Page 89 of Baited

Nothing.

“Dammit.” He got to his feet.

“Anything?” Nate stuck his head through the open door. His gun held firmly in his hand, but lowered to his side.

Ethan got to his feet. Dread spiraled through him. He wiped his chin with his hand. “No. Just found this guy hiding in the closet.”

“I would be too if I had to live with that creep. We should go talk to the cops, I got some pictures of a few things but I’ll show you outside.” Nate gestured to the hallway. Ethan didn’t move.

“I want to have a word with him before we go.” He opened and closed his hand at his side, his other hand tightened on the trigger of his Glock.

Nate’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re going to fuck him up, aren’t you?”

“If you don’t want to watch—”

Nate snorted. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The corner of Ethan’s mouth lifted. Man, he had good friends. He followed Nate out of the bedroom. He stopped at the bathroom but again, it was clear. Michael waited with his arms crossed over his chest, his back pressed against the kitchen counter.

“I see you didn’t find what you were looking for.” A muscle in Michael’s jaw twitched.

Ethan’s stride quickened as he crossed the kitchen. Michael threw his hands out in front of him. Ethan closed his hand around his windpipe and gave him a shake.

“Listen up, Dr. Ball. I know you took Riley, and I know you did something with Hanna.” He raised his gun and pressed it to Michael’s temple. His breath hissed out through his teeth. A tiny cut, barely visible, peeked out from Michael’s bottom lip. Riley had gotten in some good shots—but that didn’t reassure him.

“The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I don’t know where she is. But that won’t stop me from pulling the trigger. I can put a dozen bullets in you before it becomes life threatening, and eventually, you’ll talk. Trust me.” A bead of sweat rolled over his temple despite the air conditioning.

Michael’s eyes seared into Ethan’s. His brown irises were nearly black—dead. This close to him, Ethan’s instinct grew stronger. Hate and satisfaction emanated from Michael’s thin body. The lines around his eyes crinkled, but smug determination etched the plains of his face. A hint of amusement sparked the dark shallows of his eyes.

“You think so?” The words were faint, barely loud enough for Ethan to hear.

But he had.

Rage shook through him.

“You motherfucker.” He bent Michael over the counter and ground the mouth of his Glock against his temple until his hand ached. “Where is she?” His voice boomed throughout the small space.

Michael kept his hands beside his ears. “I don’t know what—”

He flipped the gun over in his palm and beat the butt of it against Michael’s skull. He cried out, and yelled something ineligible. Ethan did it again. This time, the thin skin at his head split.

“Dammit—”

“I can do this all day, Dr. Ball. Thing is, I don’t think you can. Looks like Riley already gave you a beating.” He tossed his gun in the air and caught it in his hand, this time the mouth of it pointed a Michael. “You have five seconds before I shoot out your kneecaps.”

“I don’t know any—”

“One.” Ethan’s voice was steady. His fingers itched for the moment he’d get to pull the trigger. “Two…”

“Would you—”

“Three—”

“Ethan, drop your weapon!” A voice echoed through the air.

Michael exhaled on a sigh, his body going limp in Ethan’s hold.

Ethan’s hand shook and the Glock tapped against Michael’s head with unspent rage. His gaze lifted from Michael. Joe and three officers stood in the open doorway. He didn’t back down. Nate’s hand closed over his shoulder.

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