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“Shit.”
“When was the last time you used it?” She tried to add a bit of concern to her voice.
“Never.”
“Maybe a tree branch fell over it or something.” She didn’t want to act too knowledgeable.
“Forget it. We’ll go another way. Get down.”
Damn. She wished she had been able to push it open. Hopefully, the men could hear her or hear the latch slide open. He climbed down, and she followed. When he had her walk back to the door she’d seen, a trickle of excitement raced through her. If this led to where she hoped it did, her father would be thrown in jail for sure.
On the flip side, she’d probably end up dead. He couldn’t have her know about his illegal activities, knowing she’d tell the police.
He pulled open the door, but that only led to another hallway—not to some cocaine lab.Damn. He made another call but didn’t say much other than to instruct this person to meet him in the underground parking lot.
With a gun pressed against her back, he shoved her forward. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she could spin around, grab the gun, and shoot him with it. That only worked in the movies.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Just shut up.”
How come in the movies the bad guy always told the captive where they were going? Her luck, her father was a bit smarter.
The last door led to, yes, a parking garage. That was a disappointment. It was no different from any other large town parking garage. A beefy-looking man, who was clearly a shifter, approached.
“Cuff her behind her back,” her father ordered.
“You don't need to do that. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You're right about that, and if you try, it will be the last thing you ever do.”
That was a tad dramatic. The unknown man twisted her around to face her father, and with way more force than was necessary, jerked her hands behind her back. The clink of the metal cuffs hurt. Without having been instructed, the man pulled out a blindfold and tied it over her eyes. Paris was tempted to ask if he was going to gag her, but she didn’t want to give him any more ideas.
A car door opened, and one of them guided her into the backseat and then shut her in. At this point, she wasn’t even sure if her bobby pin tracker was still in place. Hopefully, with all the shoving and twisting, her button camera was still working.
In a way, she was glad she didn’t know its range. For her own sanity, she would pretend as if her men could track her for thousands of miles, even though she knew that wouldn’t be the case.
Well, fuck.If she lived through this, the men would probably lock her in a room and not let her out for months. But if her father was imprisoned, it would all be worth it.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Ten minutesearlier
Rider paced. The message had just asked for Grayson to watch. It took a moment, but they eventually figured out what Paris meant—that she had activated the button camera.
“What the hell was she thinking when she walked into Delancey’s office and then confronted him?” Rider asked, though there was no way Grayson would know.
“If I had to guess, she wanted proof that her father is running a cocaine lab. What better way than to ask him about it?” Grayson said.
That almost implied she didn’t think they were capable of doing the job, and that didn’t sit well with him.
They were in Liam and Alex’s room looking at the feed on a screen larger than Grayson’s phone. Connolly, Mick, and Charley weren't there, because they'd offered to watch the Gonzalez house to make sure nothing happened to them—or to make sure one of them didn’t skip town. Thank goodness they’d volunteered or Grayson might not have seen Paris’ text.
“Is that a gun he took out of the drawer?” Liam asked as he leaned closer to the screen.
Rider studied it. “It sure is. Fuck.”
They watched the scene unfold.
