Page 66 of Fast Justice

Prentiss stopped a few paces from him, searched his eyes a moment. “I’m sorry, man. I know how much she means to you. And I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. I was out of my mind when they took Autumn.”

His little daughter, who they’d thankfully found and rescued in time. Mal didn’t bother denying that Rowan meant something to him, because it was an understatement and it felt like his fucking heart was being put through a shredder right now.

“Come inside,” Hamilton said quietly. “If we get the call, all of us need to be ready, so we can do what it takes to get her back.”

He was right, of course. “I just… I need a minute.” Mal’s voice was hoarse.

“I get it. But when you’re ready, come to the briefing room so we can get to work.” Then he pointed at the building behind him, his expression earnest. “Every last guy in there is here for you. For her. We’ll get her back.”

If someone finds her and we even get the call.

Mal pushed the awful thought away and nodded, because what the hell else could he do, and his team leader was just trying to give him hope. When Prentiss and Hamilton turned to walk away, Mal couldn’t help saying, “You know what they did to Victoria. To Anya.” Hamilton had spent more time with Victoria than anyone else on the team. He’d seen in grim detail the damage they’d done to her. And Prentiss had been the one to find her in the woods that night.

His team leader turned to face him. His demeanor was calm and steady as ever. But those steel gray eyes glowed with deep, burning rage. “I know. But none of that’s gonna happen to Rowan. They’ve already got teams out looking for her, and a net set up. Roadblocks into and out of the city are in place and they’re analyzing CCTV footage now. She’s going to be okay.”

The fierce way Hamilton said it, Mal almost believed him. Theywouldfind Rowan. But there was another part, deep down inside where his most secret fears lay buried, that was fucking terrified they wouldn’t find her in time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rowan couldn’t stem the fear surging through her. Couldn’t stop her mind from spinning out of control as she lay on the floor of the van while it bumped over the pavement.

They’d been driving for what seemed like a while, maybe around an hour, she wasn’t sure. There were so many places they could be by now, and so far no one had tried to pull them over. Did the van have plates on it? Surely one of the FBI agents had reported it if anyone was still alive.

A shudder sped through her. She hadn’t tried to fight anymore, not after the shot to the side of the face where her cheekbone still throbbed like it had its own heartbeat.

She rolled a little as the van made a left-hand turn. This time the driver went slower. They were no longer on the highway. The road here was bumpier. It had either some stoplights or stop signs, judging by the slowing and acceleration pattern. Were they getting close to their destination? They’d taken her alive for a reason. What were they going to do to her once they got there?

Horror curdled in the pit of her stomach. Details of what they had done to Victoria filled her mind.No, stay strong, she reminded herself. But when the van finally stopped and at least some of the men exited the vehicle, panic slammed into her like a wrecking ball.

Rough hands grabbed her by the arms and hauled her upright. She held herself rigid as they dragged her out the back. The moment she felt the breeze on her bare arms and legs, she struggled, survival instinct taking over.

“Help!” she cried, twisting, kicking. “Somebody help me!” She kicked out behind her, hope surging when the man holding her grunted. If she could get free, maybe she could run—

Pain sliced through her ribs as a fist slammed into her right side. She doubled over, the air knocked from her lungs. Growling male voices echoed around her but she couldn’t understand them, too overcome with the fight for breath to focus on anything else.

Slowly the swimming sensation faded, a clammy film of sweat coating her skin. There was no escaping the cruel, iron hold on her arms and legs, the men’s fingers biting deep with bruising force. They lifted her. Carried her quickly.

Their footsteps shuffled along pavement, then a door squeaked open. The man holding her legs let go. She stumbled, her knees slamming into the hard, unforgiving floor. Then the man holding her arms yanked her upright, shoved her backward and down. Her rear hit something hard, the unexpected impact jolting up her spine, making her teeth clack together.

A man muttered something in Spanish. The door opened again, then shut. A cold bead of sweat trickled down her ribs, her heart slamming against her breastbone.

Someone grasped the hood and roughly jerked it from her head. Rowan flinched and squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden brightness, but fear forced them back open, her entire body on red alert as she took in her surroundings.

She was in some kind of a small hut with no windows. A single bulb surrounded by a wire cage suspended from the middle of the ceiling.

Movement to her right made her snap her head toward it. A man stepped in front of her. Late twenties or early thirties, with bronze-colored skin and a dark moustache and goatee. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, and the evil gleam in them made her skin fucking crawl.

“Miss Stewart,” he said in a thick Spanish accent. “So good to finally meet you at last.”

Through her terror, it took a moment to place him. But when her brain at last snapped into gear, the chill inside her turned into an arctic blast.

Juan Montoya. Manuel Nieto’s chief enforcer. One of the most feared and notorious criminals within the entireVenenocartel. Vicious even by cartel standards.

Even though she was shaking inside, she met that awful stare and raised her chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of allowing him to see how terrified she was. He needed something from her. Otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of kidnapping her.

One side of his mouth tipped up in an amused smirk. “I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to retrieve you,puta,” he said softly. So softly the tiny hairs on Rowan’s nape prickled in warning. “You’d best not disappoint me after all this.”

Her spine was rigid as a steel rod, her muscles locked tight as she stared up at him. It was almost worse that he was a good looking man, his attractive exterior at complete odds with the evil that lurked underneath. But it showed in those dark, gleaming eyes that made her want to recoil. Only by sheer force of will did she hold her position.

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