Page 53 of Fast Vengeance

Tori had endured worse than this and survived. He would hold on for as long as it took, or until he gave his last breath.

Don’t let them break you.

His team would be searching for him, along with other American and Mexican agencies. If he could just stay alive long enough, he had a chance of making it out of here.

Providing this sadistic son of a bitch didn’t kill him first.

He tensed, anticipating another blow. Then the sharp notes of a ring tone cut through the room.

The beating stopped abruptly.

Letting out a painful, cautious breath, Brock sagged and opened his good eye to find his tormentor staring at the cell phone in his hand, frowning. The man answered, watching him.

Brock only caught little bits of his response to whoever it was. Then he hung up and gave Brock another smirk that made him long to break the cruel fucker’s neck.

“Need to take a video of you,” he said, holding up the camera. “So smile nice.”

Brock glared down at him with his one eye, refusing to respond in any other way. The bastard was loving every moment of this.

“Say your name.”

He gathered his strength inward. If they were recording him, there was a reason. Were they sending proof of life to Taggart and the others? Or just so they could kill him and send this to the U.S. government after as a giant fuck you?

It’s Taggart.

He had to believe that. Had to, for his sanity.

Drawing in a shallow, painful breath, he tried to ease the shaking but his teeth continued to chatter, blood dripping down his face and chest. “S-supervisory Special Agent B-Brock Hamilton,” he rasped out.

“And what agency do you work for?”

“DEA.”

“Okay. Now smile.”

Brock longed to break his neck. Fantasized about it as he hung there. Fuck. You.

Chuckling, the man tapped out a message to someone, then lowered his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Picking the rod back up, he faced Brock and grinned, his eyes gleaming with an unholy enjoyment. “Now. Where were we?”

Chapter Fifteen

“Does anyone here look familiar at all to you?”

Victoria scooted her chair closer to the table and carefully examined the photos Taggart slid in front of her. Members of the taskforce were trying desperately to trace the number Oceane had called, but they hadn’t been able to get a lock on the signal yet. The battery had likely been removed or the phone destroyed.

“Are these all cartel members?” she asked.

“Most of them. We’re hoping you can identify a few,” he said.

It was so damn hard to focus on this when they didn’t know what was happening to Brock. Oceane had called her father’s contact three hours ago demanding a proof of life video, and still nothing.

Victoria supposed she should be grateful that they were involving her with the investigation at all because without something to keep her busy right now she would be losing her mind with worry. It tore her up, made her physically ill to think of Brock being beaten. Tortured. Worse.

“Commander Taggart.”

They both looked up as a Mexican official hurried toward them from the other end of the room. “We just received a call from the local police. Someone called them with a possible tip on Agent Hamilton’s location.”

Victoria’s heart beat faster as the man reached the table they were working at and set a folder down in front of Taggart to open it.

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