Page 67 of Rogue Voice

It had been three hours, and Dark still hadn’t recovered consciousness. They knew some of what had happened, of course. They’d seen the burns on the man’s neck. He’d been tasered—hard, and for a long time.By someone who managed to get close enough to him to do so.

That thought scared Rogue more than he was willing to admit. Because he’d seen Dark fight—so he knew whoever had gotten the drop of him had to be a scary motherfucker.

And that motherfucker had Bea. His Bea.Fuck.Rogue wanted to punch something. The wall. The window. Thorne, as he stood there so fucking calmly by the door. Three hours, andDark still hadn’t recovered consciousness. Three hours, without news of Bea.

“Slate is with him in the hospital,” Griffin said, as if reading his thoughts. “He’ll let us know as soon as he wakes up.”

Rogue felt like a heel. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Dark. Of course he did. But the thought of Bea in danger left him unable to breathe.

“I said, I want to see those cameras,” Thorne said on the phone, his voice calm, as if he were discussing his dry cleaning. “You have five minutes to bring me the footage, before I bring Interpol down on your hotel.”

And Rogue knew he should be grateful, that someone was still thinking straight.The cameras.Thorne was talking about the hotel camera. But there were other cameras, out on the street. Because nobody had seen them walk out. And women didn’t get carried away in broad daylight in Amsterdam. Whoever took Bea, must have driven out of the garage.

If he could find that vehicle, he could follow that vehicle. Because Antwerp, like most European cities, was heavily monitored by both public and private surveillance cameras, most of which could be hacked by someone with the right incentive.

Rogue grasped Griffin’s arm. “I need my laptop.”

31

Bea

Emiliano’s first slap slammed Bea’s head sideways. His second slap split her lip. Blood, metallic and salty, filled her mouth. She barely felt it. The pain was nothing compared to her fear.

“You’ve gotten fat,” her uncle said, looking at her with distaste. “You’re going to have to slim down.”

Probably because I’ve been eating.He must have read the defiance in her eyes. He slapped her again.

Bea’s eyes watered, but she didn’t make a sound. She knew he liked the sound of people’s fear, and she wouldn’t give him that pleasure.

She looked down at the sturdy, metallic chair she was sitting on. Her hands had been duct taped to the arms of the chair,tightly enough that she wouldn’t be going anywhere, unless she was able to bring the chair with her.

She looked around the room. There were several desks piled on one side, but most of the space was empty. It looked like an unused office space but smelled faintly of oil and exhaust. There was only one door—one way out.

Emiliano circled like a shark, then paused, making a show of sniffing the surrounding air. “I can smell him on you. You let him touch you.”

And Bea knew she should keep her eyes down. She could almost hear Rogue’s voice in her head, telling her what to do.

Look down and stay alive.

But it was too much.

For too long, she’d lived in fear of what Emiliano would do. She’d let him control everything about her existence, from what she ate, to when she slept, how long she worked out … her entire existence, determined by this man.

Never again.

“I like it when he touches me, Emiliano,” she said, looking up into his sunken eyes.

Emiliano’s beady eyes narrowed. “Eres una zorra,”he hissed.You’re a whore.

His hand clenched into a fist, and Bea knew the next time he struck her it wouldn’t be with an open-hand slap. But she wasn’t a whore. Nothing Emiliano said or did would take away from what she and Rogue had shared.

Rogue.

She prayed he was okay. She knew he would do everything he could to find her. But he didn’t realize there was a traitor in the DEA. A man who’d spent years misleading them, secretly working with Emiliano.

She wished she’d had the chance to warn Rogue. She wished she’d had the chance to say goodbye—the chance to explain tohim how she really felt, to tell him that she wanted her new life to be withhim. But it was too late now for that kind of thought. A tear rolled down her cheeks. Whatever happened, she just had to pray Rogue would be okay when it was over.

Veins popped on the side of Emiliano’s face. His nostrils flared. Anger transformed his face into a mask of hatred.

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