Page 48 of The Chance

Aubrey’s head swam. She was only going to be able to stay on her feet for a little longer. The pain… her arm… It had pierced the skin. She was bleeding. She grabbed the nearest thing she could to press against it. Mandy’s scrubs top.

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“They’ll dig into everything you’ve touched, Justin. And everything your little slut girlfriend has touched or prescribed. Think I didn’t pad my bank account with her name on it? Be prepared for that.”

Justin didn’t flinch. “Maybe. But I’m not afraid of what they’ll find. I haven’t done anything wrong. You have—and I’ve found most of the records to prove it. Even where you used Mandy to do it. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t do what it takes to protect her from you? You don’t know me at all.”

40

As they nearedthe east wing, Laird spoke again. “The boiler room’s a dead zone. No cameras, no security, no one goes down there unless they’re up to no good. You sure you want to do this without backup? We can call security and have Tom here in minutes.”

She wasn’t answering his texts or his call. No. She was in trouble—every instinct he had said she needed him now.

His phone buzzed. A text from Laughlin.

Jordan just found Aubrey’s bag near the east stairwell to the basement. We are heading down there ASAP. But we are on the opposite end now.

East.That was opposite of where the little green dot on Guthrie’s screen was.

Guthrie and Laird would take the other entrance to the basement. The west. It was closer now.

“She’s down there. That’s all that matters. I’m going to find her and make sure she’s okay. She wouldn’t be in a basement, Laird. She wouldn’t—the most traumatic event of her life thatleft her baby sister paralyzed happened in a basement and they were locked down there in the dark for hours that day. She wouldn’t go down there willingly. Not Aubrey. At least not without me or the one other doctor in this place she fully trusts—and Caine is with the Carringtons right now.”

Laird didn’t argue. They reached the basement door. Guthrie hesitated for a moment, listening. Nothing. “Why don’t we keep this locked?”

Alvaro ran a tight ship around this place—he wouldn’t have had faulty locks. Guthrie looked closer. “Someone jammed open the lock.”

“Dark and old down here. This is where the ghosts live.”

That was the last thing Guthrie wanted to hear.

He’d been in the basement before—once. When a stray dog from a mile up the road had gotten in the pneumatic doors a few years ago and made it all the way to the open basement door, where the repairmen were working on the boiler system that day.

People just didn’t have random reasons to be in this basement.

He heard something—a man, yelling.

“Howard,” Laird whispered. “That’s his voice.”

Guthrie nodded, motioning for Laird to stay back as he edged closer. He’d heard the man yelling, too.

And the sounds of metal banging around.

And then a woman screamed. Guthrie knew—that was his woman in there.

And she was in trouble.

He tried the door. It was locked, or barred. He shoved his shoulder into it as hard as he could.

Whatever was blocking it landed on the ground in front of him. Guthrie almost tripped.

Over her.

Aubrey was on the floor, trying to get away from the two men trapping her almost against a stack of metal heating ducts that were probably older than Guthrie and Laird combined.

Dr. Michaels and Dr. Howard were in a slugging match as if their very lives depended on it.

Howard had a large crescent wrench in his hand.

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