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They all wanted to punish this motherfucker. Lance didn’t just want to punish him, he wanted to bury him.
But with the information they’d collected over the past eight hours, it became apparent, the way they wanted to handle it—with a bullet to the temple after a painful beating—would not be smart, nor would it get the kid out clean. And there wasn’t a guarantee that it wouldn’t blowback on Elena or the kid.
That was the only reason that Lance hadn’t gone rogue and did what needed to be done. Not because he cared overly about his job, or even because he respected Keltan—though he did. Because whatever small chance existed of this affecting the two innocents in this situation, he couldn’t risk it.
That was foreign to him, along with all of this emotion. Risks were inevitable in situations like this. Innocents usually got caught in the crossfire. It was an inescapable and ugly truth you had to figure out how to live with if you wanted to live a life like Lance.
He didn’t want to live this life how he did, there was just no other choice. So he turned his emotions off and became resigned to the fact that the wrong people got hurt a lot more often than the right people.
But there was no risking this. He was willing to forgo his animal need for blood and justice.
But he wasn’t willing to give up complete control as Keltan was forcing him to do.
He clenched his teeth. “I won’t go off,” he said.
Keltan regarded him with a raised brow. “Callin’ bullshit on you there, brother.” He clapped him on the shoulder, even though his boss likely knew how dangerous human contact was with Lance right now. “We’re gonna get that boy back.”
It seemed like they were. Because inside that shitty McMansion, inside a gated community, was Robert Hudson’s official place of residence as of two months ago, when he relocated from Virginia to California, with a promotion and a shot at running for office.
Rosie was going in first.
Because a man like Robert would think with his dick first seeing a woman like Rosie. He definitely wouldn’t consider her a threat.
Which would be a big fucking mistake.
Then they’d go in.
Retrieve the boy, deliver their instructions to Robert. Those being never to contact, see or touch Elena or the kid ever again. And show him just what would happen if he did.
They were using information instead of fists in order to deliver this message. Lance would rather use knives. But sometimes, to people who already spoke with their fists, information was more powerful and damaging.
Especially a fuck like Hudson who was trying to get votes and relied on the shiny image below the rotten exterior.
He ultimately cared only about himself, not his wife or kid, so he would protect himself in all the ways he didn’t protect them.
It was deeply fucked up, but it was going to work to their advantage.
Elena’s advantage.
He’d heeded Keltan’s orders and stayed away from her the entire time that they were at the offices, waiting for intel, making plans. Not because his boss had commanded it, but because he knew he couldn’t be around her. That didn’t stop him from watching her on the monitors. She hadn’t eaten, from what he’d seen, and that also had almost him breaking all promises to himself and Keltan and storming up there to force feed her.
But he didn’t.
Because Polly, Rosie, and Lucy were all in and out of the room.
Each of the wives had dropped everything the second they heard what was going on. Because they were good mothers. Good women. And they would provide Elena with something she needed that Lance couldn’t.
But he still watched her, whenever he could, which wasn’t often. She hadn’t slept. And neither had he. The rest of the team had snatched a few hours in shifts, but no one was comfortable sleeping on this shit.
Everyone knew the stats on missing children.
Even when they were taken by someone known. Especially when it was known that person was violent.
So they barely took breaks.
And it paid off.
Because it brought them here.
“Okay,” he hissed out through his teeth, his mind on the last image he’d glimpsed of Elena in the monitor. Time spent trying to argue with Keltan was more time that fucking look would be painted on her face. More time when she wasn’t giving her body nutrients.
Keltan looked surprised, as if he’d been preparing for more of a verbal battle, his body was taut, like he’d been expecting a physical one.
Not that Lance had given him reason to expect such things.
Sure, his job description meant he handled the most violent parts of the Greenstone Security business, it didn’t make him an aggressive man. He was violent by nature, but it was controlled, ironclad. He didn’t get in fights with people at bars, with men who said stupid shit, didn’t let himself be controlled by such things. Mainly because that shit didn’t even puncture the surface. But because if he unleashed in those environments, where a black eye and maybe a couple of broken ribs were what was expected, he’d be covered in blood and the other person wouldn’t be breathing.
