Page 12 of Vicious Devotion

“I’m going to try to get her back. Carefully,” I add, seeing the look on Agnes’ face. “But I can’t leave her there with him.”

“No.” Agnes sighs. “No, you can’t.” She leans forward, patting my arm. “You’ll be smart about it. You always have been, with everything.”

“You’re in charge while I’m gone. Take care of them,” I tell her, and she nods.

“I always do.”

Edgar and one other man are waiting for me downstairs in the lobby, when I walk back down. There’s a nondescript black car waiting for us outside—tinted windows, the usual trimmings. I slide into the passenger’s side, leaning my head back against the seat as we start to drive.

I should be staying at the hotel. I know that. But the thought of sitting and waiting, with no idea of what is happening and no ability to influence it, feels maddening. Beyond that, if we are able to sneak in, or get to Bella once she leaves the house, I can’t help but feel that it will go more smoothly with a familiar face. There’s a chance that if we send in strangers to rescue her, she’ll panic. But if I’m there?—

I know I’m rationalizing. I want to be there for her, no matter the risks, no matter whether it’s the smartest way to handle this. And it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do to stay rational, to do this in a measured way, rather than storming in to take her back by any means necessary.

Worse still is the small, angry voice in the back of my head that keeps thinking, over and over, that she’s mine. Not his. But the truth is that Bella isn’t mine. And she was never going to be.

I’ve never been a possessive man. But Bella does something to me, makes me feel things that I never have before. She makes me want to hold her like she’s made of glass, protect her and heal her from every terrible thing that’s ever happened, and at the same time defend her with a violence that I’ve never felt in all my life.

It makes rational thinking very, very difficult when it comes to her.

Edgar parks the car some distance from our destination, driving down an alleyway and turning off the engine. “We’ll walk from here,” he says, unlocking the door and stepping out. “We’ll need to be careful. Everything relies on being able to stealthily get a lay of the land.”

It’s a common joke, the idea of wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses as a disguise, but it works. The three of us are all dressed down, in jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. Edgar is wearing a pair of aviators; Joe, the other man with me, has on a lightweight beanie and sunglasses, and I opted for the baseball cap-and-glasses combo. We’re just three guys out for a walk, casually looking around, and Edgar and Joe both look entirely at ease. I make a mental note, watching them, to see if it’s possible to bring them over to my own security full-time. They’re both men I’d like to have working for me, with Gio. They’re wasted on Masseo, in my opinion.

It’s clear, after just a brief scouting mission, that we’re not going to be able to easily find any way in, not until we can get a floor plan and see if there’s any way in that isn’t a main entrance. Igor has, unsurprisingly, heavy security, and a well-landscaped estate that doesn’t offer a lot of blind spots. Instead, we find a spot a good distance from where we can be seen, and stake it out, Edgar producing a pair of high-vision binoculars.

For the most part, he does the watching. He has more expertise in this than I do. But after what feels like an interminable amount of time that passes, he hands over the binoculars, a tense expression on his face.

“I think that might be your girl. Far side, looks like maybe the third floor.”

My heart slams against my ribs, an instantaneous reaction that briefly startles me with its ferocity. I pick up the binoculars immediately, focusing in to see if I really can get a glimpse of her.

For a moment, I think Edgar saw someone else. But then, as I stand there with my hands gripping the binoculars hard enough to turn my knuckles white, I see her move into view, passing by the window. She disappears, and then passes by again, like she’s pacing the room.

My chest tightens, and I stand there, stock still, wanting another look. I can’t see well enough to get her expression, exactly—the window is half-shrouded by curtains, and I can only get glimpses. Her chestnut hair, the shape of her body that I remember so well, a quick glance at her face, worried and pale. She’s in a room with no balcony, which is wise. I’m surprised Igor put her in a room with a window, but there’s no way to scale up to it, and he must not think Bella is the sort to jump out and put an end to all of this.

No. She wouldn’t do that. I feel a hard jolt of pain, just thinking about it, but I know her better than that. She’s undoubtedly scared, and uncertain, but she won’t give up. And I have to believe that she knows me well enough, trusts me enough, to know that I’ll come for her.

I won’t leave her with him. I’ll find a way out for her. It’s just a matter of figuring out how.

“It’s her,” I confirm, handing Edgar back the binoculars. “Now we make a plan to get to her.”

It’s easier said than done. After two days of taking shifts watching the house, it’s clear that Igor isn’t going to allow Bella to leave. Every time we catch sight of her, it’s in that same room. After that first sighting, one person keeps a watch on her room while the others keep a rotating watch on the house and grounds, and beginning the following morning, she doesn’t appear to be allowed to leave the room at all, much less the mansion itself.

“That’s good,” Edgar says as we return to the hotel partway through the second day, to change shifts with the other three men. “If she’s confined to that one room, then it will be easier to locate her in the house, if we can figure out a way in. That eliminates needing to search the house for her.”

At that moment, I’m incredibly glad to have poached him from Masseo, because he’s right. He’s thinking with a clear head, without emotion, and right now, all I can think is how afraid Bella must be, trapped in that mansion, kept to a single room, panicking and waiting for help. But that line of thinking won’t get her out, and Edgar is right. Her being in one spot consistently will make this far easier.

“I should have the floor plan by this evening,” Edgar continued. “We’ll formulate the rest of the plan then.”

We end up in the business lounge around eight, with a printed floor plan spread out on the table, the three of us surveying it. I went upstairs and took a brief nap while I waited, checked in with Agnes and the children, and then spent the rest of the time arranging for our getaway once I have Bella back. I look at the map and then back at Edgar, who is frowning, his gaze flicking back and forth over the marked entrances.

“I only see two possible ways this works,” he says finally. “There’s a back way in that goes in through the wine cellar, here—” He points it out, tapping his finger against the paper. “For shipments. And there’s a staff entrance here. The staff entrance, from what we can tell, is the least secured spot. Timed correctly, it’s possible to get through there. But it would mean only one man going in, with backup waiting to get him and Bella out of there as soon as they emerge. More than one will draw too much attention. But one, dressed as staff, might be able to make his way through.”

“It has to be me,” I say instantly, and Edgar looks up sharply, his expression startled.

“You? No offense, Gabriel, but out of all of us, you have the least training for an extraction mission like this. It should be one of us. Vince?—”

I shake my head. “No. It has to be me,” I repeat, and Edgar lets out a frustrated sigh.

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