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Instead, she rose to grab one of the fitness magazines she’d seen on his nightstand—it beat spending more time staring at Nash’s wall and questioning her life choices—when she heard a crash in the next room. Her first instinct was to open the door and see if her friend needed help, but he cursed loudly and grunted. Were those punches being thrown?
“Get the fuck out!” he demanded.
Panic flared through her veins. Someone was in his apartment. Nash was both calling them off and warning her.
Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.
Madison turned around the room, admonishing herself.Think fast!
Panting, she searched for her shoes and her backpack, stepping into the first and plucking up the second the moment she spotted it. With trembling fingers, she searched every pocket. The USB drive was still there, but her burner phone was charging in the kitchen.
The scuffle in the next room grew louder. A man growled out in pain. Madison bit back a cry. Everything inside her wanted to rush into the living room and help Nash. But he’d told her not to. And if the intruders had anything to do with the Pershings, the moment they had her in their clutches, they would waste him. Nash was a witness they didn’t need. If she escaped, they would keep him alive to extract information. It would be horrible, but at least he wouldn’t be dead. And she would send help.
Feeling helpless, she dashed to Nash’s bathroom and climbed out the window—just as she heard gunshots explode in the night.
* * *
By four in the morning, Matt swore he was going to lose his mind. Hunter’s call shortly after midnight that Nash’s place had been hit, that his friend was in the ER fighting for his life, and that Madison was missing had sent him into a full-blown fucking panic. Every indication was that she’d escaped, but he’d been scouring the area around the university for over three hours now. He’d seen no sign of her.
The attack on Nash’s apartment hadn’t been random. He suspected Pershing’s people, and they weren’t fucking around. What if they’d run Madison down in the past few hours and taken her? He had some ugly ideas about what they’d do once they got their hands on her. Pershing himself might see reason. He would be more inclined to avoid the scandal—or criminal charges—that came from being implicated in his granddaughter-in-law’s murder. He would negotiate—to a point. Todd, on the other hand… If the bloodthirsty asshole could slit the throat of his cousin and best friend he’d loved, what would he do to the wife he despised?
On the seat beside him, his phone rang. He prayed it was a random number, that Madison might have found a phone to call him. Instead, Joaquin Muñoz’s name lit up the display.
“Yeah,” he answered, making another right turn around the now-dark bars and kitschy restaurants surrounding the university. He spotted a twenty-four-hour pancake house with a smattering of people inside and whipped his truck into the first parking spot.
“I’m at the hospital with Nash,” Joaquin said. “He’s going to make it. He got nearly thirty stitches, and he lost a shit-ton of blood after a blade nicked his femoral artery. They’re keeping him for a bit longer to give him another round of blood and to observe him. Thank God the police showed up when they did.”
“Thank God he’s all right. Who called 911?”
“Anonymous tip.”
Madison? Matt couldn’t be sure. “Can Nash tell us anything?”
“They haven’t let me see him yet. Besides being used as a target for some asshole’s blade, he also has a concussion, presumably from hitting his head when he fell. They’re running some other tests and taking X-rays.”
“Fuck.”
“Hey, his injuries may sound bad, but Nash came out the winner. He’ll recover. The officer who was first on the scene assured me the goon with the broken neck and the two with GSWs to the head will not. Anything new there?”
Matt shoved his truck into park and climbed out. “Nothing. I’ve already swept Nash’s building—every floor of both towers. Now I’m going to hit the surrounding area on foot.”
That seemed like the next likely place to search since the university scene was the closest public vicinity for her to disappear.
“All those bars closed two hours ago,” Joaquin pointed out.
Matt hardly needed his boss to remind him. That had been screaming through his head for a hundred-twenty horrible minutes.
“Maybe there’s a place where someone could linger, like this pancake house I’m about to skim. Any updates from Hunter or Logan?” He spoke carefully, in case Pershing’s people had already zeroed in on him and were listening to his calls.
“Nothing beyond the fact they’re looking, too. Hunter headed for Dad’s house, just in case.”
Matt frowned, then realized Joaquin wasn’t talking about his stepfather, Caleb Edgington.
“It’s futile.” Even if Madison wouldn’t be risking her father because he was in Houston, she was too smart to head someplace as obvious as her childhood home.
“Probably, but better to check all the angles. And…he just texted me. No one was home. Anywhere else he should try? Logan is doing a drive-by of known friends’ apartments.”
Matt cursed in frustration. She wouldn’t put her girl-gang in jeopardy, either. “He’s not going to find anything.”
