Page 9 of Sinful Submission

“Which building?” I asked, fingers hovering over the keys.

“Anderson Hall. Administrative building. Second floor.” Storm moved closer. “Her office is near mine.”

I typed in the location parameters, rewinding through the footage. The timestamp showed two forty-seven when Santariwalked down the hall, her hips swaying in that fitted pencil skirt that ignited my libido. She disappeared into her office.

“There.” Cruz pointed to a man in a suit entering the frame at three fifteen.

The man knocked on Santari’s door. She opened it, and her body language instantly changed.

“Sound?” Cruz demanded.

I shook my head, scanning through more angles. “No audio.”

The suit grabbed her collar and dragged her into the hall then pressed a gun to her side. Santari fought – landing a solid right hook that made pride surge through me even as rage clouded my vision. But then a second man appeared behind her with a cloth. He said something that caused fear to ignite her eyes. She nodded then walked with them out of the frame.

I clicked to outside cameras and watch them cover her face with a cloth then load her into a black SUV with dealer plates.

“Chloroform.” Storm’s voice was hollow. “It’s a professional job.”

“Run those plates.” Cruz was already on his phone. “I’ll have my street contacts watching for that vehicle.”

I expanded the view to the parking lot cameras, tracking the SUV’s exit route. “They turned north on Collins.”

“There are multiple traffic cameras along there,” Storm said. “We can?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled, not taking my eyes off the screen. I drew in a breath. I knew it wasn’t the time to fight, but it didn’t mean I didn’t want to break Storm’s jaw.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, accessing the city’s traffic system. The SUV appeared on three cameras before disappearing into a blind spot near the port.

“They’re keeping her close to water.” I stood, and my mind drew a mental blueprint of the area. “There are warehouses,shipping containers, and abandoned buildings with dock access.”

“I’ve got contacts at the docks,” Cruz said. “I’ll make some calls and see who’s noticed any unusual activity.”

Storm moved to another computer, pulling up files. “I’ll dig through everything on our mission with Rev to see if it leads me to someone - any fuckin’ one.”

I spoke through clenched teeth. “Good. I’ll take the north side of the port and work my way down. Cruz, you start south and move up. Storm, coordinate from here - feed us any intel you find.”

“They’re professionals,” Cruz said, checking his weapon. “They won’t leave obvious trails.”

“Then we make our own trails and led them to us.” I headed for the door. “We find who has her, then paint the streets red.”

Storm’s voice was steel when he spoke. “I started this. Let me help end it.”

“You didn’t start shit. The motherfucker who came for us and took our brother started it. And you will help us end it.” I turned back to him. “Find us a target. When we locate her, we’ll need you for extraction.”

Cruz fell into step beside me as we headed out. Storm was already working the computers behind us. “If they touch her...”

“They already have by taking her. Let’s make them beg for death.”

Two engines roared to life in the driveway - my Mercedes, Cruz’s Hellcat, and Storm’s voice was in our earpieces as we split off in different directions. Somewhere in this city, Santari was waiting. And the stupid motherfuckers who had taken her didn’t know they’d just invited hell into their homes.

The rough brickof concrete scraped my cheek when I came to. The chloroform had left my mouth cotton-dry and my thoughts fuzzy around the edges.

I had been taken.

Alarm hit my soul, making my pulse spike and my heart ricochet. Someone had stolen me right out of my office like it was nothing.

I fought the urge to panic and mentally counted down from ten, using some of the meditating methods I’d learned in therapy.

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