Page 29 of Trick's Trap

“I thought you had my phone,” he said, frowning. “Can I borrow yours to call Liam?”

A flicker of distaste crossed Ethan’s face. The agent and his brother still weren’t getting on.

“I’m coordinating with the locals. The phone in the kitchen works. What happened to yours?”

“I don’t know. It’s been missing since I got tackled. For all I know, our perp picked it up.” He scowled. If that was the case, then the phone was sitting in a dumpster right now.

“Or another guest took it. I can have it traced if it’s still on,” Ethan offered.

“Can’t hurt, I guess,” he said, walking to the kitchen.

Trick was still trying to reach Liam in Boston when Ethan rushed in.

“Hey. Your phone is stationary almost four blocks from here.” Ethan pulled on his jacket. “Jason, head’s up! We’re going out with the locals.”

“You don’t think the perp still has it, do you?” Trick refused to get excited over the possibility.

Ethan grimaced. “We won’t know till we check. C’mon, get your ass in gear.”

Grateful to be moving, Trick followed. A uniformed police officer was waiting outside. He was holding a pair of black high heels.

“Where did you find those?”

“Around the corner near the fire escape,” the man answered.

Trick swiveled to face Ethan. “Where is that?”

“Outside the bathroom,” he answered, gesturing for him to follow him.

Another officer was staring up. The ladder on the fire escape was pulled down.

“Is this the way he brought her down or did she get away on her own?”

“I don’t know, but check this out.” Ethan shifted a few yards down, bending to pick up a discarded poker chip. He straightened and pointed down the alley. “And your phone is that way.”

The next breadcrumb on the trail, he thought, climbing into a police cruiser with Ethan.

Another car followed them. They drove a short distance before Ethan told the beat cop to stop outside the open door of a nondescript apartment building.

“Stay in the car,” Ethan ordered him, gesturing to the officer to follow him.

Fuck that. Trick climbed out of the backseat with the others, a belligerent scowl on his face.

He slammed the door behind him. Ethan turned and swore. “Fine, asshole, but if you get your head blown off, I’m not going to be the one to tell your sister,” he spat. “At least stay up here until we clear the building.”

The doorway opened onto some sort of basement. Trick caught a glimpse of a decrepit staircase before Ethan led the officers down. They were all holding their flashlights and guns the way cops did on detective shows.

A minute or two later, a sickly fluorescent light turned on. One of the cops must have found a switch.

“Trick.”

Ethan hadn’t shouted loud, but Trick knew he’d found something. He bounded down the stairs, hopping over a missing step. Ethan was crouched next to the space under the stairway, surrounded by the local cops.

Trick pushed his way past them. “Tahlia!”

She was crumpled in a little ball covered in dirt with a smear of what appeared to be blood on her face and hand. Ethan was taking her pulse, but she didn’t react until he shouted. She groaned.

Shit!He crouched next to Ethan. “Tahlia, are you all right?”

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