I rise, hands on the table. “Talk to me.”
Cannon is closest. He turns his phone toward me. The picture I’m staring at is bone-chilling, but the words make my heart stop.
Get your ass home, June. If you’re not here in three hours, this bitch dies in your place. If you think I’m bluffing, I’ll be happy to send you the after pics. If you call the cops, I’ll kill her before they get here. If you’re not here by the time I slit her throat, I’ll grab another bitch and off her tomorrow. One girl a day until you’re home.
The picture is of a woman tied to a chair in what I assume is Stark’s kitchen. Her mouth is duct-taped. Tears are running down her cheeks. It looks like she struggled because one eye is red and her cheek is bruised. He probably slapped her around in an effort to get her tied up.
“I’ll drive my SUV,” Cannon announces. He takes charge, and I’m grateful. This case is too close to home for me to bark out orders. Cannon points toward Ghost. “You’re with me.” He looks at me next. “Go get your keys. Tank is with you. Mace, stay here and run surveillance on the house.”
Mace runs from the room. He’ll be heading back to his monitors where he can spy on the inside of that house.
I turn and jog from the conference room. Rachell stands from her desk as I rush by. “Tank will text you the deets,” I shout. He’s following me as I enter the stairwell. My new SUV was delivered last week. I haven’t been in it yet, but the keys are on the kitchen counter.
I need to control my breathing and rein in my anger before I step into the apartment. June doesn’t need to see me losing my shit. It will scare her to death.
“I’ll wait here,” Tank states when we reach my front door.
I take a deep breath, open the door, and prepare to put on an act. “June? Honey? I’ve got to run out for a while, Little one.” I move toward her office and lean in, expecting her to be at her desk. But she’s not there.
“June?” I glance into the playroom. Empty.
The hairs stand up on my neck as I turn and jog toward the bedroom. Why isn’t she answering me? She must be in the bathroom. But she’s not. She’s not in any room in the apartment.
I turn and run toward my office. I know already, though. I left her phone next to my monitor. It’s gone. “Fuck,” I scream. On top of that, the desk drawer is open. So is the knife box. My girl grabbed a lethal blade before she took off.
“Blade?” Tank calls out from the living room.
I scream again in frustration as I run toward the front of the apartment. I dash into the kitchen and grab the keys to the SUV. As I suspected, the keys to the Camaro are gone.
I meet Tank at the door. “Let’s go.”
“Where’s June?”
“She must have gone to trade herself for the hostage.”
“Fuck.” Tank doesn’t ask how I know. He’s like me. He can piece it together easily.
When we enter the elevator, I hand him the keys. He’ll be far more steady than me. I pull out my phone and call Ghost. He and Cannon are probably already on their way to Stark’s, but he’s the passenger.
As soon as he picks up, I start talking. “June saw the text. Her phone was in my home office. She’s gone. She can’t be that far ahead of us. And she’s armed with my largest tactical knife.”
“Fuck. Got it. We’ll beat her there, Blade. We’ll make sure.”
“She has my Camaro.”
“Okay. Drive safe. Cannon’s putting the pedal to the metal. Can you track her phone?”
Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? I hold my cell out to look at the app. “Nope. She left it at the apartment.” Which also means I can’t call her and reason with her.
I pocket my phone and take a deep breath. This is the slowest ride in this elevator in the history of elevator journeys. The door finally opens at what seems like half its usual pace. I’m already squeezing through the opening before it’s wide enough, Tank on my heels.
Twenty-Six
June
* * *
I’m sobbing. It’s been a long time since I last drove a car. Six years. Plus, my right arm is broken. I’m in no condition to drive, but that girl Pete is holding doesn’t deserve to die today.
