Page 36 of Protected from Malice
Has he seen her picture? Traced the lines of her face with his finger, fantasizing about what he’d do to her once he had her unconscious, once?—
My molars almost crack; my jaw clenches so hard. Keeping my voice as calm as I can manage, I ask, “So you were supposed to get her andthenwhat?”
“I was supposed to call the guy back. Then he’d tell me where to bring her.”
“So you didn’t know the location in advance?”
He shakes his head. “No. I told you. The guy was going to tell me once I had the woman. Then I’d bring her… wherever… and do the tradeoff. Ten K to hand her over to him.”
Fury ignites into an inferno.
I want to kill him.
And I wouldn’t feel a second of guilt.
But I can’t. Not when I need more information. And not when Eden is standing right there, watching.
I don’t want her to think I’m even more of a monster than she already thinks I am.
“And what if there was someone else here?” I ask. “Other than her. What were you supposed to do?”
Fear flickers in his eyes. “Kill them. The guy said he’d pay extra if I had to. Five K more. As compensation. But only if I took a picture to prove it.”
A sharp laugh bursts out. “So you agreed to commit not just assault—yes, that’s what using chloroform on a woman is—but kidnappingandmurder for fifteen K?”
The man swallows hard, his throat bobbing against my hand. “I… I guess so. I didn’t think… I thought I could just get in and out. I didn’t think there would be some fucking martial arts expert waiting in here. It was supposed to be easy. Just take one woman and deliver her to the client.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eden still standing in the bathroom doorway, her hand pressed over her mouth. Even in the dark of the room, I can’t miss her horrified expression.
“How did you find her?” I know he didn’t follow us. I know it. And my ID is airtight. There’s no way it could be linked back to me, let alone Eden.
“The guy sent me her photo and a GPS tracking pin.”
“And you have that on your phone?”
“No—”
My voice dips threateningly.“Do you have your phone?”
“Yes. In my pocket.”
Reaching into his pocket, I yank out his phone and tap the screen. “What’s the passcode?”
He immediately shakes his head. “No way, I’m not telling you that.”
“Okay.” I roll him over. Break a fourth finger, his thumb this time.
A shrill cry of pain escapes. “Fine! Fine! It’s 5432. Just stop breaking my fucking fingers, you psycho!”
I pin him with my glare. “You’re the one who broke in. With the intent to kidnap an innocent woman. Who planned totake me outif necessary. So I think you might not want to throw stones at glass houses.”
Punching in the code, I access his recent calls and snap, “What number was it?”
“I don’t know. He just texted it to me. I don’t know.”
My thoughts are speeding along, coming up with potential ideas and immediately discarding them. I can call the client, as this fucker called him. Pretend I’m— “What’s your name?” I demand. “And don’t lie.”
“Greg. But I told him my name was Wyatt.”
