Page 93 of Searching for Valor

chapter

thirty-three

The Creastline Resorthad been abandoned for as long as Izzy could remember. Kids in school used to dare each other to sneak into the dilapidated building, spinning tales of ghosts and grisly murders.

She’d always been too scared to try.

But, now, as she approached the crumbling building, those childhood fears seemed laughably trivial compared to the very real danger that waited inside.

She reached into her pocket and closed her hand around the flash drive, making sure it was there. It wasn’t really Monica’s files. She’d taken it from her father’s office at the garage and had no idea what was on it. Most likely pictures of cars.

But she was banking on Julian Graves not having a computer on hand to check right away.

If he did, she was dead.

Izzy’s phone buzzed in her pocket, the vibration jolting her already frayed nerves. She answered quickly. “I’m here.”

“Good,” the cold voice replied. “Enter the lobby. Hands visible. And, Delgado—if you’ve brought friends, your brother dies.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m alone.”

The line went dead. She slipped the phone into her pocket, inhaling deeply to steady herself, and stepped through the warped double doors into the lobby. Thanks to all the broken windows, it was just as cold inside as it was out. Wind howled off the ocean, making the old building shutter and moan.

The grand entryway of the once-luxurious resort was now a skeleton of its former self. She’d heard it finally sold to a real estate developer recently, but there were no signs of construction or any kind of improvements underway.

Her footsteps echoed through the cavernous space, dust motes swirling in the weak moonlight filtering in. The musty smell of decay and mildew assaulted her nostrils. She fought the urge to cough, not wanting to make any sudden movements.

“That’s far enough,” a gravelly voice called out from the shadows.

Izzy froze, then slowly raised her hands, palms out. “I’m here, just like you asked. Where’s my brother?”

Two thugs with guns moved out of the shadows near the grand staircase at the back of the lobby and flicked on a flashlight. She swallowed down a semi-hysterical giggle when she saw their clothes, their faces. They were both laughably stereotypical wannabe mobsters.

A third man stepped out from behind a crumbling pillar to her right and the laugh slipped past her defenses because he looked like a Wall Street broker in his suit, with his unnaturally black hair slicked back from his face.

It was all so absurd.

“Julian Graves?” she guessed.

He frowned. “I fail to see what’s funny about this situation.”

God, she had to get a grip. She forced her face into a neutral expression. “Nothing. Just nerves, I guess.” She glanced around the decaying lobby. “Where’s my brother?”

Julian’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Where are my files?”

She shook her head. “Let me see Mateo first.”

“That’s not how this works.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached into her pocket. She pulled out the flash drive, holding it up. “It is if you want this.”

Julian glanced at his thugs, motioning toward her with his chin. The two stepped forward, and her heart lodged in her throat. She took a large step back. “I copied everything on this drive and have an email set to go to Ash Rawlings if Mateo and I don’t make it out of here.”

“Wait,” Julian growled, and the thugs stopped moving. “How do I know you didn’t already send it?”

“Do you see any cops here?”

Julian’s lips flattened into a grim line. “No.”

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