Page 35 of Hold Me Before You Go

“Ninety seconds starts now,” Jake whispered.

Hayes looked at the wall, finding a row of light switches and shutting them all off. Darkness surrounded us, and we heard the sounds of the prisoners bouncing off the concrete walls around us. The night vision in our masks activated, giving us the advantage.

“Move out,” I ordered. We assumed our stances, knees bent, arms stretched, guns pointed, and we moved, Ash leading the pack. As we made our way down the first hall, I shifted, walking backward, sweeping my gun back and forth.

“Right,” Jake instructed me from behind, making sure I followed.

A guard ran into the hall as we rounded the corner, and without a second thought, I fired, hitting him in the shoulder. He dropped in the darkness, his handgun landing on the tilefloor with a clatter. I turned back around, knowing we were close to our destination, and reloaded. Seconds later, we arrived, surrounding the door as Ash and Jake kept watch and Hayes knocked three times, then four, letting Dominic know it was us.

Not even a second later, the door opened, and the light from the room flooded the hall. He moved to the side, and I charged in, the men following behind me as my eyes landed on Carrie’s father.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, frantically looking at me and my team.

Ignoring him and the panic in his tone, I lifted my mask, watching as he flinched, his chain on the table rattling.

“Who—who are you?” he asked as the door closed behind me.

I almost smiled, knowing I was about to give this asshole a taste of hell.

Jake moved around me and the table, heading for the corner where the camera was. He clicked his tongue in disappointment as he slapped a small magnetic device to the side of it, and then a cruel smile stretched across my face as the recording light switched off. Jake stayed in the corner, leaning against the wall, and pulled off his mask. I looked over my shoulder to see Ash put his back against the door, his gun at his side. Hayes came around the table, his green eyes on Gelling as he came to stand directly behind him. He lifted his mask, ignoring the way Gelling was gawking up at him in horror.

“Remember, we’re on a time limit, Gray,” my right hand reminded me as he stepped back, leaning against the wall before folding his arms over his chest.

Gelling looked over at his shoulder at Hayes before twisting back to look at me, his eyes on my scar. “W-what’s going on? Was there a raid?”

I looked over to Dominic, who was dressed in a three-piece suit, holding Gelling’s file in his hands.

“He say anything to you yet?” I asked.

Dominic chuckled as he moved to side at the side of the table, his dark blue eyes on the prisoner. “He told me to go fuck myself.”

Fucker had balls, I’d give him that.

“I see.” I put my tongue in my cheek and looked back to Gelling, studying him.

He was in his mid-sixties, shorter than I expected. His skin was pale and glistening with sweat, his chest heaving with every short, hurried breath he took. I cocked my head to the side as he asked who we were again, like he had any kind of power here.

In a flash, I leaned over the table, my hand shooting out, wrapping around his neck. As my fingers pressed in, my palm pressed against his Adam’s apple, cutting his airway off, my upper lip curled. “I’m a friend of your daughter’s,” I growled.

His eyes widened, his pale, weathered skin turning a dark red, almost purple. He kicked his feet and lifted his cuffed hands, the chain snapping against the metal table. The darkness inside me laughed, enjoying the sight of one of Carrie’s abusers suffering at my hand, and suddenly, I was contemplating kidnapping him.

“If we did take him,” I began casually, “where would we put him?”

“We can’t take him, Gray,” Dominic replied just as casually, flipping through his file as if he were reading the morning newspaper. “We don’t have time for strays.”

“He isn’t a stray,” Ash rumbled from behind me, hatred dripping from every word. “He’s a damn parasite.”

Reluctantly, I released Gelling, relishing in the way he gasped for air before coughing violently. “We have some questions for you, Bradley,” I told him, rising back to my full height.

He glared up at me. “You know my daughter? Are you one of Jones’ men?”

He wasn’t referring to Jeremy Jones; rather, his uncle. “You’re not in the position to be asking me questions, so I suggest you shut your mouth unless you’re giving me an answer, that clear?”

Apparently, it wasn’t clear enough. “Who do you work for?” he barked out, jerking in his chains.

Within seconds, I was leaning over the table again, blade in hand, his tongue pinched between my fingers, yanking it out as far as it would go. A noise came from him as I pressed my blade to his tongue, snarling at him. “Don’t test me, Gelling. I’m not a patient man.”

He began to shake as he met my eyes. I pressed the blade further into the bottom of his tongue, pinching it harder between my fingers. “We’re here to ask you some questions about your dead son-in-law,” I told him as he whimpered, closing his eyes for a moment.

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