Bait

by Samantha Keith

  The line connected and rang in his ear.

  Boom!

  No!

  Sweat leaked from his armpits and down his sides. His jaw quivered and his footsteps halted. No, it couldn’t be. They’d gotten out. How? He couldn’t let them see him yet. Not until he gathered his bearings and came up with another plan. He darted down the alleyway and skirted behind his and Riley’s house, entering in the backyard. He dropped onto the step and lowered his head to his hands, sucking in deep, ragged breaths of air.

  Heat and smoke radiated across the backyard, crowding out his focus. He had to think. The fire department and police would be here any minute. It’d look really strange if he hadn’t come out to see what had happened. He lifted the hem of his shirt, rubbed the sweat from his brow and face and then lifted his glasses to do the same around his eyes.

  He could do this.

  It was just like every other encounter with the police. Only now, Ethan wasn’t gone. His plan had failed and he’d still be looking for Riley. He pressed his palms into his knees and stood, rounding the house and toward the front where Ethan and Nate stood on the sidewalk.

  Both men swiveled to him as he approached.

  “Are you guys all right? What the hell happened?” He kept his tone shocked and adjusted his hat to survey the flaming house. Ethan closed the distance between them, his gaze like hot lasers. Black soot coated his tanned skin and his electric blue eyes burned into him.

  It was all Michael could do not to take a step back. He had to tread carefully.

  “Yeah, my house blew up.”

  Michael mumbled a curse. “Jesus, it’s a good thing you weren’t inside. We should probably alert the neighborhood, get everyone to clear out until they find out—”

  Ethan’s shoulders bunched, his body radiating rage. “Something happen to your cheek?”

  Michael touched the gauze with his fingertips. “Ah, that. I was out fishing early this morning and caught a hook in the cheek from a friend’s line. I’m lucky, it came pretty darn close to my eye.”

  Ethan’s top lip lifted skeptically. “That so?” He looked back at his friend who moved closer to them. “That’s funny. You see, I’ve heard you don’t have many friends. A successful dental practice yes, but friends? I think that’s a stretch.”

  Michael’s fingers twitched at his sides. Riley had been telling the truth, the bastard was on to him.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Ethan took another step forward; his shoe stepped on Michael’s bare toes exposed through his sandal. He didn’t pull away.

  “Riley is missing, Dr. Ball. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

  Michael let his jaw go slack. He stepped away, and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Riley? Oh my goodness. I hope she’s all right. I haven’t—”

  A patrol car pulled up, its lights going but the siren off. Joe and another officer stepped out of the car.

  Michael’s heart stopped.

  Chapter 25

  “This is bullshit.” Ethan paced on the grass while Michael ascended the stairs to his apartment. Heat spread through him like fire had from his house. His gut twisted and his hands clenched into fists as he brushed past Nate, climbed the porch steps, and flung the door to Riley’s house open. The property next door was crawling with firefighters, they’d cut off the gas connection so the area was no longer a threat. Nate came in behind him and closed the door. Nate’s hand curled around Ethan’s elbow.

  “We need to get a warrant. It’s tough without having any grounds other than your instinct and the fact that he’s her neighbor.”

  Ethan twisted out of Nate’s hold. “It’s him, dude. I know it.”

  “Look, I made the call—”

  “And Riley could be fucking dead by the time you get the warrant. You know that as well as I do.”

  The muscle in Nate’s jaw jumped. He let out a growl and paced the foyer. “Look, I’m bound by legalities—you know how that is. I won’t stop you from kicking his door in or beating the shit out of him.”

  Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. Urgency made the muscles in his back twitch. “You wouldn’t have stopped me anyway.”

  Nate closed his eyes on a breath. “I get it, all right? It’s the middle of the day. Someone had to have seen something, so let the cops do their routine. Will you show me those damn bugs already?”

  Ethan nodded and waved his hand behind him. Nate followed. “Don’t say anything else about Michael.” His voice dropped low as the floors squeaked beneath their feet. “There aren’t any bugs out here but there’s one in the kitchen and the others are in the bedroom.” He didn’t need Michael getting more spooked than he was. As it stood, Ethan had already put Riley in danger by losing his cool.

  They stepped into Riley’s bedroom and a chill in the air arced over his skin. “I feel so damn close to her in here,” he mumbled. Nate immediately skulked around the room, his gaze focused on every nook and cranny.

  Ethan jerked his head and pointed above the bed. Nate took three steps across the floor and stepped up onto the mattress to get a better view of the camera. He snorted and jumped down.

  “That sick fuck,” he breathed.

  Ethan raised his index finger to his lips. He moved past Nate and stopped at the end table where the audio bug sat on the lampshade. He plucked it off, and held it tightly in his palm. He left the room, dropped it into a drawer in the kitchen, and then returned to Riley’s bedroom.

  “No need for him to hear everything we say,” Ethan said. His biceps flexed as his fingers fell to crack his knuckles. “You got a switchblade?” He hopped up onto the bed, his gaze instantly found the small black lens.

  “Course. You don’t?” He pulled one from his back pocket and passed it to Ethan. He flicked the blade open, his fingers moved easily over the steel.

  “I don’t carry one as often as I should.” He jabbed the blade into the ceiling, dust and plaster littered his face and sprinkled onto the bed. He peeled the chunks away until the cord from the camera was visible. He yanked it out of the ceiling and pulled it down.

  “Huh. It’s an old school cord?”

  Ethan let the camera hang, drove his fist into the hole, and peeled down large sections of ceiling.

  “I need a flashlight.”

  “I’m glad one of us is prepared.” Nate pulled his keys out and turned on the penlight that hung from the ring. Ethan grunted and took the keys, and then shone it into the hole. Bingo. The cord disappeared in a small hole of the subfloor above—directly into Michael’s unit.

  A cold sweat broke out at the back of his neck between his shoulder blades. The acid in his stomach curdled. He clenched his hand into a fist, and tossed the keys to Nate, nearly hitting him in the face.

  “It’s connected to his unit.”

  “Well that was easy. I’ll—”

  “No need.” Ethan stormed passed Nate and down the hallway. His footsteps pounded on the floors. He closed his hand over the door handle and flung it open. Nate called to him, but his words didn’t penetrate the rushing of blood through his head. He’d kill him. And there was nothing Nate or anyone could do to stop him. He pulled his Glock from the waistband at his back as he charged up the wooden steps to Michael’s apartment two at a time. Smoke still lingered in the air and the shouts from the working firemen fell around him. He stopped in front of the door, took a step backward on the small landing, and stomped his foot into the wood.

  It shot open with sickening ease. Splinters danced through the air and the door bounced on its hinges. Ethan stepped inside.

  Michael came down the hall, his eyes sharp, and his face tense. “What the hell—”

  Ethan concealed his Glock at the small of his back and sprinted across the room. Michael’s hands rose in the air and the blood drained from his face. He stumbled backward
in an effort to escape. Ethan fisted his hand into Michael’s shirt, lifted him off the ground, and slammed his back against the wall. Michael’s eyes bugged out of his head. His hands clawed at Ethan’s wrists. Ethan pulled him a few inches away from the wall, let him dangle in the air, and then banged him against the drywall. Michael’s head flung back and the wall cracked above his head. Michael closed his eyes and grunted.

  “I’m going to ask you this once before I tear your fucking lungs out. Where is she?” A deep calm settled through him. He had the bastard now and he’d beat the answers out of him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  “Don’t lie.” Ethan’s voice raised an octave. The calm that had fallen around him shook. His fist tightened at Michael’s throat. He leaned closer so his nose hovered an inch away from Michael’s. “I found your cameras you dumb shit.”

  “Look, I don’t know anything about any cameras. I’m a dentist and the furthest thing from tech savvy.”

  “Then why are the cameras wired through your floor?”

  “I don’t know, I swear. I’m not the only one who’s lived here. Check with the landlord if you don’t believe me.”

  Ethan’s breath came out slow and even. His fury dipped. There was a possibility—a very small one—that he was telling the truth.

  “Want to have a look around? I don’t care. I won’t ask for a warrant or anything.” Michael’s small, beady eyes never left his face. Ethan’s neck tensed.

  He didn’t believe in coincidences. Michael had taken Riley and with the camera and bugs, they had enough proof to get a warrant. With that, they could pull his phone records including GPS locations and search his business.

  He dropped Michael to his feet. Michael swallowed, took a deep breath, and his hand rubbed his throat.

  “I want to help find Riley, believe me—”

  “Save it.” Ethan brushed past him.

  Nate whistled from the door. “Hope you don’t mind if I give him a hand.” A gun hung loosely in his fingers and his gaze swept around the floor. Ethan nodded his appreciation at him and pulled his Glock out again.

  “There’s no need for weapons.” Michael shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hand rubbed over the top of his short brown hair.

  Yeah, right. There was no way in hell he was letting his guard down. Ethan lifted an eyebrow at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He moved away from Michael and stepped into the kitchen. He trailed his hand along the counter top. He glanced back at Michael, whose attention was riveted to Nate as he combed over the living room.

  Ethan’s gaze fell to the floor. A long, sharp butcher knife lay on the linoleum. Warning bells screeched through his head. He forced his breath to slow, and bent down. He didn’t touch it.

  “Drop a knife?”

  Michael’s eyes snapped to Ethan, and then dropped to the knife on the floor.

  “I must have…”

  Ethan stood. “Right.” His voice hovered on hysteria and the muscles in his face tensed. Riley had been here. His senses tingled. He turned on his heel and stormed down the hallway.

  “Riley!” he called. One bedroom sat at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. He shoved it open. The bed took up the center of the room, its neat dark blue bedding the only splash of color among the white walls and off-white carpet.

  “Goddammit,” he breathed. She wasn’t here. He got down on his hands and knees and peered under the bed—nothing but a simple pair of slippers.

  A soft whine sounded. His head shot up and his breath caught in his throat. He froze, his pulse drummed against his temples.

  It sounded again. He got to his feet and pulled open the bi-fold closet door. A dog came out, swirling around his feet. He whined again. Ethan dropped to his knee and scratched him behind the ears. The long-haired chow huddled close to his leg.

  “Hey, buddy. What were you doing in the closet?” Sad, big brown eyes stared up at him. His tongue came out to lick Ethan’s hand. “Can you tell me where she is, bud?” Ethan’s voice shook. His eyes burned and pain throbbed across his forehead.

  The dog stood on all fours, shook his ears until Ethan stopped petting him, and whined again. Ethan frowned. He guided the dog away from the door with the back of his hand and leaned in. Dress shirts of various neutral colors lined the rod above his head, and dress slacks hung on the bottom row.

  Nothing.

  “Dammit.”

  “Anything?” Nate stuck his head through the open door. His gun held firmly in his hand, but lowered to his side.

  Ethan got to his feet. Dread spiraled through him. He wiped his chin with his hand. “No. Just found this guy hiding in the closet.”

  “I would be too if I had to live with that creep. We should go talk to the cops, I got some pictures of a few things but I’ll show you outside.” Nate gestured to the hallway. Ethan didn’t move.

  “I want to have a word with him before we go.” He opened and closed his hand at his side, his other hand tightened on the trigger of his Glock.

  Nate’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re going to fuck him up, aren’t you?”

  “If you don’t want to watch—”

  Nate snorted. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  The corner of Ethan’s mouth lifted. Man, he had good friends. He followed Nate out of the bedroom. He stopped at the bathroom but again, it was clear. Michael waited with his arms crossed over his chest, his back pressed against the kitchen counter.

  “I see you didn’t find what you were looking for.” A muscle in Michael’s jaw twitched. Ethan’s stride quickened as he crossed the kitchen. Michael threw his hands out in front of him. Ethan closed his hand around his windpipe and gave him a shake.

  “Listen up, Dr. Ball. I know you took Riley, and I know you did something with Hanna.” He raised his gun and pressed it to Michael’s temple. His breath hissed out through his teeth. A tiny cut, barely visible, peeked out from Michael’s bottom lip. Riley had gotten in some good shots—but that didn’t reassure him.

  “The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I don’t know where she is. But that won’t stop me from pulling the trigger. I can put a dozen bullets in you before it becomes life threatening, and eventually, you’ll talk. Trust me.” A bead of sweat rolled over his temple despite the air conditioning.

  Michael’s eyes seared into Ethan’s. His brown irises were nearly black—dead. This close to him, Ethan’s instinct grew stronger. Hate and satisfaction emanated from Michael’s thin body. The lines around his eyes crinkled, but smug determination etched the plains of his face. A hint of amusement sparked the dark shallows of his eyes.

  “You think so?” The words were faint, barely loud enough for Ethan to hear. But he had. Rage shook through him.

  “You motherfucker.” He bent Michael over the counter and ground the mouth of his Glock against his temple until his hand ached. “Where is she?” His voice boomed throughout the small space. Michael kept his hands beside his ears.

  “I don’t know what—”

  He flipped the gun over in his palm and beat the butt of it against Michael’s skull. He cried out, and yelled something unintelligible. Ethan did it again. This time, the thin skin at his head split.

  “Dammit—”

  “I can do this all day, Dr. Ball. Thing is, I don’t think you can. Looks like Riley already gave you a beating.” He tossed his gun in the air and caught it in his hand, this time the mouth of it pointed a Michael. “You have five seconds before I shoot out your kneecaps.”

  “I don’t know any—”

  “One.” Ethan’s voice was steady. His fingers itched for the moment he’d get to pull the trigger. “Two…”

  “Would you—”

  “Three—”

  “Ethan, drop your weapon!” A voice echoed through the air. Michael exhaled on a sig
h, his body going limp in Ethan’s hold.

  Ethan’s hand shook and the Glock tapped against Michael’s head with unspent rage. His gaze lifted from Michael. Joe and three officers stood in the open doorway. He didn’t back down. Nate’s hand closed over his shoulder.

  “Come on, dude. Drop it.” Then low, so only Ethan could hear, “We got this.”

  Ethan’s grip tightened on Michael’s throat until he thrashed for air. He lifted the gun, pointing it at the ceiling.

  “Back away, Ethan.” Joe cautioned as he took a step into the apartment, his gun trained on him. This was fucking bullshit. He shoved Michael away and straightened. His teeth cut into his tongue and blood spread through his mouth. His hands hung at his sides, his shoulders hunched as he approached Joe.

  Every urge in his body told him to put them in their place and finish with Michael. But he didn’t need to get shot. If it came down to it, he’d kill everyone who stood in his way of finding Riley. But he couldn’t get himself killed before he found her.

  “You’re making a big fucking mistake.” The words vibrated in his throat. Joe’s jaw tensed as Ethan brushed past him and shoved his way through the officers. Nate followed close behind.

  He shut and locked the front door of Riley’s house, his head pressed against the wood. Nate paced down the hall, his phone pressed to his ear as he shouted orders for the warrant to come in. His words didn’t register with Ethan. He was stuck. Every minute that ticked by weighed him down.

  Ethan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, but didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?” he barked.

  “Ethan, it’s Jenny.” Her voice raised an octave. “What’s going on?”

  Ethan cursed. “She’s gone.” The words slowed his heart, and his chest tightened.

  “Oh my god.” Her voice trembled. “Have you—”

  “I’m doing everything I can. I know who has her, but the cops won’t let me near him. They’re at his house and just made me leave.”