“Come on, dude. Drop it.” Then low, so only Ethan could hear, “We got this.”
Ethan’s grip tightened on Michael’s throat until he thrashed for air. He lifted the gun, pointing it at the ceiling.
“Back away, Ethan.” Joe cautioned as he took a step into the apartment, his gun trained on him. This was fucking bullshit. He shoved Michael away and straightened. His teeth cut into his tongue and blood spread through his mouth. His hands hung at his sides, his shoulders hunched as he approached Joe.
Every urge in his body told him to put them in their place and finish with Michael. But he didn’t need to get shot. If it came down to it, he’d kill everyone who stood in his way of finding Riley. But he couldn’t get himself killed before he found her.
“You’re making a big fucking mistake.” The words vibrated in his throat.
Joe’s jaw tensed as Ethan brushed past him and shoved his way through the officers. Nate followed close behind.
He shut and locked the front door of Riley’s house, his head pressed against the wood. Nate paced down the hall, his phone pressed to his ear as he shouted orders for the warrant to come in. His words didn’t register with Ethan. He was stuck. Every minute that ticked by weighed him down.
Ethan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, but didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” he barked.
“Ethan, it’s Jenny.” Her voice raised an octave. “What’s going on?”
Ethan cursed. “She’s gone.” The words slowed his heart, and his chest tightened.
“Oh my god.” Her voice trembled. “Have you—”
“I’m doing everything I can. I know who has her, but the cops won’t let me near him. They’re at his house and just made me leave.”
A beat passed. “I can get them to leave.”
Hope spread through him. “How?”
“Leave that to me. Just make sure he doesn’t escape once they’re gone.”
“Will do.” He disconnected, dropped the phone in his pocket, and moved the blinds at the front window.
Nate paced back down the hall, his phone hung limp in his hand and his eyes sharp. “Ethan, there’s banging coming from one of the bedrooms!” He jerked his head toward the end of the hall.
Ethan’s heart rate shot up and his stomach twisted. “Stay at the window and tell me when the cops leave.”
He sprinted down the hall and entered Riley’s bedroom. Silence greeted him. He balled his hands into fists and he moved soundlessly across the floor. Michael’s apartment was much smaller than Riley’s. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. It didn’t add up. His brows pinched. From the outside, both units appeared to be of equal size. How was it possible that Michael’s was so much smaller?
He grabbed the chair from the wall and placed it under the attic access. He thumped the bottom of his fist against the solid wooden door. It didn’t budge. He rested his hand on it, and pressed his ear as close as he could. It had probably been covered with new flooring and—
Thump, thump, thump.
The wood shook against his hand. His heart leapt into his throat, his breath stalled. It was her.
“Ethan!” A muffled scream sounded.
He banged his fist against the wood in response. “I’m coming, Riley!” he bellowed. He leapt to the ground, the chair toppled to the floor. He tore down the hallway, his heart pounded in his chest.
She was alive.
Nate turned from the window as he ran down the hall. “The cops just left with their sirens going.”
“It’s her man. She’s up there.”
“Sonofabitch.” Nate opened the door and Ethan bolted through it without slowing. He jumped down the steps and landed on his feet on the grass. Nate charged behind him. He pulled his Glock from his pants and raced up the stairs. The wooden steps shook beneath his feet. Ethan burst through the door.
“Riley!” he screamed as he stepped through the kitchen. Nothing. Where the hell was she? He paused, and mapped out Riley’s unit below in his mind. Her room should be right next to Michael’s, but—