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She ignored Frost’s question and continued searching. Thankfully he dropped it, and the guys discussed security footage on the street outside the pub where the phone was found and from the neighboring buildings.
Trying to keep her fingers from trembling, she hovered over the text messages. She held her breath, waiting to see a woman’s name pop up. Or worse, texts Slade sent to Lena which she’d never answered.
At the word “hotel,” she snapped her head up to pierce Martin in her stare. “You have the name of the hotel Overstreet may have booked or checked in to?”
“No. We checked every lodging in the city and within a ten-mile radius too. We can’t find his name.”
Because he isn’t using his real name.
She pushed back her chair, her muscles quaking to get moving and find Slade. “I know a place.”
Frost and Mustang exchanged a glance complete with arched brows.
She swung her attention to Martin. “Sapphires.”
He shook his head. “If he checked in at the resort, we didn’t find his name.”
She pulled up the photo album on the phone and held it up. The last photo he took was a selfie.
And there was a guy behind him—his dark glare burning into Slade’s back. Did Slade know he was being followed? Or did he just happen to catch a random man walking behind him?
“Call Sapphires back. Try the name Peter Parker.” She pointed to the image. “And run a search on this man.”
FOUR
Slade pulled down his fly, took out his dick and loosed a stream of piss into the corner. The relief in his bladder after holding his urine for hours didn’t balance out the discomfort of being chained to a damned pole.
Finished, he stuffed himself back inside his boxers and zipped his fly. The chain tethering his hands clinked. The one confining his leg to the pole scraped across concrete as he moved back to the pole and sat down.
So far, he’d spent two days in this place with only a bottle of water and no food offered to him. He’d been rationing those precious drops, aware that if he became too dehydrated, he wouldn’t have as much strength to fight when the time came.
Oh, and it would come, if Slade had his way. He’d spent two days heaping gasoline on the flame of his fury. If someone came within reach of his long arms, he’d toss that chain binding his hands around the man’s neck, yank him off his feet and then drop his dead body on the cement before turning to the next man in line.
He picked up the water bottle and twisted off the cap. When he brought it to his dry mouth, his shoulder muscles stretched tight, locked up from being bound.
He allowed himself a dribble of water to wet his tongue, then swiped it over his parched lips too. The small human comfort was all Slade needed to keep going.
To keep waiting.
Across the dim space, he made out the door. He’d spent countless hours watching and waiting for someone to come through it. So when it finally opened and a guy in all black walked in, Slade didn’t immediately react to what he was seeing.
The man wrinkled his nose as he stepped up to him, and then he slanted a look at the urine in the corner.
“Good news. You’re valuable.” The guy’s words sank into Slade’s brain, hosing the flames with more gasoline.
“I doubt it’s good news for me.” His voice was gritty from disuse.
An evil glint came into the man’s eyes. “That’s true. Someone wants you dead and we’re going to hand you over to him.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s that?” Slade judged the guy’s position. Eight feet away from him. Not out of his reach if he lunged…but the chain didn’t reach that far. First thing he’d done was test it.
As if reading Slade’s thoughts, the man remained out of range. “A…colleague…of my leader’s put out an alert to us, asking for information on anyone connected with an incident in Puerto Vallarta six months ago.”
Slade arched a brow. “An incident, you say?” He shot to his feet with so much speed and power that the man took a step back. “I think I know what you’re referring to. Does this colleague deal in weapons?” He cocked his head from side to side and let his eyes roll around the room before settling on his captor.
The unhinged act he put on had the desired effect on the man. He backed up one more step, fighting to keep the fear off his face, but his eyes glittered like a trapped animal.
Slade always found that pulling the crazy card worked on an enemy. No one liked being around a loose cannon—a person with a broken mind.
