DANTE’S POV I woke up coughing.
Gas still hung in the air.
My head throbbed.
I pushed myself up, grabbing the edge of the bed to stay upright.
Then it hit me.
The canister.
The masks.
Her.
Fuck.
I looked around.
The door hung open.
Her gun lay on the floor, still empty.
She was gone.
The digital clock on the wall said five past four in the morning.
They took her because of me.
Nobody comes after a nameless woman with gas and guns.
They followed me first.
But taking only her didn’t add up.
I checked my jacket for my phone out of habit, and I remembered that I lost it in the fight at the bar.
I grabbed her bag on my way out.
Wasn’t leaving it behind for whoever came sniffing around next.
The snow had stopped falling for now, but it had already buried everything in sight.
The bike was still parked where I’d left it, sheltered from the worst of it.
I tucked her bag into the storage compartment and rode past city workers clearing the street, holding a steady speed until I found a convenience store still open.
It was some run-down place with a sign flickering out front.
The bell over the door rang as I walked in.
The cashier barely looked up.
“Burner phone,” I said.
He pointed toward a rack behind the counter without a word.
I grabbed one, tossed cash on the counter, and didn’t wait for change.
Back outside, I ripped it open, powered it on, and dialed the only number I had memorized.
Fernando picked up on the second ring.
“Who is this?” “It’s me.
Lost my phone.” “Where the hell have you been, Dante?” He wasn’t wasting a second easing into it.
“I’ve been calling you all night.
I told you we got into a situation back here.
I need you here ASAP.” “Fuck that.” I kept walking toward the bike.
“You think I’ve been having a fun night?
Give me a couple hours.
I’ll be there.” “A couple hours?” His voice climbed.
“I can’t hold this down forever, man.” “So long as your life’s not on the line, you can.
I need you to take care of something first.” “What now?” “I was at the Metro motel with a lady.
Some guys took her.” “Which lady?
That what you been doing all night?” I let the silence answer for me.
“Okay.
Couple hours.
Not a minute more.” “I need you to track her.
Auburn hair.
About 5’6.” “Your description’s shit.
Thankfully abduction narrows it down.
Give me a minute.” I paced until the phone buzzed with coordinates.
“Send Rico to that location,” I said.
“I’ll be there before he is.” A pause.
“On it.” “On second thought, scratch that.” I got back on the bike, punched the coordinates into the GPS device and rode off.
The early morning air felt crisp as I rode towards the destination and it helped me settle my thoughts.
The road brought me out near a cemetery.
I killed the engine a safe distance and walked towards the entrance.
I quickly ducked behind a stone ledge, the fog making it easy for me to stay hidden.
I watched as two white vans drove out, the last one sat parked between near the headstones, back doors hanging open.
One man stood guard, gun slung loose, more bored than alert.
The other one had her, and he threw her into the back of the van.
I didn’t give either of them the chance to notice me first.
I raised my gun and fired.
The shot cracked out across the graves, dropping the closer one before he’d even turned his head.
Then the driver, glass shattering, bullet catching him in the head.
The last one spun, gun coming up fast, but I was already moving, closing the distance before he could line up a shot of his own.
I put him down and still kicked the gun out of his reach.
I stood over him a second, breathing hard, then turned toward the van.
Her head came up when she saw me.
Whatever relief crossed her first, the anger caught up to it fast.
“You!!” Her voice cracked but held.
“Are you stalking me now?” “Third time I’ve saved you.” I climbed into the van, crouching in front of her.
My eyes went to her wrist.
The skin there was raw, bruised and swollen.
And a deep cut on her right arm, still bleeding, dripping down her skin.
Anger churned low and dark in my gut, and I wanted to kill whoever laid hands on her.
Too bad they were already dead.
I took a deep breath, my fingers hovering just above the raw skin to examine the cut, “You’re hurt.” She flinched back, brows pulling together, her breathing shallow and quick.
“Why do you care?
Did my Aunt pay you for this?” I smirked, my eyes holding hers.
“No disrespect to your Aunt, but she can’t afford this gun.” I stood up and reached out a hand to pull her up.
“Who are these men?
And why are they after you?” “I don’t have time for this.” She pushed past my hand, wincing as she got herself upright, swaying dangerously.
I caught her before she fell, pulling her flush against me.
She shoved at my chest, both hands flat against me, but I didn’t let go, tightening my arm around her waist and pulling her tighter instead, pressing her body straight into mine.
A rose-tinted blush rushed up her neck, making her look surprisingly fragile for someone glaring so viciously at me.
“Let go of me.” “You can barely stand.” “That’s not your problem.” “Everything about you became my problem the second I put a bullet in that van.” I was still trying to steady my nerves, my breath sounding ragged against her skin, and she wasn’t any steadier, her chest rising and falling fast against mine.
She looked up at me, green eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my knees go weak.
Her hands were still on my chest, her fingers curling slightly into my shirt.
She hadn’t pushed again.
“I need to follow the other van.
They still have my brother.” I got an arm under her before she could take a full step, pinning her close.
“You’re not going alone.
I’m coming with you.” “You’ve done enough.” She looked me straight in the eye, her pulse hammering visibly at her throat.
“I can handle this myself.” “If I hadn’t shown up when I did,” I murmured, leaning in until my breath brushed her lips, “would you even have the chance to handle anything?” “Yes.
Now get out of my way.” I stood in her way.
She’d have to move me herself to get past.
“Either I come with you, or we lose your brother’s trail.” She scoffed.
“Fine.
Your funeral.” She shrugged, walking past me.
A laugh got out before I could stop it.
She moved fast to the driver’s side.
“That van’s too slow.
Let’s take my bike.” I turned and walked out the gate of the cemetery.
Footsteps trailed behind me.
I handed her the helmet and climbed on the bike, putting on mine.
She got on and I reached back and pulled her forcibly against me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
Through the leather of my jacket, I felt her whole body go rigid before her grip tightened, her warm breath hitching sharply over the helmet speaker.
“Hold on tight,” I said, not giving her a chance to respond and drove off.
There were only two exits out of the cemetery and we gambled and picked the main highway.
We drove through the snow, the fog getting thicker.
A mile out, the road split.
I slowed, the engine thrumming hard between my knees.
“Which way?” “Left.
Take the left!” She said through the helmet speaker.
I leaned us hard into the curve.
Half a mile up, red taillights cut through the fog.
“That’s them!” she yelled.
A heavy arm came out the van’s window with a pistol.
“Duck!” I barked, dropping low as a flash split the fog.
I punched the gas, pulled my sidearm from my waist, and blew out their rear tire.
The van swerved wildly and smashed broadside into a utility pole.
I skidded to a halt.
Before the bike even settled, Cara jumped off and sprinted for the wreckage.
She yanked the back doors open.
“Danny!” she screamed.
Empty.
No brother, nothing, just a wrecked van and the wreckage of a wrong guess.
Up front, the driver groaned against the wheel, still breathing.
I looked at him, then at her.
Whatever this guy knew, he was about to tell us, one way or another.
“Get him out,” I said.
“We’re going to make him talk.”