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A man stood on the other side of the half-door. A black ski mask over his face, a hoodie pulled over the top of his head. The disguise unable to hide the cruel snarl on his lips. “Nice to see you again. Mia.”
11
The overhead light bounced off the gleaming marble countertops in the empty kitchen at the retreat. Not one dish was out of place, and the lemony scent of the cleaner Mia always used hung heavy in the air. She finished her work but left no clue as to where she’d gone.
Chet dug in his pocket for his phone and called her. Frustration had him muttering under her breath as the line rang and rang before landing in her voicemail. He punched the end button, choosing to send out a text then crushed the device in his hand.
Shutting off the lights, he stomped from the room. He didn’t want to make Lincoln wait but couldn’t leave without letting Mia know where he was going—making sure she was all right. A tingle of guilt tightened his gut. He didn’t have the slightest clue where Mia would have gone. He’d worked alongside her for months now, lived right next door, and he hadn’t learned enough about her to even guess where she’d spend her time outside of the kitchen.
Otto.
She’d said she’d take Otto back to the kennel when she got the chance. Calling her again, he bounded back up the three flights of stairs to the conference room. Tucker sat in the same spot, chair facing the window, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was seeing something in front of him that wasn’t really there. The phone went to voicemail, and he swore.
Tucker blinked and ran a palm over his face before shifting his focus to Chet. “I thought you were leaving.”
“Mia’s not in the kitchen. I thought maybe she contacted you about Otto.” He pounded out another text as he spoke, for once wishing he had one of those newer phones. He didn’t send many text messages. It took way too long on his phone, but parting with it had never been a thought.
Until now. When his thick fingers fumbled over the keys, having to click the damn buttons multiple times to get to the right letter.
“Shit. She was going to bring him by and help me out for a little while. Said it would take her mind off things.” Tucker glanced at the wall clock and cringed. “I zoned out. I didn’t realize how long I’d been up here.”
“Check your phone. See if she called.”
Tucker tilted up his phone that was laying on the table. “Nothing. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t head down there on her own.”
“I’m going to check.” Chet narrowed his gaze, searching Tucker’s face. “You look a little pale, man. You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Go find Mia.” He made the shooing motion with his hand then settled his stare back out the window.
A beat of hesitation slowed Chet’s retreat, but there were bigger things happening than shooting the shit with Tucker. Besides, if his friend wanted to chat, he’d open his mouth and say something. Tucker wasn’t one to hold back on anything, and if he wanted Chet around, he’d ask him to stay.
Decision made, he hurried back down the stairs and out the door—bypassing the fleet of golf carts. He jogged around the side of the lodge, and the sound of barking dogs raised the hairs on the back of his neck. The dogs were the most well-trained mutts he’d ever met, only barking when necessary.
Something wasn’t right.
Pushing his stride longer, faster, he ran toward the kennel. The frenzied dogs were louder, more frantic as he approached. The door to the building stood ajar. He came to a stop, breaths tearing from his raw throat, and burst inside.
A man stood in the aisle, covered in black with a ski mask over his head, blocking Mia’s exit. Dogs jumped on two legs, lunging at the doors keeping them caged. They barred their teeth and snarled, pissed they couldn’t break through the barriers to get to the intruder.
Mia’s eyes widened when he filled the doorway, and the man shifted to keep them both in view. With a knife in his hand, he lunged toward Mia, hooking one arm around her throat and jamming the tip of his knife against her side. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Tears welled in Mia’s eyes.
Fear pinched Chet’s chest. He raised his palms, letting the man know he wasn’t a threat—or at least pretending. The only way this asshole would get Mia out of this building was over his dead body. “No way you’ll make it off the property with Mia. You might as well let her go and leave.”
“You must think I’m an idiot,” the man said, his voice muffled by the mask over his face and the constant sound of barking. “I’m taking her with me, and you’re going to let me. You don’t want to be the reason another innocent woman dies, do you?”
The words slammed against him like a sucker punch to the gut, stealing his breath. Anger—and guilt—heated his veins.
Mia tightened her jaw, hands fisted at her sides. A flash of defiance sparked in her eyes.
His mind screamed to shake his head no. Reading Mia came so damn easily to him, and she was about to act. To do something that could get her killed. But if he told her not to move, not to put to action whatever plan was in her head, the man who held her by knifepoint might do something far worse.
Chet took a step backward. “You and I both know I won’t let you walk away with her. Just put down the knife and step away from Mia.”
The man laughed, hard and brittle. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Without warning, Mia lunged to the gate of the kennel that housed a snarling Otto. Her fingers lifted the handle, but not enough to open the door.
