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“I’ve got their scent,” Alistair says as he leads us back inside. “They went out through the back gate. There was a car waiting.”
My heart sinks, but neither Gideon nor Alistair seem worried.
“Can you track that?” I ask hopefully, and the big hellhound nods.
“No problem. But if you know this guy’s name, we might be able to get an address even faster.”
I shake my head. “Cam never said. It’s probably in his computer somewhere, but I wouldn’t know where to look.”
Gideon squeezes my arm. “If the scent trail craps out, we’ll give that a shot, but let’s see what Alistair can do first.” Back in the kitchen, he stops to give orders. “Asher and Garrett are staying here in case Cam manages to get away and comes back. Micah, Zac, you’ll come with us. You’ll stay out of Alistair’s way and do as you’re told.”
Zac opens his mouth to protest, and I shove him. He’ll do what it takes to get Cam back,or else.
Alistair nods. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY
Cam
The first thingI become aware of is the pain in my head. Ow, ow, ow. What the fuck happened?
The second thing I become aware of is the man muttering to himself. Carefully, I slit one eye open, catch sight of the stranger pacing back and forth across the room, and close my eye again as memory floods back. Stranger with a knife in my closet, lunging at me. Me trying to get away but tripping over my own feet. My head hitting the workbench.
And then nothing.
Fuck.
One thing’s for sure, this can’t be good.
I’m not still in my house—I got that much from my brief peek. But I’m inahouse, lying on what feels like a couch. Trying to be subtle, I shift my weight to see if my phone’s still in my pocket. It’s not… and I’m not subtle.
“Are you awake? You are! Open your eyes.”
I don’t want to, but I’m also really bad at faking sleep, so reluctantly, I open my eyes and sit up.
Mistake.
The room spins around me, and I clamp a hand to my aching head and moan.
“I didn’t hit you!” the stranger yells. “I didn’t! It’s not assault. They can’t arrest me.”
I’m pretty sure the fact that he was hiding in my closet with a knife means he can be arrested, but whatever.
“Please stop yelling,” I whimper, and he falls silent. “Where am I?” Maybe if I play dumb, he’ll… what? Let me go? I don’t know why he took me in the first place.
“Safe,” he insists. “You’re somewhere safe.”
That’s not as reassuring as he seems to think.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he continues. “Once you’re finished, you can go home.”
…what?
Once I’mfinished?
“Once I’m finished what?” The throbbing in my head eases from kill-me-now to you’ll-die-later, and I cautiously lower my hand to look at the stranger. He’s completely unremarkable apart from the slightly crazed expression and the fact that he’s sweating profusely. I definitely don’t feel safe.
“My puzzle. I ordered it, and you never sent it. That’s bad customer service.”
