Page 70 of Final Vendetta

It was faint but unmistakable, like keys being shifted in a pocket or held in a hand.

My stomach twisted.

The sound came again, louder this time, and I realized it wasn’t just keys being moved. It was someone searching for the right one. Each jingle seemed to echo, magnified by the oppressive quiet of the room.

I pressed my back harder against the wall, my fingers splayed against the cold concrete, as if I could somehow push myself right through it. I held my breath, biting down on the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.

Then came the click of a key being inserted into a lock.

It was slow and deliberate, as though whoever held it wasn’t in any kind of rush. Like they knew they had all the time in the world.

The mechanism turned with a low, grinding noise, every rasp of metal against metal causing my stomach to tighten with dread.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady the wave of panic crashing through me. The smell of damp concrete and bleach grew sharper, mingling with the biting tang of fear that felt like it would suffocate me.

The door didn’t open right away.

The lock had turned, but there was a pause. A heartbeat. Two. Three. Long enough for me to wonder if they were standing there, waiting, listening, just as I was.

The air in the room felt colder, heavier, like it was closing in on me. My palms were damp, and I curled my fingers into fists, my nails biting into my flesh in an effort to stay grounded.

And then the doorknob turned.

It moved slowly, the faint squeak piercing the silence like a scream.

Light spilled into the room, harsh and sudden. It burned against my eyes, forcing me to turn my head away as I squinted against the brightness. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from my chest.

A shadow fell across the doorway, and I blinked rapidly, trying to make out the figure standing there.

But when it finally came into focus, my heart dropped at who my captor was.

Chapter Thirty-One

Gideon

The tires screeched as I took another sharp turn, glancing at the GPS navigation in my SUV to see I still had a few more miles to go until I reached my destination. Every second felt like an eternity as my mind swirled with scenario after scenario about where Imogene could be.

“Lester Vargas,” Henry’s voice crackled over the car’s speakers. “Former cop. Got booted for excessive force. Went into bounty hunting. It was the same story there. His license was revoked for repeated complaints of excessive force.”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. That didn’t bode well for Imogene. If he so much as hurt a single hair on her body, I’d make sure he regretted it for the rest of the short time he had left on earth.

“Connections?” I asked, swerving around slower cars on a street lined with shopping plazas and car dealerships.

“None that I could find,” Henry replied. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Guys like Vargas don’t exactly leave clean paper trails. If he’s working for someone, it’s probably a cash deal.”

There was a pause before Henry spoke again, his concern evident.

“Look, I know you’re not going to wait for me to land?—”

“You’d be right,” I interrupted.

“Just be careful. You’re not bulletproof.”

“Neither is he.”

“This is just a job for him. You, on the other hand?—”

“I’ll be fine,” I snapped, ending the call and focusing on navigating through intersection after intersection until finally pulling onto a narrow residential street.

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