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While I was out of the house, they laid their trap.
They turned off the security alarms, killed my guards, and lay in wait.
They could have taken Eve and Milaya while I was gone, but that wouldn’t have been good enough. That revenge wouldn’t have been sweet enough.
I was supposed to come home and see my family safe and sound. They wanted me to relax, to take a deep breath and think everything was fine so that it would hurt all the more when they ripped the rug out from underneath me.
And oh man does it hurt. It hurts like hell.
I clench my fists, squeeze my eyes closed, and try to organize my still-cloudy thoughts into a plan.
I need to get my family back.
The Irish took them, but at the behest of Rian Morrison, no doubt. I could sneak into the New York City FBI field office and demand answers. Rian wouldn’t have the gall to kill me on government property, especially government property where she works.
Except, I don’t know that for sure.
If there is anything I’ve learned throughout my lifetime, it is that a guy like me can’t trust the government. Especially the FBI.
They are supposed to protect and serve, but that doesn’t extend to criminals like me.
They don’t care about my missing family or my heartache. If I waltz back into that building of my own free will, I’ll likely be detained and held indefinitely on a shit ton of charges. And that won’t help me in the search for Eve and Milaya.
Plus, Rian may not even be there. She was at the headquarters when I left, but she could have followed me home to help run this covert attack.
I’m standing outside the security room wishing there was a way to know for sure who carried out the kidnapping, when I realize I’m standing two feet away from a wall of security cameras.
I jump up and, avoiding the puddle of blood, push the door open.
Once again, it catches on one of the bodies inside, but I turn sideways and squeeze into the room.
My guys have been shot in the back of the head. They probably never even saw it coming. One of them is on the floor, blocking the door from opening, and the other is slumped over in his chair, head resting on the table in front of him.
I nudge him sideways off the chair with a whispered apology and then drag the chair away from the majority of the blood.
The small room is thick with the tangy scent of iron and the smell is making me queasy, so I work quickly.
I pull up the cameras for the upstairs hallway and scrub back several hours. Whatever drug they used to knock me out did the job. I was passed out on the side of the bed for almost two hours.
Finally, I see Eve and I walking down the hallway to go downstairs. From there, we talked in the kitchen for several minutes, and then Eve went back upstairs. She walked into our bedroom and out of sight of the camera, and I know that downstairs, I was walking out to the front porch for a smoke.
Then, nothing.
No movement, no sound.
For a minute, I almost think the image is frozen.
And then, I see him.
A shadow in the corner of the frame, creeping down the hallway. He stops outside of Milaya’s room, ear pressed to the door, and I want to throttle him. I want to run up the stairs and shoot him in the back of the head the way he had probably just finished killing my men.
But I know he isn’t there.
This is a recording, so I grit my teeth and watch as he moves slowly towards the bedroom.
Following closely behind him is another man. This one much larger. His shoulders are almost as wide as the hallway itself. Eve wouldn’t have had a chance in a fight against someone that size, even with the training I gave her.
Though, when I see the men reemerge from the bedroom only a few seconds later, I realize there wasn’t a need for a fight. Eve is already unconscious. Probably drugged in the same way I was.
