The video stopped, leaving Andre’s leering face frozen on the screen.
Ty let his breath out and fought to keep the contents of his stomach down. He squeezed his fists until they hurt and then looked for something to hit. He had brought this on her. If he hadn’t been pushing her to make a commitment, she wouldn’t have thought it necessary to go so far away to finish school. She’d still be here, safe, if he’d left well enough alone.
Deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. The day she’d told him she was leaving, he’d walked away, determined to let her go without a fight as she’d requested. After ten rounds with a punching bag and a cold shower he’d had to try one more time to get the truth from her.
When he’d knocked on her door, he’d thought for a moment that she’d slam it in his face. Obviously, she’d been crying, her suitcases open on the bed behind her.
“May I come in?” The distant look in her eyes had broken his heart.
She reluctantly swung the door open and faced him in silence.
“I need to know why you going back to school has to be the end of our relationship, even if all we can be is friends.” Ty blocked her retreat when she would have turned away.
Fear invaded her eyes. “You’re just making this harder.”
“Yeah, dammit. That’s what I’m trying to do. You’re not leaving because Charlie made sacrifices so you can go to school. Are you? Or because you don’t like the life you’ve made here. You’re leaving because of me. Aren’t you? Be friend enough to tell me the truth, Rayna.”
“Yes! Are you happy? I don’t want you. I don’t love you. And I can’t stay here where you are anymore.” Her voice cracked, but she managed to hold it together.
There’d been such misery in her eyes, it had taken every ounce of restraint he had not to pull her into his arms. He’d known she was lying. What he hadn’t figured out until much later was why. In the end, it hadn’t mattered.
She was so damn stubborn and so determined to take care of herself. Every time he did something nice for her, she spooked and backed off as though she thought he was trying to charm her into his bed. If he’d wanted to convince her to sleep with him, he damn sure could have. Truth was, he understood why she kept him at arm’s length. She’d grieved long and hard for Charlie. Ty had no problem giving her the time she needed, even though she drove him to distraction—but it made him crazy that she didn’t trust him. He wasn’t a liar.
He scowled. Except for that one lie six years ago. The one that not even Joe knew about. The lie that was responsible for Andre Komarov grabbing Rayna and holding her hostage.
Ty was to blame for all of this. He had to make it right. “I’ll fix this.” He faced Joe. “Where are the instructions?”
Joe held up a sheet of paper, then turned away and sat at his desk.
“What does this goon want from you?” Walker folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the desk beside Joe. His gray eyes studied Ty expectantly.
“We don’t have time for this.” Ty spread his arms in exasperation.
Walker had been with Joe longer than Ty, but the two of them had never been what he’d call friends until recently. Walker had always been a little too crazy and reckless for Ty’s comfort level. He often wondered if the man had a death wish.
Everything had changed five months ago when he brought a woman home with him. Darcy Maddox—the cutest, most enthusiastic little redhead Ty had ever seen. It was obvious the two of them were nuts for each other and, suddenly, Walker was a changed man. Oh, he still walked the edge now and then—it came with the job—but making Darcy happy was his first priority.
“First rule of any mission—don’t go off half-cocked.” Joe leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.
“We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.” Walker’s gaze bored into him.
Ty took a deep breath. He didn’t need their help. This was his mess, and he didn’t want anyone else in danger because of him. There were things he couldn’t tell them—things he’d promised never to tell anyone.
On the other hand, Rayna’s life depended on him. If something happened to her because he didn’t let Joe and Walker in on the gig, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Clearly, they weren’t letting him off the hook anyway. They showed no signs of backing down.
He took another deep breath and made his decision. “Six years ago I was a cop in Portland, Oregon. I worked a joint task force with the FBI and DEA, charged with weeding out the Russian Mob.” He nodded toward the computer screen. “Andre Komarov took over a section of Southwest Portland and tried to annihilate his competition in one of the bloodiest drug wars we’d ever seen. Innocent people were getting hurt. We had to stop him, so I went undercover.”
Walker whistled low. “Undercover with the Russian Mob? Were you suicidal in those days?”
“My first job was to snatch a year-old baby girl from her mother. My partner and I had everything set up so the kidnapping attempt would fail through no fault of mine and the Mob boys would be none the wiser. I even got thrown in jail overnight to protect my cover.”
“Later that night, the woman whose baby we’d saved, Bree Knight, walked into my cell. Turned out she was an FBI agent. I’d never met her before, but two years prior to the start of my investigation she’d been undercover in Andre’s organization.” Ty paced nervously.
“She’d busted Andre on numerous charges, but there were problems with evidence and only a minor drug-related charge stuck. He got less than a year. While he was in prison, he struck back. Put out a contract on her husband and had him killed, although they could never prove it.”
“As soon as he got out, he went back to Portland and started a small drug war, and that’s when I entered the picture. Bree had always known it was a possibility Andre would target her or her child, but he’d never been so bold before.”
“The longer we talked that night, the more convinced I became that she would be an invaluable asset in my operation. When I asked her to help, she jumped at the chance.” Ty glossed over the end of the story as he always did when regret rose up to choke him. No one needed to know how attached he’d grown to baby Madison and Bree—or how she’d blindsided him.
“Andre got ten years for criminal solicitation in the death of her husband. She took her daughter and went into hiding, afraid he’d reach out from prison again and exact his revenge. He made parole three months ago. So, if I had to guess, I’d say he’s looking for Brianna Knight.”
“How did you know he was out?”
Ty turned and met Joe’s gaze. “My old partner, Nate Sanders, thought I’d want to know. It was always a possibility the Russian bastard might target me, but I didn’t think anyone else would be in danger. I’d have taken off a long time ago, Joe.”
Goddammit! He should have known. He’d been out of the game too long. Gotten complacent. Leaving here was long overdue. He had to get out of here now . . . before Joe realized there was a big hole in his story and demanded to know why he left the PPB.
“The instructions?” He walked toward Joe, his hand out.
Joe gave the piece of paper to Walker, then picked up two more from his desk and passed one to Ty. “First thing you need to do is stop handing out blame. No one is responsible for this except Andre Komarov.”
“Question is . . . what are we going to do about it?” Walker pulled a chair around the desk and motioned Ty into it.
Ty bit back his impatience and dropped into the chair. He hadn’t missed the we in Walker’s question. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as pissed by their insistence to be a part of this as he might have been. Perhaps being a member of a team for the last few years had changed his maverick outlook on life. Maybe . . . but there were reasons why he had to handle this alone.
“Take public transportation to LA,” Joe read off the first of four instructions. “Check into the Best Western on Sepulveda under the name Chris Knight and wait to be contacted.”
“Chris Knight?”
Walker glanced over the top of the sheet of paper in his hand.
“Bree’s deceased husband.” Ty ground out the words, swamped by the memory of her bitterness. He should have seen it coming.
“Come alone. Come unarmed.” Joe ticked off the final two items and tossed the paper on his desk.
Ty flipped the page over. That was it? Those were the only instructions? When Ty stood, two sets of eyes bored into him. He’d told them as much as he could, but he couldn’t shake the guilt for what he’d kept to himself.
“We have to find her.” Joe stretched his legs out in front of him.
Ty nodded. “I’ll leave right away. Hell, I’m already packed. I’ll catch the red-eye.” He turned to go.
“I mean, we have to find Brianna Knight—in case nothing else works.”
The suggestion hung motionless in the air for a few seconds. Ty swung around and his gaze sought Joe’s. “That won’t be easy. Bree went off the grid when Andre went to prison.”
“We may have to go through the back door to locate her, but I know some people who might be able to help.”
“It’s not likely this guy is looking for a friendly reunion. She could be in danger if we unearth her for him.” Walker voiced the concern that troubled Ty, then eyed him as though trying to gauge whose side he was on.
Ty hadn’t thought it through to the point where he might be forced to choose between Bree and Rayna. He didn’t doubt for a moment that both Bree and Madison would be in mortal danger if Andre got his hands on them. Dread swirled in his stomach as memories of the baby, now seven or eight years old, tugged at his heart. Bree could handle herself and would probably jump at the chance to get inside Andre’s defenses again—but Ty couldn’t turn the child over. Not even to save Rayna’s life. He’d have to think of another way.
An image of Rayna tied to that chair filled his mind, and rage returned to pound in his blood. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but find Bree anyway. She may be able to help. I’m going after Rayna.”
“I’ll tag along with you.” Walker straightened and stepped toward him.
“He said to come alone.” Ty stopped and put his hand out to block Walker.
“He said to come unarmed, too, but I can’t see that happening either.”
“Let him go, Walker. It’s his call.” Joe stood as Walker whirled to face him.
“You can’t be serious! Let him go up against the Russian Mob alone? That’s crazy.”
“Ty knows what he’s doing. Once he meets with this Andre Komarov and finds out exactly what the man expects, we’ll regroup.”
Ty escaped out the door, knowing their argument wasn’t over. Walker was like a dog with a tug toy when he got something stuck crossways.
Was Joe right? Did Ty know what he was doing? No way in hell would he allow Rayna to become a casualty of his previous life. Beyond that, it was anybody’s guess.
Chapter Three
* * *
RAYNA CLAWED HER way through the shroud of black fog that suffocated her. The effort took everything she had, and there was no energy left to keep her eyes open. So tired . . . she let her eyelids fall shut again . . .
Her head pounded, and her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. Precious moments had passed even though she’d only intended to rest her eyes for a few seconds. Her breathing quickened as memories returned full force. Andre and his two goons, the attack in her apartment, and the whole humiliating scene recorded for the purpose of securing Ty’s cooperation played through her mind in slow motion.
What did Andre want Ty to find for him? Surely Ty couldn’t be associated with these creeps. Would he come? An answer to the question didn’t come readily, but it wouldn’t matter. As soon as her vision cleared a bit and her head stopped hammering, she’d get herself out of here. She had no idea what her captors had planned for her, but it wasn’t in her nature to sit around waiting to be rescued. Making good her escape before Andre returned with more drugs seemed like a no-brainer.
She pursed her lips against the pain in her head and rose up on her elbows to survey the narrow cot she rested on. Thank God she was no longer bound. Mustiness pervaded the long, narrow room. The rough timbered walls and floor of her small prison made her claustrophobic, and she broke out in a cold sweat. A small window caught her attention near the ceiling on one wall, and she focused on it. Could she fit through that narrow opening?
The wool blanket that covered the cot scratched at her skin as she swung her legs off the bed and pushed to her feet. She swayed and held her breath, battling the nausea that churned the contents of her stomach. What had Andre injected her with? The possibilities forced a groan from tightly sealed lips.
The sickness gradually lessened, and she glanced around the room. A flight of wooden steps receded into shadows to the floor above. It made sense that the door at the top was locked or they wouldn’t have untied her, but as soon as she got her head in the game, she’d climb up and check, just in case they were more arrogant than smart.
A tidy workbench lined two walls, including the one with the window. That may come in handy. There were no tools anywhere in sight. Apparently, someone had removed everything that could possibly be used as a weapon. On the other hand, there were probably twenty moving boxes stacked all along one wall. Had they taken the time to go through those as well?
Rayna shivered. It wasn’t the cold that sent the involuntary tremor shooting through her nervous system, which brought another, less welcome thought. What did Andre inject her with? Was she already addicted to some vile drug? A chill—of fear this time—raced through her. She pulled the sides of her sweater together, not so much for the warmth, but for the comfort it offered.
Standing on wobbly legs, she took a few tentative steps. That wasn’t so bad. She could do this, as long as they didn’t make her take more drugs and providing she got something for her headache soon. Her first priority, though, was blowing this joint.
She eyed the small window again. It was light outside, but Rayna had no idea how much time had passed since Andre and his thugs forced their way into her apartment. It could have been hours or days. Would Ty come for her? Was he already here looking for her? Considering some of the things she’d said to him before she left Montana, she wouldn’t be surprised if he opted not to come. Did she want him to? She’d give anything to see him again, but not like this. Anyway, she’d gotten herself into this mess. Surely she could get herself out.
Any escape she planned would depend more on hiding than running, since her shoes had disappeared. Still, her gaze continually wandered to the bit of blue sky visible through the glass. When she finally mustered the energy to climb onto the workbench, she had to balance on her tiptoes to reach the window, but it appeared to be painted shut and wouldn’t budge.
The moving boxes against the opposite wall were large and stacked two deep. She strained to pull herself on top of one, then had to stop and catch her breath. Another reason running wasn’t the optimal plan.
Packing tape held the box lid closed, and she picked at one end until it ripped open. The box held blankets, towels and other household linens, but she pawed clear to the bottom in hopes of finding something useful. Nothing. She dropped a couple of blankets back into the box, then gave up and shoved the rest off the back, wedging them between the box and the wall.
The next box was half full of books, DVDs, and CDs. This was clearly a waste of time. Even if there was something useful in one of these cartons, it would take more time to find than she could spare. She let the flaps fall shut and lowered herself to the floor. Her foot jammed against something hard, partially hidden between a box and the wall. Swearing under her breath, she groped at her feet until her hand closed over a hard, rectangular object. She grasped it and turned it over in her hands. A brick. Now we’re talking.
This time it took two tries to hoist herself onto the workbench, and a wave of dizziness swept over her as she stood and straightened. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall for a moment un
til the room stopped spinning. Could she do this? It wasn’t like she had a choice. First, she had to get out of this room. Then she could go home, find Ty, and explain. She pressed her fists to her head, trying to hold back the confusion that swirled like drifting mist through her mind.
Voices. Her gaze flew toward the top of the stairs as low murmurs drifted to her ears. Someone was approaching the door above. She trembled as fear tightened like icy cords around her limbs. Andre? Would he bring another syringe full of God-knows-what? She’d rather die than let him inject her again.
Dying was highly likely if they caught her trying to escape. She’d already served her purpose by starring in Andre’s little video to entice Ty to do his bidding. No doubt her time was limited anyway. The freedom beyond the window called to her. She had to try, regardless of the danger.
With her gaze on the door at the top of the stairs, she stripped off her sweater and wrapped it around the brick. On her tiptoes, she raised the brick above her head and struck the glass. The thin pane shattered with the first blow, and she turned her face away, continuing to knock out the broken shards that still stuck to the window frame like a ghoulish smile. Small pieces rained down her arms, stinging her head and shoulders. The sweater muffled the sound of impact, but the breaking glass echoed loudly in her ears, followed by the scattering of broken pieces against the windowsill and workbench.
She stilled to listen. Voices again and footsteps stopped just on the other side of the door.
“No, damn it.” Her words were a groan as she heard a key clank in the lock. Time was up. Calling on strength reserves she didn’t know she had, she tossed the sweater-wrapped brick through the broken window.
TY HADN’T SLEPT on the red-eye. He couldn’t close his eyes without being bombarded by gruesome images of what Rayna might be enduring. She’d already defied Andre—not a good habit to get into. Would she push and push until he decided it wasn’t worth keeping her alive? She could be so damn infuriating. But if there was one thing Ty could count on, it was that she wouldn’t go down easy.
If You Only Knew Page 3
