Faceless (Sinister Secrets Book 2), page 9
To top it off, she was quiet. Monosyllabic answer quiet.
He rolled back his chair. “You sure there isn’t something you want to tell me?”
She jumped, knocking over her coffee and sending the brown liquid streaming across the desk.
He grabbed a stack of tissues and crossed to help her mop up the mess.
“Sorry.” Pink circled her cheeks. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“How come?”
Not that it was really any of his business, but as her friend, he was concerned. As her supervisor, he needed her at full capacity.
Which she clearly was not.
“OPR is investigating me and my… Mitch… is… I don’t know.” She scooped up the sopping tissues and threw them into the trashcan with unusual force. “Mitch found me yesterday.”
What?
One look at her face told him he’d heard her correctly. “And you’re just now telling me?”
How could she keep this from him? After all their discussions about honesty, all her promises to be forthcoming, she kept something like this secret? Did she really think he’d never learn about it?
“I know.” She squirted some hand sanitizer on her hands, probably to try to get rid of the stickiness from the coffee. “It was at the coffee shop and he was long gone, so there wasn’t anything you could have done. I needed time to process it.”
Processing or not, she should have told him. Immediately. Didn’t she realize the impact something like this could have on her career?
Not to mention their friendship?
Leave it. What was done was done. She’d made her choice – right or wrong, it no longer mattered.
“What did he say?” In spite of his even tone, she looked at him. Seeing straight through him, no doubt. It was a little unnerving how she did that.
“I’m sorry, Dak. I know I should have told you, but… you don’t know how it feels.”
No, he didn’t. And he thanked God for that.
“He said he wanted to explain and that he was being watched. He seemed scared.” She pursed her lips briefly. “He said he knew who took Jason Boggess, but didn’t know why. He didn’t get to say anything more because he saw someone and took off.”
Could he believe her? He desperately wanted to, but so many questions remained. “How did he find you there?”
“He’d hired a PI to watch me.” She shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure what to make of that. I would have noticed a tail.”
“Maybe the PI dug into your financials and found the coffee shop that way.”
“Maybe.” She hesitated before lifting her eyes to meet his. “Mitch said he would stop by my house last night to talk.”
His breath froze in his lungs.
She’d done it this time. He’d have to report her to OPR. OPR had been crystal clear. Report all contact. Not only had she failed to report the initial contact, she’d failed to report one she’d known about in advance!
She’d probably be put on administrative leave pending the investigation.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice, higher pitched than usual, pleaded with him to understand. “He said he wouldn’t show if anyone else was there. I was going to text you the second he arrived. You have to believe me.”
“Why should I?” He dropped his voice so that the conversation wouldn’t carry beyond the walls around them. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Well, he didn’t show anyway. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because on some level, I think I knew he’d flake out. Just like he always does.”
“That’s no excuse. Full disclosure. That’s how this team works.” And she knew it. She’d known it from day one, when she’d waltzed into that hostage negotiation and broken every rule in the book.
She stood abruptly, efficiently dodged him as she rounded the desk, and closed the office door. As she turned back to him, fire flashed from her eyes. “You want full disclosure? I wanted five minutes alone with him. Wanted him to explain the last thirty-five years and why he never came back.”
The irritation leaked from him like air from a punctured tire.
She flung her arm wildly. “He’s probably going to jail when we catch him. He’s an accomplice to kidnapping at the very least. I wanted him to tell me why he left. Without a bunch of other people hearing it, too.”
It made sense. While he didn’t agree with her decision, he could understand why she’d made it.
She pulled in a long breath and seemed to calm down. “I knew if I told you, you’d have to report it. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to put you in that position.”
The end justified the means, as it always did in her mind.
“And if you had to do it over again?” Why he asked, he wasn’t sure. He already knew he wouldn’t like the answer.
She hesitated. “I stand by my decision.”
It wasn’t personal. He tried to remind himself of that, even as the words sliced through him.
After eight months with no issues, he’d really thought she respected the team rules.
Share your story.
The words pierced his mind as if spoken by an unheard voice. It was a voice he knew well, one he felt compelled to follow.
A sour taste lingered in his mouth and his neck and shoulders tensed.
The story.
He tried not to think about it. Ever.
Yet it was always there.
He could still smell the gunpowder. Feel the breeze on his skin. Hear the deafening barrage of gunfire.
Some things never went away.
And now, the Holy Spirit called him to relive it yet again.
He collapsed into the closest chair, his body slumping as if his muscles had disintegrated and his bones were made of twigs. “Have you heard why transparency is so important to me?”
While he knew he hadn’t told her, it was possible she’d heard about it. His brother Caiden may have mentioned it. Or Sid. They both knew.
Kevyn stilled, her attention fixated on him. With slow movements, she leaned on the edge of her desk, bracing her palms against the faux-wood finish. “No. I thought it had to do with your religion.”
“That’s part of it, sure. But there’s a…” He exhaled a breath that vibrated through his chest. “There’s another reason.”
How was it that now, almost fifteen years after it had happened, he still struggled to talk about it?
Kevyn said nothing. Just waited with an unnatural stillness for him to continue.
“I was nearing the end of my second tour with the Navy. I was SWCC.”
Her eyebrows knit together.
Yeah. She probably wouldn’t know what that was. Most civilians didn’t. “Special Warfare Combatant Craft Crewman. We were trained to provide sea support to special ops, mostly SEALs, on covert missions.”
The confusion vanished and she nodded, indicating for him to continue.
Not that he really wanted to, but there was no going back now. “There were three of us from SWCC. One to captain and two to watch for and respond to threats. We were escorting an eight-man SEAL team on an extraction mission. The U.S. ambassador to Yemen had been visiting an unstable region to check-in on some humanitarian aid efforts when he’d been abducted by the Yemen Liberationist Army, a group of rebel soldiers seeking to set up their own political regime. One of their generals had a mansion on the coast and our intel indicated that was where they were holding the ambassador.”
He could still see the house, silhouetted dramatically in the darkness. No light, just the occasional bob of a flashlight beam from guards making their rounds. With everyone sleeping, it should have been a routine extraction.
Until Simon Winters had gone rogue.
“The SEALs deployed. My team remained in the boat per protocol. The SEALs found the ambassador, then one SEAL, a guy named Winters, decided he wanted to go after the general.”
Sweat snaked between his shoulder blades as a weight rivaling a corpse crushed his lungs.
“The mission was simple. Extraction. Do not engage unless necessary. Winters… I don’t know if he wanted the acclaim of taking down the general or what he was thinking, but he convinced one other SEAL to back him up. Then they went after the general.”
The corners of Kevyn’s eyes dipped. A curled fist rested against her collarbone as she watched him, surely suspecting what was coming next.
“I knew something was wrong when I heard the machine guns. It sounded like a whole army of them. Winters was grazed on his thigh and arm, but he managed to get out. His fellow SEAL wasn’t so lucky.”
His breathing quickened and the air felt depleted of oxygen.
“Somehow Winters made it back to the boat before the rest of the SEALs and the ambassador. By this time, the enemy was awake and actively trying to take us out. I manned one of our guns and my SWCC brother took another. Winters made it aboard and got behind the gun next to mine. We started laying down cover for the remaining six SEALs and the ambassador as they ran toward the boat.”
White knuckles pressed against Kevyn’s chest as her body went rigid.
“I don’t know if he slipped or what happened. But Winters was covering his team and his gunfire got too close. Took down two SEALs and the ambassador.”
Fire burned his throat. He could still see the men sprawled on the ground, still see the other SEALs stopping amid the heavy enemy fire to hoist their fallen brothers and the ambassador.
Never leave a man behind.
“We went home with three bodies that day. The fourth, the guy who backed up Winters, was never recovered.”
Eight
Kevyn tried to wrap her mind around the trauma Dak had shared.
While she’d never been in the military, or part of such an elite group, she knew they were tight. Loyalty ran deep. Failure cut deeper.
“When we got back to base and debriefed, Winters told everyone that I had been the one to kill the SEALs and the ambassador. I think he was trying to save face, but the captain saw the whole thing. He saw Winters lose control of his weapon. Saw Winters’ reaction to firing the fatal shots. Ballistics proved that the fatal rounds came from his weapon.”
A gray hue tinged Dak’s face and his jaw worked.
“I was cleared, but the stigma remained. I finished my tour, then got out. And all because of one man.”
Deception always brought back a slew of bad memories. This time, she was to blame. “I’m sorry.”
A single dip of his head acknowledged her apology. “Winters’ duplicity almost eliminated my team and his team. It resulted in the deaths of four other people. Permanently impacted the hundreds of family members and friends those people had. That’s why I hate dishonesty.”
Part of her wanted to argue that what she’d done was nothing like that. She hadn’t lied – she’d just not told him everything.
But wasn’t that the same as passive lying?
Whatever she called it, she hadn’t hurt anyone. Except maybe herself. It was a completely different scenario.
Dak speared her with his dark eyes, the intensity compelling her to hold his gaze. “It takes me a long time to trust someone once trust is broken.”
Fire raced through her core.
She’d broken that trust. Not once, but twice.
Worse, she hadn’t only betrayed her supervisor. She’d betrayed her friend.
Pressure built in her chest.
Of all the people in her life, Dak had always dealt straight. It was one of the things she admired most about him.
So why was it so hard for her to reciprocate that honesty?
“I get it.” She struggled to swallow. “I didn’t think that not telling you was the same as lying. I… I still don’t. But I understand why full disclosure is so important now and I promise you’ll have it from this point out.”
A sense of déjà vu settled over her.
She’d said something like this before, right after she joined the team. She’d failed to live up to her promise, but she’d do better going forward.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, effectively avoiding eye contact. “I hope so.”
Damage from the past was compounded by damage she’d inflicted.
While he had every reason to doubt her now, she’d make sure he never did again. No matter what, she’d repair the broken trust.
“You need to go to OPR.” Dak’s voice jerked her back. “It’s better if Caldwell hears about this from you.”
“I was going to. I wanted to tell you first.”
“And I appreciate it.”
Even if the underlying hurt was still there. He didn’t say it, but she could see it in his eyes.
“I’ll do that now.” She pushed up from the edge of her desk and offered what she hoped was a lighthearted grin. “And if I don’t get suspended, I’ll be back soon.”
Dak didn’t return the smile, but nodded his agreement.
Weight settled across her shoulders as she left the office. While she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with Caldwell, the weight had little to do with the OPR agent. Or the possible repercussions of her actions. She could handle all that.
What really bothered her was the way she’d hurt Dak.
Rarely did he display such vulnerability, but today he’d completely let down his guard, something she’d forced him to do by looking out for herself.
Well, no more.
Dak always put the team – and her – above himself. It was time for her to follow that example.
No matter the personal cost.
₪ ₪ ₪
Had it been a day yet?
Mitch paced across the sparsely furnished prison and tried the door. Again.
Still locked. Not that he’d expected anything else.
His gaze roved the room that was his temporary home.
Maybe permanent home. At this point, he really wasn’t sure.
Only two doors. One led to a little bathroom, the other to freedom.
Only one was unlocked.
It was like a tiny, windowless studio apartment. A bed on one wall, sofa and coffee table, and short counter bookended by a sink and fridge. The microwave was bolted to the counter, leaving only a few feet of usable counter space.
He’d gone through the kitchenette’s cabinets. No knives, obviously. Only plastic sporks. Not exactly a formidable weapon.
Paper plates, no pans. The microwave didn’t even have a glass plate on the bottom.
There was nothing in here he could use as a weapon.
Even the TV was embedded into the wall.
The fridge and cupboards were stocked with some staples, so he wouldn’t starve, not right away anyway.
Something told him that Tio kept this apartment stocked and ready at all times.
Why, he wasn’t sure. Part of him didn’t really want to know.
After his run-in with Tio last night, Zane had brought him here, to the warehouse with the purposefully dilapidated appearance.
Once they’d brought him inside, he saw how deceptive the exterior really was. The interior boasted sheetrock on the walls, finished floors, and decorative light fixtures.
It looked more like a house or office than an old dockside warehouse.
They’d led him past a number of closed doors and into an elevator, then taken him to the third – and top – floor.
He hadn’t heard a sound since being left here. No voices, doors closing, water running… nothing.
Either he was the only person in the building or this place was seriously soundproofed.
He didn’t want to think about why they’d need to soundproof a building so effectively.
Dropping onto the sofa, he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels.
This whole thing was weird.
Why would Tio go to the trouble, not to mention expense, of buying this old warehouse, massively renovating the inside, and building at least one apartment? With cable! The TV even had cable.
But no windows or sunlight.
Funny how he’d always taken those things for granted.
While he didn’t know what Tio was thinking long-term, he wasn’t placing odds on living out a full life.
No, Tio was probably only keeping him around until their current shipments cleared. Once they did, well, his future was about as shaky as a raft in a hurricane.
Which meant he had about two weeks to figure out a way out of this prison.
Less, if Tio could come up with a way to do this without him.
Worse, no one was even looking for him. Kevyn probably wasn’t too surprised that he didn’t show last night. Maybe had even expected it. She wouldn’t sound any kind of alarm.
If he was going to survive, he’d have to figure a way out himself. There was no other option.
His strength fled and he hunched over, cradling his head in his hands.
Years of only looking out for himself had left him completely and utterly alone.
₪ ₪ ₪
It didn’t add up.
Dak hung up the phone and stared at it, his mind replaying the conversation with the mayor.
Still no ransom demand. No word from the kidnappers at all, in fact.
Why had Noelle Orson’s kidnappers immediately demanded a ransom when there’d been no demand on either Boggess or Andrews?
Only two good options came to mind. Either Boggess and Andrews hadn’t survived the abduction or they were looking at two different kidnappers.
He had trouble believing there’d be a second set of kidnappers active right now.
Unless the second set was a copycat.
Movement at the doorway caught his eye.
Kevyn.
“How’d it go?”
The conversation with OPR had taken a little longer than he’d expected. Which could be good or bad.
Her smile lacked its usual luster. “Well, he wasn’t happy, but he didn’t suspend me.”
That was good. Meant that he likely believed her.
Or maybe he didn’t think he had enough ammunition to bury her yet.
He’d hope for the former. Either way, he could use her on this case. “Good. I called Mayor Boggess.”
She took a chair opposite him and leaned in. “Has he heard from the kidnappers?”
“Not a word.”
He rolled back his chair. “You sure there isn’t something you want to tell me?”
She jumped, knocking over her coffee and sending the brown liquid streaming across the desk.
He grabbed a stack of tissues and crossed to help her mop up the mess.
“Sorry.” Pink circled her cheeks. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“How come?”
Not that it was really any of his business, but as her friend, he was concerned. As her supervisor, he needed her at full capacity.
Which she clearly was not.
“OPR is investigating me and my… Mitch… is… I don’t know.” She scooped up the sopping tissues and threw them into the trashcan with unusual force. “Mitch found me yesterday.”
What?
One look at her face told him he’d heard her correctly. “And you’re just now telling me?”
How could she keep this from him? After all their discussions about honesty, all her promises to be forthcoming, she kept something like this secret? Did she really think he’d never learn about it?
“I know.” She squirted some hand sanitizer on her hands, probably to try to get rid of the stickiness from the coffee. “It was at the coffee shop and he was long gone, so there wasn’t anything you could have done. I needed time to process it.”
Processing or not, she should have told him. Immediately. Didn’t she realize the impact something like this could have on her career?
Not to mention their friendship?
Leave it. What was done was done. She’d made her choice – right or wrong, it no longer mattered.
“What did he say?” In spite of his even tone, she looked at him. Seeing straight through him, no doubt. It was a little unnerving how she did that.
“I’m sorry, Dak. I know I should have told you, but… you don’t know how it feels.”
No, he didn’t. And he thanked God for that.
“He said he wanted to explain and that he was being watched. He seemed scared.” She pursed her lips briefly. “He said he knew who took Jason Boggess, but didn’t know why. He didn’t get to say anything more because he saw someone and took off.”
Could he believe her? He desperately wanted to, but so many questions remained. “How did he find you there?”
“He’d hired a PI to watch me.” She shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure what to make of that. I would have noticed a tail.”
“Maybe the PI dug into your financials and found the coffee shop that way.”
“Maybe.” She hesitated before lifting her eyes to meet his. “Mitch said he would stop by my house last night to talk.”
His breath froze in his lungs.
She’d done it this time. He’d have to report her to OPR. OPR had been crystal clear. Report all contact. Not only had she failed to report the initial contact, she’d failed to report one she’d known about in advance!
She’d probably be put on administrative leave pending the investigation.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice, higher pitched than usual, pleaded with him to understand. “He said he wouldn’t show if anyone else was there. I was going to text you the second he arrived. You have to believe me.”
“Why should I?” He dropped his voice so that the conversation wouldn’t carry beyond the walls around them. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Well, he didn’t show anyway. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because on some level, I think I knew he’d flake out. Just like he always does.”
“That’s no excuse. Full disclosure. That’s how this team works.” And she knew it. She’d known it from day one, when she’d waltzed into that hostage negotiation and broken every rule in the book.
She stood abruptly, efficiently dodged him as she rounded the desk, and closed the office door. As she turned back to him, fire flashed from her eyes. “You want full disclosure? I wanted five minutes alone with him. Wanted him to explain the last thirty-five years and why he never came back.”
The irritation leaked from him like air from a punctured tire.
She flung her arm wildly. “He’s probably going to jail when we catch him. He’s an accomplice to kidnapping at the very least. I wanted him to tell me why he left. Without a bunch of other people hearing it, too.”
It made sense. While he didn’t agree with her decision, he could understand why she’d made it.
She pulled in a long breath and seemed to calm down. “I knew if I told you, you’d have to report it. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to put you in that position.”
The end justified the means, as it always did in her mind.
“And if you had to do it over again?” Why he asked, he wasn’t sure. He already knew he wouldn’t like the answer.
She hesitated. “I stand by my decision.”
It wasn’t personal. He tried to remind himself of that, even as the words sliced through him.
After eight months with no issues, he’d really thought she respected the team rules.
Share your story.
The words pierced his mind as if spoken by an unheard voice. It was a voice he knew well, one he felt compelled to follow.
A sour taste lingered in his mouth and his neck and shoulders tensed.
The story.
He tried not to think about it. Ever.
Yet it was always there.
He could still smell the gunpowder. Feel the breeze on his skin. Hear the deafening barrage of gunfire.
Some things never went away.
And now, the Holy Spirit called him to relive it yet again.
He collapsed into the closest chair, his body slumping as if his muscles had disintegrated and his bones were made of twigs. “Have you heard why transparency is so important to me?”
While he knew he hadn’t told her, it was possible she’d heard about it. His brother Caiden may have mentioned it. Or Sid. They both knew.
Kevyn stilled, her attention fixated on him. With slow movements, she leaned on the edge of her desk, bracing her palms against the faux-wood finish. “No. I thought it had to do with your religion.”
“That’s part of it, sure. But there’s a…” He exhaled a breath that vibrated through his chest. “There’s another reason.”
How was it that now, almost fifteen years after it had happened, he still struggled to talk about it?
Kevyn said nothing. Just waited with an unnatural stillness for him to continue.
“I was nearing the end of my second tour with the Navy. I was SWCC.”
Her eyebrows knit together.
Yeah. She probably wouldn’t know what that was. Most civilians didn’t. “Special Warfare Combatant Craft Crewman. We were trained to provide sea support to special ops, mostly SEALs, on covert missions.”
The confusion vanished and she nodded, indicating for him to continue.
Not that he really wanted to, but there was no going back now. “There were three of us from SWCC. One to captain and two to watch for and respond to threats. We were escorting an eight-man SEAL team on an extraction mission. The U.S. ambassador to Yemen had been visiting an unstable region to check-in on some humanitarian aid efforts when he’d been abducted by the Yemen Liberationist Army, a group of rebel soldiers seeking to set up their own political regime. One of their generals had a mansion on the coast and our intel indicated that was where they were holding the ambassador.”
He could still see the house, silhouetted dramatically in the darkness. No light, just the occasional bob of a flashlight beam from guards making their rounds. With everyone sleeping, it should have been a routine extraction.
Until Simon Winters had gone rogue.
“The SEALs deployed. My team remained in the boat per protocol. The SEALs found the ambassador, then one SEAL, a guy named Winters, decided he wanted to go after the general.”
Sweat snaked between his shoulder blades as a weight rivaling a corpse crushed his lungs.
“The mission was simple. Extraction. Do not engage unless necessary. Winters… I don’t know if he wanted the acclaim of taking down the general or what he was thinking, but he convinced one other SEAL to back him up. Then they went after the general.”
The corners of Kevyn’s eyes dipped. A curled fist rested against her collarbone as she watched him, surely suspecting what was coming next.
“I knew something was wrong when I heard the machine guns. It sounded like a whole army of them. Winters was grazed on his thigh and arm, but he managed to get out. His fellow SEAL wasn’t so lucky.”
His breathing quickened and the air felt depleted of oxygen.
“Somehow Winters made it back to the boat before the rest of the SEALs and the ambassador. By this time, the enemy was awake and actively trying to take us out. I manned one of our guns and my SWCC brother took another. Winters made it aboard and got behind the gun next to mine. We started laying down cover for the remaining six SEALs and the ambassador as they ran toward the boat.”
White knuckles pressed against Kevyn’s chest as her body went rigid.
“I don’t know if he slipped or what happened. But Winters was covering his team and his gunfire got too close. Took down two SEALs and the ambassador.”
Fire burned his throat. He could still see the men sprawled on the ground, still see the other SEALs stopping amid the heavy enemy fire to hoist their fallen brothers and the ambassador.
Never leave a man behind.
“We went home with three bodies that day. The fourth, the guy who backed up Winters, was never recovered.”
Eight
Kevyn tried to wrap her mind around the trauma Dak had shared.
While she’d never been in the military, or part of such an elite group, she knew they were tight. Loyalty ran deep. Failure cut deeper.
“When we got back to base and debriefed, Winters told everyone that I had been the one to kill the SEALs and the ambassador. I think he was trying to save face, but the captain saw the whole thing. He saw Winters lose control of his weapon. Saw Winters’ reaction to firing the fatal shots. Ballistics proved that the fatal rounds came from his weapon.”
A gray hue tinged Dak’s face and his jaw worked.
“I was cleared, but the stigma remained. I finished my tour, then got out. And all because of one man.”
Deception always brought back a slew of bad memories. This time, she was to blame. “I’m sorry.”
A single dip of his head acknowledged her apology. “Winters’ duplicity almost eliminated my team and his team. It resulted in the deaths of four other people. Permanently impacted the hundreds of family members and friends those people had. That’s why I hate dishonesty.”
Part of her wanted to argue that what she’d done was nothing like that. She hadn’t lied – she’d just not told him everything.
But wasn’t that the same as passive lying?
Whatever she called it, she hadn’t hurt anyone. Except maybe herself. It was a completely different scenario.
Dak speared her with his dark eyes, the intensity compelling her to hold his gaze. “It takes me a long time to trust someone once trust is broken.”
Fire raced through her core.
She’d broken that trust. Not once, but twice.
Worse, she hadn’t only betrayed her supervisor. She’d betrayed her friend.
Pressure built in her chest.
Of all the people in her life, Dak had always dealt straight. It was one of the things she admired most about him.
So why was it so hard for her to reciprocate that honesty?
“I get it.” She struggled to swallow. “I didn’t think that not telling you was the same as lying. I… I still don’t. But I understand why full disclosure is so important now and I promise you’ll have it from this point out.”
A sense of déjà vu settled over her.
She’d said something like this before, right after she joined the team. She’d failed to live up to her promise, but she’d do better going forward.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, effectively avoiding eye contact. “I hope so.”
Damage from the past was compounded by damage she’d inflicted.
While he had every reason to doubt her now, she’d make sure he never did again. No matter what, she’d repair the broken trust.
“You need to go to OPR.” Dak’s voice jerked her back. “It’s better if Caldwell hears about this from you.”
“I was going to. I wanted to tell you first.”
“And I appreciate it.”
Even if the underlying hurt was still there. He didn’t say it, but she could see it in his eyes.
“I’ll do that now.” She pushed up from the edge of her desk and offered what she hoped was a lighthearted grin. “And if I don’t get suspended, I’ll be back soon.”
Dak didn’t return the smile, but nodded his agreement.
Weight settled across her shoulders as she left the office. While she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with Caldwell, the weight had little to do with the OPR agent. Or the possible repercussions of her actions. She could handle all that.
What really bothered her was the way she’d hurt Dak.
Rarely did he display such vulnerability, but today he’d completely let down his guard, something she’d forced him to do by looking out for herself.
Well, no more.
Dak always put the team – and her – above himself. It was time for her to follow that example.
No matter the personal cost.
₪ ₪ ₪
Had it been a day yet?
Mitch paced across the sparsely furnished prison and tried the door. Again.
Still locked. Not that he’d expected anything else.
His gaze roved the room that was his temporary home.
Maybe permanent home. At this point, he really wasn’t sure.
Only two doors. One led to a little bathroom, the other to freedom.
Only one was unlocked.
It was like a tiny, windowless studio apartment. A bed on one wall, sofa and coffee table, and short counter bookended by a sink and fridge. The microwave was bolted to the counter, leaving only a few feet of usable counter space.
He’d gone through the kitchenette’s cabinets. No knives, obviously. Only plastic sporks. Not exactly a formidable weapon.
Paper plates, no pans. The microwave didn’t even have a glass plate on the bottom.
There was nothing in here he could use as a weapon.
Even the TV was embedded into the wall.
The fridge and cupboards were stocked with some staples, so he wouldn’t starve, not right away anyway.
Something told him that Tio kept this apartment stocked and ready at all times.
Why, he wasn’t sure. Part of him didn’t really want to know.
After his run-in with Tio last night, Zane had brought him here, to the warehouse with the purposefully dilapidated appearance.
Once they’d brought him inside, he saw how deceptive the exterior really was. The interior boasted sheetrock on the walls, finished floors, and decorative light fixtures.
It looked more like a house or office than an old dockside warehouse.
They’d led him past a number of closed doors and into an elevator, then taken him to the third – and top – floor.
He hadn’t heard a sound since being left here. No voices, doors closing, water running… nothing.
Either he was the only person in the building or this place was seriously soundproofed.
He didn’t want to think about why they’d need to soundproof a building so effectively.
Dropping onto the sofa, he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels.
This whole thing was weird.
Why would Tio go to the trouble, not to mention expense, of buying this old warehouse, massively renovating the inside, and building at least one apartment? With cable! The TV even had cable.
But no windows or sunlight.
Funny how he’d always taken those things for granted.
While he didn’t know what Tio was thinking long-term, he wasn’t placing odds on living out a full life.
No, Tio was probably only keeping him around until their current shipments cleared. Once they did, well, his future was about as shaky as a raft in a hurricane.
Which meant he had about two weeks to figure out a way out of this prison.
Less, if Tio could come up with a way to do this without him.
Worse, no one was even looking for him. Kevyn probably wasn’t too surprised that he didn’t show last night. Maybe had even expected it. She wouldn’t sound any kind of alarm.
If he was going to survive, he’d have to figure a way out himself. There was no other option.
His strength fled and he hunched over, cradling his head in his hands.
Years of only looking out for himself had left him completely and utterly alone.
₪ ₪ ₪
It didn’t add up.
Dak hung up the phone and stared at it, his mind replaying the conversation with the mayor.
Still no ransom demand. No word from the kidnappers at all, in fact.
Why had Noelle Orson’s kidnappers immediately demanded a ransom when there’d been no demand on either Boggess or Andrews?
Only two good options came to mind. Either Boggess and Andrews hadn’t survived the abduction or they were looking at two different kidnappers.
He had trouble believing there’d be a second set of kidnappers active right now.
Unless the second set was a copycat.
Movement at the doorway caught his eye.
Kevyn.
“How’d it go?”
The conversation with OPR had taken a little longer than he’d expected. Which could be good or bad.
Her smile lacked its usual luster. “Well, he wasn’t happy, but he didn’t suspend me.”
That was good. Meant that he likely believed her.
Or maybe he didn’t think he had enough ammunition to bury her yet.
He’d hope for the former. Either way, he could use her on this case. “Good. I called Mayor Boggess.”
She took a chair opposite him and leaned in. “Has he heard from the kidnappers?”
“Not a word.”
