by Katie Ruggle
“I’ll be there in three minutes.” Cara’s matter-of-fact steadiness settled Molly’s nerves, and anger at Sonny started to build. It was an effort to keep from gunning the engine as she raced toward their house. She couldn’t be delayed, not now.
As she pulled up to the curb, Cara and Norah were waiting. As soon as they’d piled into the car, Molly swung around and took off the way she’d come. “You ready for a rescue mission?” she asked her sisters grimly.
“Not really,” Norah admitted, surprising a choke of laughter out of Molly. “It doesn’t matter, though. Let’s go get John back.”
* * *
The drive to the Denver address felt endless, and it was almost physically painful to keep her speed down. Her sisters helped, offering up plans and reassurances that Molly didn’t really believe but was touched by anyway. Her fingers clutched tightly on the steering wheel as she tried not to imagine what horrible things could be happening to John. It didn’t help that his car smelled like him, reminding her of every sweet thing he’d said or done. She forced her brain to concentrate on the interstate mile markers, counting down until—to her enormous relief—they finally reached the right exit.
“Turn right at this light,” Cara said in her quiet way, although Molly could see how tightly her sister was gripping her phone. After just a few miles, Cara pointed through the windshield. “It’s just a half mile down this road.”
Molly cut the car’s lights and eased a few blocks closer to the address, parking along a line of old, mostly vacant-looking buildings. Shutting off the engine, she turned to look at her sisters. “Ready?”
Even in the pale light from a streetlamp half a block away, she could see that Norah was terrified. Although Cara’s expression was tense and strained, she looked a little better. Both of them gave firm, resolute nods, and Molly had to blink back sudden tears as a rush of affection for her sisters hit her hard.
“Thank you for this. I love both of you.”
“Love you too, Moo,” Cara said. “Now let’s do this before I throw up from nerves.”
They got out, and Norah slipped into the driver’s seat, ready to be the getaway driver if necessary. Molly and Cara hurried toward the address that Sonny had noted in his phone. Except for the distant sound of traffic, the neighborhood was silent, but it didn’t feel like the same empty quiet that Molly had felt at the Langston warehouse. This was tense and watchful, as if someone in the darkness was waiting for the right time to strike.
Molly evened her breathing and straightened her shoulders, not allowing her imagination to terrify her even more than she already was. They just needed to get in, grab John, and get back out again. Easy-peasy. Once he was safe, then they’d nab Sonny, and everything would be right again. She wished she could call the cops, but she needed to find out more about John’s situation first. If the sound of sirens spooked them into killing John, she’d never forgive herself.
Shoving away a wave of hopelessness, she focused on the next step. They needed to see what was happening in the warehouse.
It was much easier said than done, she saw as they reached the chain-link fence surrounding the property. That barrier was eight feet high and topped with razor wire. Unlike the surrounding buildings, this one had several area lights, cutting away the shadows that would be so handy to hide in. Molly scanned the exterior of the building, trying to pick out possible points of entry. It looked to be single-story, with just a few windows in what appeared to be a reception area on the northwest corner. Otherwise, the walls stretched tall and impenetrable.
“No wonder they picked this location,” Cara said, barely loud enough for Molly to hear.
With a grim nod, Molly eyed the building again, seeing just as few options as she had the first time. It didn’t matter, though. If John was in there, she was going to get him out, even if she had to rip through the steel siding with her teeth.
Motioning for Cara to follow, she slipped along the fence until they reached the far corner, where the shadow of an industrial-sized dumpster darkened a short stretch of the barrier. Without pausing long enough to let herself think and get freaked out at what they were walking into, Molly pulled out her wire cutters and got to work on the chain link, snipping each wire until she could push a section aside large enough to crawl through.
The fencing scraped against the pavement as she squeezed through the hole, and she fought the urge to freeze like a trapped rabbit. Instead, sending out a prayer that the small noise hadn’t been heard, she held the cut section back so that Cara could follow her into the fenced enclosure.
Once Cara was through, Molly tucked the improvised door back into place, hoping that it wouldn’t be noticed until they were out. She glanced at Cara and then at the stretch of clear, dimly lit asphalt between them and the warehouse. There was no way to keep hiding in the shadows, not if they wanted to reach the building. Taking a deep breath, she sprinted as soundlessly as she could.
With every step, she braced for the sound of gunfire and the impact of a bullet. Her breathing was coming too fast, but she couldn’t help it. Between fear and running, her body was demanding more oxygen. It felt like it took an eternity to cover the short distance to the building. As Molly drew closer to the metal siding, she resisted the urge to look behind her. Just get this part done, she told herself. Then you can worry about Cara.
She finally reached the building and flattened herself against the siding, trying to keep in the shadows without bumping against the metal sheeting and giving away their position. Cara was just a step behind her, and Molly felt something release in her chest at the sight of her sister. Feeling exposed, she moved quickly, staying close to the side of the building as she tried to find an access point she’d overlooked.
There was nothing, though—just a smooth, unbroken wall.
Swallowing a growl of frustration, she tipped her head back and went still. There. An access ladder climbed the wall to the roof, the first rung starting seven feet off the ground. Molly pointed, and Cara crouched, linking her fingers together to offer a boost.
Placing her foot in her sister’s hands, Molly jumped as Cara launched her upward, her arms reaching for one of the rungs. She managed to catch the third one and curled her body, pulling up her feet very carefully so she didn’t accidentally kick the siding and give their position away. Her abs ached from the slow effort, and she sent a mental thanks to Felicity for her core workouts. It was the second time in the past few days that she’d had a reason to be grateful for her sister’s drill-sergeant tendencies, and she made a silent vow to never whine during workouts again.
Pressing the soles of her boots against the first rung, she hauled herself to a standing position and then glanced down at Cara, prepared to give her sister a hand up. Cara waved her away, however, gesturing toward the front of the building. Molly interpreted that as Cara intending to look for another entrance, and she frowned. Splitting up was how they’d gotten in this situation in the first place. There was no arguing with Cara, though, and she watched with growing worry as her sister moved away, staying close to the side of the building.
Her stomach tight with fear for both John and Cara, Molly gave up on trying to call her sister back using only vehement gestures and started climbing the ladder instead. Once she could see over the top of the wall to the roof, she paused, checking to make sure it was empty of people. Nothing moved, and she cautiously climbed the last few steps until she could swing a leg over and step onto the flat roof.
Small pebbles crunched beneath her boots, and she tried to quiet her footsteps. The industrial condensing units provided too many hiding places, making her flinch at the tiniest sounds. Trying to see into every shadow, she made her way toward the hatch into the building. She missed having Cara at her back—and she really missed having John with her.
I’ll get him back, she mentally vowed. He’d better be in the condition I left him in, too. It helped to thin
k of all sorts of punishments that she’d rain down on anyone who’d hurt John. Her spine stiffened and her hands steadied as she reached for the opening that led into the building. It was locked from the inside, so she pulled out a set of lockpicks and got to work. Every scratch and click of her tools sounded too loud in the silence, and it felt as if every exhale was a shout. By the time she’d managed to unlock the hatch and swing it open, her blood was buzzing with adrenaline and her nerves were rattled.
The room the hatch had opened into was pitch-black. Unwilling to shine her flashlight into the space and possibly alert someone of her presence, Molly took a deep breath and descended the steps into darkness, silently closing the hatch behind her. Moving quickly and quietly, she reached the floor and blinked, trying to see shapes in the thick blackness, but there was nothing.
Knowing that she needed to see where she was going, she pulled out her small flashlight, pressing it against her hand to muffle most of the light. She looked around, her bones going watery with relief when she didn’t see anyone waiting to pounce. It looked like she was in a utility room, judging by the mechanical equipment and the dusty cleaning supplies piled up by the door.
Turning off her light, Molly crept toward the door, pressing her ear against it to listen. There was only silence, so she carefully turned the knob and opened it the tiniest bit. Putting her face to the crack, she peered into the space but didn’t see anything in her line of vision except some empty industrial shelves. The light was slightly brighter outside the room she was in, illuminating it enough that she could see shapes without her flashlight.
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled as she slipped out of the utility room. The hugeness of the open space made her feel like she was out in the open and vulnerable, so she stayed in the safety of shadows created by the oversize shelves. She moved through the space, stopping occasionally to listen for voices or to squint through the dimness, trying to see anything—movement or human-sized shapes—but she was alone with the shadows and the empty, dusty shelves.
She started wondering if she’d overreacted. Maybe John was back in Langston right now, laughing about the joke he’d played on her.
No. He wouldn’t have tried to scare her, not when they were both keyed up and watching for Sonny. Someone else had sent that text. Even though he loved to tease her, John wasn’t a jerk, and he cared about her too much to do something that dangerous and hurtful.
Molly cared about him, too—so much that the idea of losing him made her want to curl up into a pain-racked ball. There was no time for that, though. She needed to rescue her man.
Moving through the building with more purpose now, she started looking for a way to divide up the warehouse so she could search each section without missing any parts. As she passed a pillar, she looked to her right and paused. Was the light slightly brighter in that direction? She cautiously headed that way, taking greater care to stay silent and keep to the shadows.
A sound made her freeze, even before she recognized it as the smack of knuckles against flesh. A thousand images of how they could be torturing John, each one worse than the last, ran through her mind, but she firmly shut off that flow. If she wanted to function, she couldn’t think about that.
She moved closer to the sound and started to pick up the murmur of voices. The light was brighter, and she moved cautiously, not wanting to make any noise. Picking up her foot, she carefully stepped forward. The slight pressure on her shin made her go completely still as she looked down. A trip wire, pulled taut by her lower leg, caught the faint light. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a distressed sound as the grenade at Mother Tick’s house flashed through her mind.
Unbearably slowly, she moved her leg back, returning the wire to its original position. As she stepped over it, pulling her knees up higher than she needed to clear the wire, her heart beat loudly in her ears, even as anger made her hands tighten into fists. Of course Sonny set booby traps. She wondered if that was how he’d caught John and gotten hold of his phone, and then she forced herself to quit dwelling on her worst fears. She couldn’t wait until Sonny Zarver was back behind bars again.
Placing each foot carefully, she moved to the end of a row of shelving. Peeking around a partition, she saw a small huddle of people looming threateningly over a man sitting in an office chair. Shifting so she was slightly more exposed, she got a better view of the bloodied man.
John!
Chapter 22
Although it was nearly impossible to drag her horrified gaze off John’s swollen and bloody face, Molly forced herself to look at the others. There were four of them: Sonny; a big, bouncer-shaped guy she didn’t recognize; a tall man with his back to her; and a shorter, wiry man.
Biting her lip to keep the mental shout from slipping out of her mouth, she watched in horror as the burly guy hovering over John cocked back his fist and then let it fly. The clenched paw swung around, seeming to slow as it headed for John’s already battered face. The man’s knuckles caught John on the side of his jaw, snapping his head to the side as the punch connected with a meaty thump.
Molly flinched as if she’d been the one hit, and she barely kept herself from running toward John’s assailant and tackling him to the ground. She’d see how he liked having a flurry of punches raining down at his face. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, and the tiny pain steadied her thoughts.
Looking closer at the group, she saw that John had been tied to the chair, his legs, arms, and chest gleaming silver with strips of duct tape that circled his limbs and torso. Although his head was bobbing slightly, he looked conscious, and she sent a mental prayer that he stay that way for a while longer. If he couldn’t run or walk or even crawl to the car, she had no idea how she’d manage to get him out.
She hadn’t called the cops, since she didn’t know the situation that John was in. Now, she was still torn. As much as she would’ve loved some armed backup, it would be too easy for one of these guys to put a bullet in John’s beautiful head before anyone could even breach the building.
Her phone vibrated against her leg, and she carefully looked at the screen, taking great pains to hide any flash of light from reaching the huddle of men. It was from Cara, a group text to both Molly’s phone and Norah’s.
I’m in.
Molly squeezed her phone so hard her fingers ached. Her thoughts spun, bombarding her with half-assed plans and impulses, but she forced herself to focus on just the next step, her fingers trembling as she typed out her text.
John’s here. Tied. Sonny +3
In just seconds, a response popped onto her screen.
What’s the plan?
After a short hesitation, Molly sent just the word hold. Although she didn’t know if her sister had spotted John and the four goons yet, Molly wasn’t sure how to direct her to this spot. She hated to see John being hurt, but she knew if she messed this up, then she and John and very likely Cara could be captured or hurt or killed. Her stomach lurched at the thought. It was so much easier to come up with risky plans when it was just her safety on the line. When it was people she loved, it got a whole lot harder. In case Cara disregarded her message, Molly typed Watch out for traps!
Squeezing her eyes closed, she let out a silent, shuddering breath. She could do this. All she needed was a plan. Opening her eyes again, she took in the horrifying tableau in front of her. She needed to even the odds so it wasn’t four with guns against two without—plus a taped-up John. As she forced her thoughts into some sort of order, she slipped closer, using the partition to hide her movements from the group and watching out for trip wires.
In her new spot, huddled behind a stack of cobwebbed pallets, she could hear what the men were saying.
“Who are you working with?” the tall guy asked. Molly recognized that voice from the phone, and she peered around the edge of the pallets, trying to get a glimpse of his face. The sliver of his
profile was of little help in identifying him, but the familiarity of his form and that voice itched at the back of her brain.
“I told you.” Even though John’s voice was rough and nasally from what looked like a broken nose, hearing it sent shaky relief through Molly’s entire body. “I work by myself. Why would I want to split the bounty?”
“Liar,” Sonny spat out, and Molly barely kept herself from surging from her hiding place to tackle him. The explosive-loving bastard was the reason they were here in the first place, the reason John was trapped and hurt. Sheer willpower kept her still, but she vowed that she’d drag Sonny back to jail if it was the last thing she did. “You and that nosy bitch were working together. I saw you at Dutch’s.”
John scoffed, the sound wet from the blood that ran from his nose over his mouth. “We don’t work together. She tries to steal my skips, that’s all.”
“If she’s your rival,” the tall man said, “why were you at her house?”
As he asked the question, he turned his head, glancing at the shorter man next to him. When she saw his full profile, Molly froze in shock, her skin washing cold and then hot again.
Detective Bastien!
I knew I didn’t like that weasel, Molly thought as her shock faded and determination took its place. She didn’t dare text from her hiding spot. It was too close, and it’d be too easy for a flash from the screen to catch one of the guys’ attention.
“Haven’t you heard?” John grinned, but it was a macabre sight with his swollen mouth and blood coating his teeth. “You’re supposed to keep your enemies closer.”
“Can we just kill him and get on with it?” The shorter man next to Bastien spoke for the first time, sounding bored. “I have other things to do tonight.”
“I want to know how he heard about this meeting first,” Bastien said. “You don’t have to stick around for that, though. Let’s just do the transfer and be done.”
