Page 95 of Extracted

Her knees buckled at the sound of Dallas’s voice, and she slid slowly to the ground, a sob breaking from her lips.

“Are you okay? Talk to me. Fuck.”

His ferocious demand made her suck in a deep breath.

“I’m okay. I’m fine. I—I killed someone. I need you.” She winced slightly at the desperation in her voice, but right now she didn’t really care.

“Tell me where you are.” His to-the-point directive settled the temporary delirium that had seized her brain function.

Blowing another deep breath through her lips, her heart rate returned to almost normal. “I’m in a janitor’s closet in the hallway. Next door to the bar is a vacant space that’s being renovated—I was being held there by one of Silas’s men until I escaped.” The words danced off her tongue with urgency. “I hit one of the men with a hammer just outside the room and then ran to the closet.”

“We’re in the back alley. Stay where you are. There’s a sniper outside. Or there was. We need to lie low. I’ll find another way into the building and get to you. Just don’t move, okay? Can you do that for me, honey?”

Her chest quivered as the dam holding back her terror threatened to break. “Yes,” she wheezed.

“All right. I’m going to keep you on the phone. Just—”

The door yanked open.

A scream tore from her throat as she stared at the man looming over her.

“Found her.” Silas’s satisfied smirk spread across his face.

Gemma fumbled the gun, but her hand refused to let go of the phone. Dallas’s shouts reached her ears, but his words didn’t penetrate the fog of panic gripping her senses.

Silas’s fist connected with her cheekbone. She fell backward into a pile of buckets and both the phone and the weapon were snatched from her hands.

“Payback’s a bitch,” he said into the receiver.

He threw the phone to the ground then reached into the closet, capturing her by the hair.

Gemma let out another scream as he dragged her away from the phone—and Dallas.

CHAPTER 26

Dallas roared as he clutched Cole’s phone in his fist. “Fuck!” he screamed, turning to his brother. “They have her.” The declaration sucked the air from his lungs like a vacuum.

He leaned his free hand against the dumpster, balancing his weight on his haunches. The night spun around him, and fear threatened to pull him to the ground.

Cole took his phone from Dallas’s death grip then rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Look at me.”

Dallas forced his gaze to his brother’s.

“We’ll get her back. They won’t get far. But you need to get off your ass and walk to my car so we have a chance to follow them.”

Dallas gulped. “All right.” He pushed himself to his feet, but Cole hauled him back down.

“Shooters.”

He couldn’t even think straight. He’d probably been milliseconds away from getting his head blown off.

“Let’s do this without getting killed.” Cole’s smirk told him he needed to get his shit together quickly.

Holding his gun in his palm, ready to kill the first fucker he saw associated with Silas, Dallas ducked and followed Cole from behind the dumpster to the alleyway along the side of the club.

If the CIA was still after Silas, they might get to him first. The ramifications of that idea quickly replaced any relief. If the CIA found Silas, they could use another bomb and kill Gemma, or accidentally shoot her.

The CIA beating him to Silas would be a bad thing.

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