Page 42 of Dangerous Refuge

I grip handfuls of my hair and rest my elbows on my knees. I know Dominic is right. I’m out of control and even the tiny bit of control I felt when I had a focus—keeping Allie safe—is gone. All I can think about is slitting that bastard's throat and then making her see how she’s made a mistake. She and I belong together.

My phone rings. I’m raging, my chest heaving, so I ignore it. I’m in no mood for a social call, and work can fuck off. I pick up the Jameson and skip the glass this time, swigging it straight from the bottle. And my phone rings again. It’s not a social call; I know that much. Which means it’s either a family matter or business. I don’t care about either. I ignore it again, standing and striding out the door and heading toward my room. I carry the Jameson with me. I’m going to need it.

The bedroom light is off, but I leave it that way. I turn my ringer off and toss my phone onto the nightstand and set the Jameson next to it. I am seated on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning my shirt, when my phone lights up. It’s yet another call, but this time I can see who is calling. It’s not work or family–it’s Monroe. Why the hell is he calling me?

My instinct says I need to answer, so I do.

“What is it?” I bark.

“Sir, I’ve got a huge lead on that guy you’re hunting.”

My body tenses, a jolt of energy zipping through my muscles. “What is it?” I ask him, already buttoning my shirt up again.

“Since this guy has so many counts against him and an active arrest warrant, they have a BOLO out. I have a few friends in Vice who have been keeping tabs on things and there was a 9-1-1 call made from Manhattan twenty minutes ago. Paul Hensley’s name came across the scanner. He abducted a woman from her friend’s apartment at gunpoint, left her kid behind.”

My worst nightmare is coming true. I stand, supercharged for this fight. He isn’t taking her. Not on my watch, not like this. “Where is he? Do they have a bead on his location?”

“Get this, the address Vice says they need to search based on witness testimony is only two blocks away. It’s like this guy set up shop by the friend’s place hoping she came around there.” Monroe sounds chuffed with himself to have figured this out but all I can think is how much of an idiot he is. Jimmy Slater may have figured this out faster.

“Send me an address now.” I hang up on the sergeant and immediately call Allie’s phone. If she has it, maybe she’ll answer. If not, maybe Sarah will pick up.

I grab my keys and the gun out of my nightstand drawer and pinch my phone between my ear and shoulder as I head out toward the car. The phone rings and rings, no answer. I jam the gun into my waistband and climb into my car. Then I dial again.

I feel my phone buzz, probably the address sent by Monroe, so when the call doesn’t go through again, I end it and type the address into my GPS, then call again. After seven tries, someone picks up.

“Hello?” It’s Rico’s scared voice. “Sven?”

“Hey, buddy. Yeah it’s me.” I am definitely not a nurturer but I try to remain calm, despite my thirst for blood at this exact moment. “Tell me what happened.”

“Sven, where’s my mom? Sarah said some bad man took her. There are police here.”

“Buddy, where was your mom’s phone?” I pull out onto the road and floor the accelerator. GPS says it’s a fifteen minute drive. I intend to do it in seven.

“It was under the couch. Sven, the police say I can’t stay with Sarah. They said I have to go with them.” Rico sounds terrified. Who the hell would do that to a kid? Sarah is his nanny.

“Let me talk to Sarah.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, and I hear him sniffle. There is some talking; I hear male voices in the background and think I recognize one. Then I heard Rico pleading with Sarah and the phone crackles.

“Yeah,” she snaps. She’s not happy to talk to me.

“Sarah, it’s Sven. Tell me what the fuck happened.” I turn down a side street and the GPS screams at me to turn around, but this way is faster. I know the traffic will be lighter here.

“He fucking took her, you bastard. Why did you get her into this shit? She’d have been gone by now, somewhere safe.”

So she blames me. That’s fine. When I come in as the hero, she will change her tune. “Did he say where he was taking her? Why?”

“He wants Rico. We hid him, so Paul didn’t know where he was.” Sarah sniffles too. God, so many people crying.

“I’m coming.” My gruff nature doesn’t allow for me to sound comforting right now.

“What good can you do now? They’re taking Rico to the station and then to DHS. They don’t know where she is either.”

“I’m going to get her back. You tell whoever it is in your home that they need to talk to Sergeant Monroe in anti terrorism. He’ll make sure you get to keep Rico. Got that?”

“What?” she asks, her tone softening.

“Tell him Sven Gusev needs a favor.” I hang up knowing she will be in good hands now, and hit the talk to text button. The phone chimes. “Send Monroe a text.”

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