Black Out: HOT Heroes for Hire: Mercenaries: A Black’s Bandits Novel

by Lynn Raye Harris

  He swept the light through the room, methodically checking everything. Her leggings were gone. Her thick fuzzy socks. Her bra was still hanging over the chair, and her sweater was there too. She’d been wearing his shirt, he remembered. Whoever’d abducted her hadn’t taken a blanket or a coat for her because her coat was still in the kitchen where she’d left it.

  Colt swept the light around the bedroom, looking for anything that might help him figure out where they’d taken Angie. He didn’t see anything so he retraced his steps to the kitchen, checking the rooms as he went.

  They’d come in through the dining room window at the back of the house. One pane was neatly cut out, the sash raised. The crappy alarm system the homeowner installed only monitored doors for breaches, not windows.

  Colt returned to the kitchen. Angie’s handbag was gone. That meant they’d taken her phone and ID along with her computer. It was the first bit of hopeful news he’d had. If her phone was with her, BDI could track it. He wished her kidnappers had taken his computer because it had a tracking device inside, but they hadn’t. It was tucked into the bookshelf in the living room where he kept it when not in use.

  Fuck.

  Headlights swept across the wall. Ty and Jared. Colt opened the front door and they rushed inside.

  “What happened?” Jared asked, looking pissed and worried at the same time.

  “The lights went out, as you can see. The power was out up and down the block. Looked legit. I checked the house for a breach anyway, but didn’t see anything.”

  “Looks like they took out a transformer. The power’s out for a few blocks. Didn’t reach as far as Jace and Maddy’s. It goes in the other direction.”

  Colt rubbed the side of his face gingerly. He was scraped up and swelling, but he’d live. He’d decided he must have broken his fall on one of the dining room chairs, which was on its side, before he landed. Still hurt like a motherfucker though.

  “I’m going to need to check you for concussion,” Jared said, taking in the state of his face. “But finish telling us what happened.”

  “After I checked the house, I returned to the bedroom. They must have entered when I was there. Angie couldn’t see to find her clothes, so I went back to the kitchen to get a lantern so I could set it on the bedside table. Somebody hit me when I walked in. They came through the dining room. Used a glass cutter to remove a pane, then slid the window up and climbed in. I didn’t hear it happen, probably because of the chirping of the alarm battery and talking to Angie.”

  Disgust ate at him. He should have been paying better attention. He shouldn’t have relaxed his guard for even a moment, no matter how legit the outage seemed. He shouldn’t have left her side. He could have held his fucking phone so she could dress, then he would have had his gun and been in a defensive position when the attackers were forced to come after her.

  “I left my gun in the bedroom. They took it. When I came to, I was on the floor with my arms zip-tied behind my back. Angie was gone and so was the gun. They took her bag. Her phone’s in it, so we need to start tracing it.”

  Hot anger and cold fear rolled together in his belly as he thought of Angie. She was probably scared out of her mind, and there was nothing he could do about it. Yet.

  “Agreed,” Jared said. “Let me have a look at you, then we’ll check the house, see if we find something you missed while you call Ian.”

  Colt nodded, holding onto his calm by a thread. “I didn’t see anything, but I welcome you looking. I’ve got no pride in this, man. I want Angie back safe. I fucked up.”

  It nearly broke him to say those words. He had fucked up.

  Ty put a hand on his shoulder. “Doesn’t sound like it to me. You cleared the house. The outage didn’t appear targeted. If anybody fucked up, we all did. We should have been watching. We were lulled because there’d been no movement from the other side.”

  Colt shook his head. “This is my fault.”

  Jared clapped him on the other shoulder. “Not buying it, dude. Now sit down and let me check you out. We’ve got work to do.”

  Two hours had passed. Colt paced inside the war room at BDI. He had ice on his face and on the bump on his head, but Jared had pronounced him concussion free.

  “It’s a miracle you’re so hard-headed,” Jared had said back at his place when he’d finished Colt’s examination.

  Hard-headed he might be, but he was about to lose his mind. Dax Freed tapped on his computer and chased whatever leads he could find but so far he’d found nothing. Angie’s phone was either dead or somebody’d been smart enough to block the signal. They couldn’t get a position on it yet.

  Ian had been on the phone, yelling in Russian at one point, cajoling in Italian at another. Slamming the receiver down and tugging his hair while cursing in Chinese. Or at least Colt thought it was cursing.

  Jace walked back into the room from his trip down to the fourth floor where Maddy presumably fumed in one of the conference rooms. Colt met his gaze.

  “Can you please go see her?” Jace asked. “She wants to talk to you.”

  Colt’s gut twisted. He’d avoided Maddy so far because he didn’t want to see the accusation in her eyes. This time he nodded and strode from the room.

  If anything happened, he knew they’d call him back. He exited the secure area and went down the stairs to the fourth floor. Maddy paced the hallway, spinning at the end and marching back toward Colt. When she saw him, she stopped. Her eyes were red-rimmed and his heart damn near broke.

  “Oh Colt,” she said, rushing up to him and throwing her arms around him. He stood in her embrace, stunned. Then he hugged her back.

  “I’m sorry, Maddy. It’s my fault.”

  Her gaze was fierce as it snapped to his. “No. You’re not taking that on, Colt. You wouldn’t let Angie take the blame for you getting shot. Wouldn’t let me take it either. So hell no, you do not take the blame for this one.”

  She’d shocked him into silence. “I should have protected her,” he finally managed. “It’s my job.”

  She squeezed his arms. Shook him. “Listen to me, you stupid, adorable man. You did protect her. You got her out of danger in the first place. You took care of her when she was sick. And you’ll continue to take care of her. I know you will. You just have to find her—which you will. It’s what you guys do.”

  His head was reeling. He almost laughed, but he couldn’t. “Is this why you wanted to see me? A pep talk?”

  She looked militant. “I knew you’d be up there blaming yourself. I knew you’d take on the weight of the world if nobody stopped you—and none of them will because you all do it. Every single one of you thinks this world can’t turn without you spinning it.”

  “You’re insane, Maddy. In a good way, but still insane. And don’t tell Jace, but I think I love you for it.”

  She grinned. There was pain in it, but it was still a grin. “I won’t tell. But do you love Angie? That’s what I really want to know.”

  He hesitated. “I haven’t said those words to her yet.”

  Maddy squeezed his arms and stepped back. Her smile was watery. “But you want to.” She swiped a tear that spilled down her cheek. “I’m so glad, Colt. You’re perfect for each other. I knew how you felt when I saw you looking at her yesterday.”

  He didn’t argue with her. “And how was that?”

  “When the electricians turned off the power, you had a moment where you were ready to throw yourself in front of her to protect her from harm. Then you remembered it was just the contractors and not an attack.”

  “Electricians,” he said stupidly. The work on the addition. The man who’d peered into the living room while they sat and talked. Holy shit. Steve Gorky owned a construction company. Could it be as simple as that? “Maddy, where did you find those guys?”

  She blinked up at him. “Johnson Electric? The general contractor recommended them when their usual guy couldn’t come this week. Why?”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Te
ll you later.”

  Then he turned and ran for the fifth floor. It took precious minutes to get through the security checks, but then he was inside and racing down the hall.

  “Jace,” he called as he skidded into the war room. “The electricians working on your place. One of them saw Angie and me at your house yesterday.”

  None of them moved as they stared at him. Processed what he was saying. Someone had targeted a transformer, not a single house. For that kind of work, they’d needed to know what they were doing or they’d get barbecued trying. Whoever did it used an electrician. Or was an electrician.

  “Gorky Construction,” Dax said, looking up from the computer. “Johnson Electric does a lot of work for them. They have the contract to wire all their new construction.”

  “Fucking hell,” Jace said. “They’ve been inside my house. Wiring my damned bedroom. Is every contractor around here connected to Gorky?”

  “Find their office,” Ian ordered. “Who owns the place? Where does he live? We’re going to go and wake his ass up.”

  Finally. Now Colt felt like they might be getting somewhere. He’d been telling himself if all someone wanted was to kill Angie, they’d have already done it. There was no need to abduct her first. Which meant they wanted something else.

  But what?

  “Got it,” Dax said. “Twenty minutes from here.”

  “Let’s roll,” Ian said. “Dax, stay here and keep us informed.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  The rest of them rushed to the armory and grabbed their assault gear. Then they piled into a black SUV with blackout windows and generic tags. Moments later, they were rocketing down the highway toward Harvey Johnson’s suburban home. He might not be the one who’d orchestrated the attack, but Colt didn’t much care right now.

  Johnson was connected to Gorky. And Johnson was about to find out what a cattle prod to the nuts felt like.

  Chapter Twenty

  Angie thought she recognized the voices. There were three men who’d spoken thus far. She couldn’t see them because they’d hooded her but the voices were familiar. Two of them she’d heard in Colt’s house. But the other? She didn’t know, though she’d heard him somewhere.

  When they’d entered the room a few moments ago, one of them flipped a breaker just outside—she’d heard it flip—and the lights sprang to life. Though she’d wanted to look at everything, it’d hurt too much and she’d kept her eyes slitted until they could adjust.

  In that brief time, she’d tried to see her surroundings. All she’d had was an impression of space and emptiness. There were some wooden crates in the center of the room, not far from the mattress, but she’d been too blind to make out any markings.

  One of the men had put a hood over her head before she could see anything else. There was a small bit of light coming through the fabric so it wasn’t nearly as dark as it had been with no lights. But she still couldn’t make out shapes.

  “Who did you give the spreadsheet to?”

  The voice was to her left. It was the one she thought she’d heard before but not at Colt’s house. Angie swallowed. “Spreadsheet?”

  She didn’t see the blow coming. Her head snapped to the side as someone slapped her hard on the right cheek. Pain blossomed in her jaw. Tears sprang to her eyes. Somehow, she didn’t make any sound. She sucked in oxygen, trying not to cry.

  Inside, the hood was stuffy with heat and the moisture from her breath. She needed to calm down or it would only get stuffier.

  “Don’t lie to me,” the man growled. “Charles Martinelli had a spreadsheet with incorrect data. Isn’t that what your emails said?”

  Oh shit. She’d never said Charles had a spreadsheet of incorrect data, but she wasn’t arguing with this man.

  “Um, yes, of course. I, um. Confidential information. I wasn’t sure you were authorized.”

  What a crock of bullshit, Angelica.

  She braced herself for another blow. But he laughed. “Spunky. I like that. Who did you give that information to? Ian Black?”

  A shiver ran through her. She was cold now and the blanket was out of reach. They’d shoved her into a chair. Presumably the one she’d encountered earlier.

  “Um….”

  “Don’t bother lying. It won’t help. If you tell me the truth, there’s a possibility you’ll make it out of here alive.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I gave it to him.”

  The man swore. “Why would you do that? It was none of your fucking business.”

  He sounded angry. And maybe a little desperate?

  Angie knew she needed to be careful what she said. She couldn’t know too much—or could she? If she bluffed her way through this, they might let her go. But there was danger in pretending to know more than she did, especially if they caught her in a lie.

  She decided to only tell him as much as he asked for and hope it was enough. “I gave it to him because the office where I worked burned down. And then somebody tried to break into my apartment. I needed help. I thought he could help me.”

  “Stupid fucking bitch,” the man growled.

  Angie tried not to flinch from the implied violence in his tone. She wasn’t quite successful. Where had she heard him before? He had to be someone she’d talked to. Or, and the moment this thought occurred to her it excited her a little, he was someone who’d been to Barton, Barnes and Blake in the past.

  Was he one of the Cardinal Group people? Had to be. But who’d gone to the office to see Charles in the past? The owners of the Cardinal Group were Shaw and Sobol. She remembered that from the tax information. They had employees though. Each man had a secretary, there were a couple of associates with secretaries, and a receptionist. With the exception of the receptionist and two secretaries, everyone else was male.

  Which meant this man could be any one of six people.

  “Did you get her phone and computer?” the man asked.

  “Yeah, it’s here,” someone said. She’d heard that voice at Colt’s. He was the one who’d thrown her over his shoulder. Number Two, then. She’d number them to keep them straight.

  “Give me the computer,” Number One said, snapping his fingers.

  She heard rustling and the sound of the laptop powering up.

  “Code,” One said.

  Angie told herself to breathe. Just breathe. Don’t react. Let them do whatever they were going to do.

  “Bitch, listen up,” One said again, sharper this time. “Give me the code to open the computer.”

  Angie jerked. “Sorry. It’s just zeroes.”

  “Where did you save the spreadsheet?”

  “Under ‘My Documents’.”

  He swore under his breath and she knew he must have found it. Whatever was in it, he didn’t like it.

  “Now your phone code,” he demanded.

  “169105.”

  “Good girl.” She heard the laptop snap closed. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “I want to have some fun,” the third man said. He was the one who’d talked about lighting up Colt’s place. Number Two had told him it was against orders. “Make her scream.”

  “Not now,” One said. “Later.”

  Angie didn’t move. She strained her ears to hear movement. Number Three’s voice sounded in her ear, making her jump. “I heard redheads feel more pain than other people. Is it true?”

  “Come on,” One said, sounding impatient. “We have work to do.”

  There were footsteps moving across the floor. Angie sat very still until they were gone. The door clanged shut and she reached up to rip the hood from her head.

  Crates, concrete floor, metal walls, steps that led up to a gallery that ran along one side of the room. A door? Was that a door up there—

  The lights snapped out and Angie plunged into darkness.

  They were almost to Harvey Johnson’s house when Colt got a text.

  Angie: I have something you want.

  “Fuck,” Colt said as adrenaline shot throu
gh his veins. “I just got a text from Angie’s phone. We need to get a lock on it.”

  “I hear you,” Dex said through the speaker. They’d kept the line open to him so he could give them point by point directions while watching for traffic and other obstacles. “Initiating trace.”

  It wasn’t the kind of thing most people could do, not without going through the phone company and getting permission, etcetera. But BDI wasn’t most people.

  Colt met Jace’s grim gaze. “We’ll get her,” Jace said.

  “I know.” He tapped a reply, reading it off as he did so. What do you suggest?

  Angie: There’s a park across the street from the former BB&B building. Be there at 6am. I want to make a trade.

  Colt read the text to them. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Sounds like he’s desperate,” Ian said.

  Colt: What kind of trade?

  Three dots appeared. Finally, the text came across and he read it aloud. I’ll give you actionable info against Gorky. And I’ll give you the girl, but first you have to give me something I want. If you don’t, I have no incentive to keep her alive.

  Ian’s brows rose. “Interesting. Actionable info against Gorky? Could be a bluff. Then again, he must think he has something good because the second he gives us some bullshit, we could expose the information in the spreadsheet. Dax, is Gorky’s account still there?”

  “It’s there. If he transfers the money, we’ll trace it. We’re still working through the transactions. It’s dirty money, of course. But nothing that’s going to stick if we try to nail him now.”

  “Good work. Keep searching. Confirm the meeting, Colt.”

  Colt pressed send. “Gotta be Sobol we’re dealing with, right?”

  Ian nodded. “I think so. Shaw could be involved, but if he is, he’s an idiot for failing to get more money out of Gorky’s account. I’d say Sobol’s the one with the most to lose at this point. He doesn’t want Martinelli’s information getting back to Gorky.”