. She used the bathroom as quietly as she could and dressed in her borrowed outfit of oversized sweatpants and long-sleeved tee, then added thick socks. She’d need another pair or maybe two to make the sneakers really fit, so left the shoes off for now.
She hesitated near the door. They could all use fresh coffee, and there was supposedly a twenty-four-hour hot drinks station in the motel’s reception, at one end of the short half-circle of rooms. There could be something to eat for breakfast there too, or maybe another food truck would be stopping off here or nearby. She could inquire.
You just want fresh air, Rhianne’s conscience told her.Admit it.Yeah. Being cooped up always had her on edge. Charlie had cautioned against them going out alone, but she’d be careful, would stay close to the motel.
Slipping noiselessly through the door that she closed behind her, Rhianne took in a huge breath of air. While the gasoline fumes from the busy road were far from a fresh ocean breeze, it still felt good.
“Help me!”
Rhianne whirled around to see where the voice had come from. Because that voice—
“Please!” A sob followed the pitiful cry this time.
It sounded like Robyn. But what the hell was going on? She couldn’t be here, escaped, could she? Rhianne’s sleep-deprived brain struggled to make sense of things, especially when she saw no one. The parking lot looked deserted.
A car engine suddenly started and a dark sedan near reception inched forward, its hood pointing toward the exit.No.It wasn’t going to get away, not if she had anything to do with it. Before she’d taken two steps toward it, a dark figure came up from behind her and grabbed her, thick arms pinning hers to her sides. He was tall and strong enough to physically abduct her—every woman’s worst nightmare, but one Rhianne knew how to deal with.
Shifting her weight to one foot, she hooked the other behind her attacker’s knee so he couldn’t pick her up. He had her upper arms pinned too tightly for her to get enough swing to jab behind her with an elbow, so she used her hand instead, raising her wrist to smash her fist into his balls. Once, twice, and then again, at lightning speed.
With a high-pitched “Puta!” he staggered back, breaking his hold on her.
Yeah, she was a bitch and proud of it as she spun, landing a roundhouse kick to his knee that had him on his ass. He was down but not out—he got his foot to her ankle, knocking her off-balance and making her tumble backward, her hands breaking her fall. Before she could spring to her feet, he was off, sprinting as best he could for the sedan, now at the exit.
“No!” Rhianne cried, and raced after him, hampered by being shoeless on the rough asphalt of the parking lot. She wasn’t quick enough—the man dived in through the sedan’s open passenger door and with a squeal of tires, the car was out into the traffic and away.
“Goddammit!” She had no hope of following the vehicle and whipped around, looking for anything that could be a clue or that might help. She glimpsed something small and square on the ground near reception, where the sedan had been stationed. Had it fallen? She sprinted back to it.
“Rhianne?” Charlie caught up to her, his gun in his hand. “What—”
“Robyn,” she said, her voice catching. “I think. In a car. I heard her calling out and thought she’d escaped, but she was still captive.” She frowned. “Then why bring her here? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Tell me the whole story, from the top,” Charlie ordered, his steady, no-nonsense command grounding her.
“I came out to get some coffee and maybe breakfast. I’d just stepped out of the room when I heard Robyn’s voice. When I went to investigate, one of Arturo’s guards grabbed me. At least, I assume that’s who it was, judging by the black clothes and the car.”
“I’d assume so too,” Charlie agreed, signaling Ian and Eric over, then repeating what Rhianne had just told him. “He grabbed you? Are you hurt?” He waved Eric down when he went to spring forward on hearing that.
“No. But his balls are. I fought him off and he made it into the car that was waiting. They drove away.” She waved a hand toward the road. “But I think they dropped this.” She frowned at the small recorder on the ground. It reminded her a little of the ones the Bronte team had in their offices.
“A voice recorder?” Ian asked from behind them, covering them and still scanning the parking lot as she and Charlie bent to examine the device.
“I don’t think they dropped it,” Charlie said. “I think they left it on purpose.”
“For me.” Rhianne’s heart plummeted. How could she have been so stupid? She snatched it up, her fingers touching paper stuck to the underside of it. A one-word note. “Tócame,” she read. “Play me.” The laugh that escaped her throat was bitter. “And they did.”
She hadn’t fought off an assailant. He’d been mocking her. She was fiercely glad she’d hit him where it hurt.
“Not here,” Eric ordered. “We’re probably attracting enough attention as it is.”
His words made her aware of what they must look like, all four of them so obviously half-dressed, their hair uncombed, the men unshaven. She nodded. Back in the war room, as she’d dubbed it to herself, she knew what she’d hear before she pressed the button to make the device play, but that didn’t make the sobbing and cries any easier to listen to.
She flinched at the almost scream of“Help me! They’re going to—” It cut off there, but her imagination supplied the rest.
“There’s more,” Ian pointed out.
