“Dr. Regan Daniels?”
Warning bells went off in her head. How did he know her name? “Who wants to know?” Her hand shook as she reached for the door handle. If she could just get inside, she could—
The man’s hand slapped against the driver’s side door, holding it shut. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Regan took an unsteady step back, then another.
He arched a brow. “I wouldn’t do that, either.”
Good thing he wasn’t her.
Regan dropped her bag and turned to run. The man’s hand clamped down on her wrist. A sharp cry escaped her lips as pain shot through her forearm. The man was bigger, stronger than she was. He spun her into the side of the car, pressed her against the unforgiving metal, and jacked her arm behind her back.
Her vision blurred as more pain exploded through her shoulder. Her scream was cut off by a heavy palm over her mouth.
Regan tried to struggle, but the man leaned in, holding her in place with the weight of his body. He placed his mouth by her ear. The sticky warmth of his breath against her face brought bile to her throat. “Scream again and this will go very badly for you, comprendes? Now, answer the question.”
He raised his hand enough for her to speak. A shudder rippled through her body as she fought not to panic. Security would be along any minute. She just had to stall until they came. “And if I don’t?”
Cigarette man came into her line of sight. “Don’t all hospital personnel have to wear identification badges?” he drawled. “I could do a search for yours.” His gaze roamed over her body. “A very thorough search.”
Bastard. She should’ve trusted her instincts instead of brushing it off as anxiety.
Regan had a feeling these men already knew her identity and were just trying to scare her. It was working. Sweat trickled down her back. Her arm throbbed from the unnatural angle of being bent behind her. She might’ve gotten away from one of them, but both? No. Her best option was to play along, find out what they wanted from her, then make a break for it the second an opportunity presented itself.
“Yes,” she spat through gritted teeth, frustrated to provide the big brute with the answer he wanted. “I’m Dr. Regan Daniels. If you require medical assistance, going inside the ER would be a better way to get it. And I won’t be able to help if you break my arm.”
“Get her in the car,” the man holding her said. “We gotta go.”
“Go? Go, where?” Rising panic made her voice shake. Who the hell were these men and what did they want with her? She didn’t have any enemies. She didn’t—
Oh, god. Ketcher.
Regan didn’t know how, but these men had connected her to Ketcher and were going to use her to get to him. She knew it to the very marrow of her bones.
Cigarette man glanced around, then gave her a disturbing grin as he approached carrying a limp piece of black fabric in his fist.
Her heart stopped as she realized what it was. She opened her mouth to scream but terror locked her voice box down tight. She had to get away. If they put that hood on her head, she’d be as good as dead.
Regan struggled in earnest. Desperate to free her hands she squirmed and twisted, the pain in her shoulder no match for the adrenaline flooding her system. She shoved her foot back, connecting with something hard. The man behind her grunted and cursed when she did it again, harder.
Snarling, he spun her around. “Stupid bitch.” Before she knew what was happening, fire burst along the side of her face and her palms hit the pavement between the cars. “Do it, now,” he barked.
Do what? Disoriented, Regan shook her head and blinked. Pure, unadulterated fear gripped her as cigarette man bent down, the hood in his outstretched hands.
“No! No!” Regan tried to scurry back, but her arm didn’t seem to work as it should. She collapsed back to the pavement. Not willing to give up, she clawed against the asphalt and screamed for all she was worth. Someone would hear. Someone would come.
“Shut up.”
Regan saw the fist headed toward her face, but this time there was no pain upon impact. Only darkness.
Chapter Ten
Regan opened her eyes into a world that was black and humid.
No, no, no. Not again.
On instinct, she tried to reach for her face but her hands…oh god. She was restrained and lying on her side. The fabric covering her head smelled of cigarette smoke and was rough against the skin of her face. Trapped within the heavy material her own breath worked against her. Each pant of air she drew recycled the one before, causing her lungs to burn.
She tried to sit up. Her head connected with something hard and unforgiving. Fiery pain licked down her arm, reminding her of her injuries. One side of her face ached. A quick check with her tongue told her all her teeth were in place, but the corner of her mouth stung and left a coppery taste behind when she prodded the area. Her hands were numb and she feared her shoulder was dislocated.
She was in no condition for a fight.
Her body spasmed as ice-cold sweat broke out on her skin.
Where am I?
Regan screamed in frustration and kicked her legs out. Realizing her feet weren’t restrained, she kicked again. Shifted, kicked. Shifted, kicked. She mentally mapped the small space. Was she in the trunk of a car?
“Someone’s awake.”
Regan froze as she recognized the muffled voice of the man who had hit her.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Regan closed her eyes, trying to trick her brain into submission. If her eyes were closed, it was supposed to be dark, right? Nothing to see here. No reason to become a sniveling mess.
Regan took as deep a breath as she dared within the hood and concentrated on releasing the tension in her muscles. If she was going to get out of this mess, she had to keep a level head.
Without the use of her eyes, her other senses heightened. She was in the trunk of a car. The distinct sound of tires rolling over asphalt was unmistakable, as were the occasional road bumps that jostled her.
Newer vehicles had interior trunk release levers. Even if she could find it, what would she do? Her hands were bound and she couldn’t see. She had no idea where she was or where they were going. She wouldn’t make it ten feet before they caught her again.
Her abuser spoke again.
“We know where he is now. You don’t need the woman. Me and Benji’ll take her off your hands. After we play with her for a bit, we’ll get rid of her.”
Another man spoke in a voice she didn’t recognize.
“I didn’t pay you to take her in order to find him.”
Ketcher. They’ve found Ketcher.
“Yeah, you did.”
A sudden smack sounded followed by a muffled “Ow!”
“Are you in my head? No, you’re not, so shut the fuck up. My brother was smart. He did his research. There was a reason he had that photograph. One look and the reason was obvious. Ketcher Novak is in love with Regan Daniels. I do need her.”
Photograph? What photograph? In love? What was the man talking about? Ketcher wasn’t in love with her. The stranger had it all wrong.
“Novak killed my brother. I’m going to show him how it feels to lose someone he loves. Once our backup arrives and we have Novak secured, I’m going to make him watch while I kill her.” The stranger’s malicious laugh made Regan’s stomach clench. “But you’ve given me an idea. Maybe I’ll play with her first. Give Novak a front row seat while I violate his woman. Give him something to think about after I kill her and I’m peeling the skin from his back.”
Regan’s heart rate sped to a dangerous pace. Oh, no. The stranger was the “bad dude” Ketcher had mentioned. The man who wanted payback for the loss of his “really bad dude” brother. And he planned to get it by killing her.
In her current condition, there wasn’t much Regan could do to stop him.
The darkness got the better of her. Regan melted into the floor of the trunk and cried
softly.
Ketcher would blame himself for any harm that came to her. He would add her to his mental tally of perceived failures, right next to his parents and Kelly.
Unable to hold back the sobs, Regan curled her knees toward her chest, hoping to cloak the sound of her tears.
Something poked into her backside. She shifted her position and it happened again.
The tears stopped.
My phone.
Sweet mother of God, they hadn’t taken her phone. It was still in her pocket. If she could get to it and turn the power back on, someone could track her location. Ignoring the throb in her shoulder, she arched her back and grabbed for the phone. Her hands shook as she felt along the edge, searching for the power button. Finding it, she pressed down and quickly moved along the edge in search of the volume controls. It wouldn’t do for her phone to chirp and give her away. As she mashed what she hoped was the decrease volume button over and over and over, the little hope she had gained dimmed.
Who would be looking for her? Who would miss her? She wasn’t close to her family and they went months without speaking. She had breakfast plans with Alec. He might be concerned if she didn’t show, but more than likely he would assume she got called into work. The nurses at the hospital would wonder about her absence when she didn’t show up for her shift, but how long would she have to be gone before anyone took steps to check into her whereabouts?
How had her life come to this?
Regan chewed on her bottom lip, refusing to succumb to the self-pity forming around her heart. Now wasn’t the time for regrets. She’d have plenty of time for those later.
She hoped.
What happens when you have seven on-edge warriors crammed into a two-bedroom cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but wait?
Adam and Booker faced off in the yard, each holding a thick branch from the tree Ketcher trimmed over a week ago.
Adam shifted his feet and raised his makeshift weapon. “Come on, Spaniard. Show me whatcha got.”
Booker’s grin split his face, all gleaming-white teeth. “En garde, motherfucker.”
The hollow sound of wood smacking wood echoed through the air as the mock fencing commenced.
Sully’s voice drifted through the communication device in Ketcher’s ear. “I got fifty on Book.”
“Are you kidding me?” Adam twisted his body, barely missing a blow to the kidneys. “Where’s the love, man?”
Roman piped up through the comm. “Love has shittier odds.”
Did it? Ketcher wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked over at Brandon. They hadn’t talked about Ketcher’s subtle admission of love the other day. He was grateful his friend hadn’t pushed. Ketcher was still trying to wrap his head around it.
He loved Regan.
He didn’t know what it meant for his future. After letting her walk away not once, but twice, she might not consider giving him another chance. And what if she did? Could he leave his job with the Omega Team and move to Texas? Regardless of Brandon’s talk of atonement, Ketcher felt obligated to rid the world of as many bad guys as possible. He’d made a promise the day his sister died, and it didn’t feel fulfilled.
Maybe it’s you that doesn’t feel fulfilled.
Brandon’s cell phone rang, distracting him from digging any deeper.
“What is it, Alec?”
Brandon’s fierce frown made the back of Ketcher’s neck itch. He took a step toward him. Brandon lifted a finger, the universal sign for gimme a minute, while he listened intently to whatever Alec had to say.
Behind him, Adam and Booker had abandoned their match and wandered over.
“What’s up,” Booker asked, and Ketcher could only shrug.
“Hang tight. I’ll call you back.” Brandon disconnected the call, his face grim. “We have a situation.”
“What’s going on?” Whatever it was, Ketcher knew he wasn’t going to like it.
“Regan was supposed to meet Alec for breakfast this morning. She…”
The possessive growl that seemed to be his new SOP—standard operating procedure—whenever Regan and Alec were mentioned in the same sentence rumbled through Ketcher’s chest.
Brandon stopped messing with his phone and glanced up with an expression that screamed back off. “She didn’t show,” he continued.
“Maybe she’s not feeling well,” Adam offered. “Did he go by her place?”
“He went there first. Her car wasn’t there. He knocked on her door anyway, but didn’t get an answer. Repeated calls to her cell went unanswered.” Brandon bowed his head over his cell phone again, his fingers working the screen. He spoke fast, his urgent tone filling Ketcher with dread. “He decided to check the hospital and found her car in the lot. He also found a messenger bag. Alec said it appeared to have been kicked underneath her car. Regan’s hospital badge was inside the flap. He hacked into the video surveillance. Regan was taken by two men.”
“Wait.” Booker stepped to Ketcher’s side and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Are you saying Regan has been kidnapped?”
Ketcher shrugged off the oppressive weight of Booker’s palm. Regan, kidnapped? The words rolled around in his head but he couldn’t make sense of them. Regan couldn’t be missing. He sent her away so she would be safe, not so she could be fucking kidnapped.
“Alec sent me the footage.” Brandon held out his phone so they could all watch and pushed the play button.
The video camera was trained on the emergency room doors. A second later the doors slid open and Regan walked through. She wore street clothes—jeans and a loose-fitting T-shirt.
Ketcher’s gut dropped as the realization he was about to watch her abduction hit home. He ground his teeth and focused on the screen.
Regan stopped just outside the doors. She checked her cell phone, then slid it into her back pocket. There was a man smoking a cigarette in the corner of the video. Ketcher knew the moment Regan noticed the smoker because her back stiffened. The guy made her nervous.
Before Ketcher could memorize the nicotine addict’s face and build, the camera angle changed. He noticed a man leaning against the side of a car, and Regan was headed straight for him.
Ketcher clenched his hands into fists, resisting the urge to yell at the video. To warn Regan to run. His body shook with the need to protect her.
Mumbled curses heated the air as the man on the video grabbed Regan and shoved her into the side of a car. She struggled and the man turned her and…
Ketcher felt the blow to her face in the pit of his stomach. Regan fell out of view. The smoker from the sidewalk came into the frame. What happened next would haunt his dreams.
The man who had grabbed her lifted his arm and swung a second time. He bent between the cars, out of view of the camera. He appeared a second later, a limp, undeniably unconscious Regan in his arms. He manhandled her, tossed her callously over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. Smoker stepped forward with something in his hand.
Ketcher threw his head back and roared, venting all his anger, fear, and frustration until his throat ached. That smoking motherfucker had covered Regan’s head. He had locked her in the darkness where she would be alone and terrified.
Ketcher’s stomach revolted. He stumbled back, turned from the group in time to lose his breakfast on the lawn instead of Brandon’s boots.
It was his fault. He didn’t know how Anton made the connection, but Ketcher had no doubt who was behind Regan’s abduction. The timing was too much of a coincidence.
With his hands on his thighs, Ketcher retched until his stomach was empty. A bottle of water was shoved under his nose. He took it with mumbled thanks and rinsed his mouth, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He glanced up and nailed Brandon with a glare. “She had her cell phone in her pocket. Alec needs to get me a location on her phone and I mean right fucking now.”
Ketcher straightened and his insides shifted. A gaping hole opened in the pit of his stomach only to be fille
d with a burning hatred unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
“He’s on it,” Brandon confirmed.
Ketcher touched his ear to activate the communication device he wore. “Roman. Noah. Sully. I need you back at the cottage. Now.”
There came a time in every man’s life when he realized nothing would ever be the same again. When the choice was so clear, so absolute, it became a living, breathing part of him. He’d been through war. He’d seen the worst of humanity and had come out the other side.
Not this time.
Ketcher didn’t care if it cost him his soul. He was going to rip Anton Barzaga’s head from his shoulders and bathe in the bastard’s blood.
And he was going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.
Chapter Eleven
“Talk to me.”
Ketcher jogged down the alley behind the abandoned print shop with Roman, Sully, and Adam by his side. A sense of urgency gnawed at Ketcher’s heels. An hour and a half had passed since Alec had tracked Regan’s phone to the rundown building located in one of Austin’s seedier neighborhoods, but she’d been taken almost twelve hours ago. Hitting the building in the middle of the day was far from ideal, but waiting another second had not been an option.
Anton had a score to settle and he was using Regan to do it. The only thing keeping Ketcher sane was the thought that Anton wouldn’t truly harm Regan unless Ketcher was there to watch. It was just the kind of dramatic, arrogant move Anton would want to make.
Noah’s voice came through the ear comm. “Heat signatures show seven people inside. Five downstairs, two up.”
“I’ll take those odds,” Booker added. “One for each of us.”
“One of those signatures belongs to Regan,” Ketcher growled. “Anybody got eyes inside?”
“I’ve got visual on three of the five downstairs. Two by the front door,” Brandon reported, his tone low. “Both armed. There’s a guy behind the counter. No sign of the others.”
There were two doors along the back of the building—one at ground level and one at the top of a flight of metal stairs. When they reached the ground-level door, Roman and Adam stopped. They palmed their weapons and gave simultaneous nods to indicate they were ready on Ketcher’s word.
The Omega Team: No Control (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Martin Family Book 3) Page 8
