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“Tell me what I need to know, and this ends quickly for you.”
My thoughts scrambled, unable to understand what he meant.
“What’s going on?” As soon as the words came out, memories from just moments ago—at least what I assumed was just before—flickered through my mind. A car chase, us in danger, being shoved off the road. Everything was dark after that until now. Panic filled my veins. “Trap,” I croaked, the single word cracking.
“What does the FBI know?”
My back arched off the ground as a fresh wave of awareness and pain sliced through me.
“Help me,” I pleaded.Fuck, everything hurts. I need a doctor now.This pain was nothing like what I felt when that asshole hurt me or when Barrett choked me. This was all-consuming; no part of my body didn’t splinter with pain.
“Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll help you, Georgia.”
I sucked in a breath. The way he said my name had awareness blaring within me.
It was familiar. But where? When? Who?
Blinking past the haze coating my eyes, I squinted to make out more of my captor’s face. When he shifted, the light from above now highlighting his stoic features instead of hiding them, it hit me why he sounded familiar.
Because he was.
“Todd,” I whimpered in utter disbelief. “What—”
“And here I thought you were bright.” His hand rose, drawing my attention to the odd-looking gun that now pointed between my eyes. “What did that weasel of a husband tell them?” His dark chuckle sent goose bumps erupting along my arms. “Well, before I took care of him?”
Bile crept up my throat, either from the pain or his words registering.
“Took care of him.”
That means…
Barrett’s dead.
And I’m next.
A groan vibrated in my chest as I flopped uselessly on the ground, desperate to flip over to my hands and knees and crawl away from a man I used to consider a friend.
It was then that it hit me. It was his voice that night in the penthouse, commenting on my daughter.
“You wanted Gracie,” I rasped.
“She is a beautiful thing, isn’t she?” Todd said, his tone coated with longing. “Where is she, by the way?”
“Fuck you,” I snapped. My heart raced with the surge of anger, all the pain and my imminent death forgotten.
He clicked his tongue before squatting next to me along the roadside. “I’d say sure, but Barrett said you were a terrible fuck. Now, what did he tell the FBI in that meeting yesterday?”
“Everything,” I said with a fake, probably slightly crazy smile.
Was it my imagination or pain-induced hallucination that my words made him stiffen?
“I don’t believe you, Georgia. See, I don’t think he’d told them anything yet. He was waiting for something, wasn’t he? Waiting for the FBI to make him a better deal knowing his days were numbered.” The cold steel of the gun’s barrel caressed down my cheek, over my chin and back up until it dug in hard between my brows. “Just. Like. Yours. Though yours are more minutes than days. If you tell me where that daughter of yours is, I’ll make a trade—your life for hers.”
I sagged with relief despite the gun pressed against my skull. He didn’t know where Gracie was. Max—wonderful Max—had us hidden even from those he called friends in his own agency. He even went as far as hiding Trap’s and Shade’s identities for this trip.
Gracie was safe.
That was what mattered.
