Page 36 of My Masked Stalker
Unsurprisingly, the two men who took Emily used masks to hide their faces. Checking the feed and seeing them carry out her unconscious body nearly killed me. I witnessed horrors beyond the average person’s imagination, but the sight of my Red helpless in the enemy’s grasp? Fuck, that topped them all.
“I’m trying to figure out who was in the area in the hours before we see them going out,” Ethan continues, his voice cutting through the miasma of rage in my head.
The fuckers who broke in used a signal jammer on their ingress, and neither Ethan nor I got an alert. But on the way out? They wanted to make sure I knew what happened. They wanted me to see that she didn’t leave on her own, that they have her.
“They’ll be contacting me soon,” I say quietly, my voice sounding dead even to my own ears. “The only question is whether body parts will be included in the calling card.”
If they touch a single hair on her head… How did I become so weak, so vulnerable?
“Pivot,” I order Ethan when I see nothing pop up on the programs he’s running simultaneously on multiple screens. “Look for property connected to known shell corporations under Black Ash’s command. Anything remote, inconspicuous.” I run my hand through my hair, pacing behind one of my best friends as he looks for the other half of my heart. “Then check the local politicians in their pockets and their holdings. They’re not going to be far. They’ll want me close enough to react. To make a hasty decision and get killed.”
“Cross…” Ethan murmurs. “Don’t let them win.”
“I have no fucking intention of getting myself killed and leaving Emily defenseless,” I snarl. Then I close my eyes and let my head fall back. “Sorry, man.” I’ve been biting E’s head off all night when he’s working as hard as he can to find my girl.
“It’s all good, brother,” he says. “I get you.”
He doesn’t. Not really. I know he loves Damien and me as much as we love him, ties forged in blood and sand. But you don’t know fear like this until your heart is owned by a woman.
“Got something,” Ethan says, excitement bleeding into his voice.
“What?” I growl impatiently, already forgetting that I just apologized to him for my caveman behavior.
But then my burner phone rings. The one I use for contracts.
“E,” I call out, showing him the screen. He types it into one of his programs before the short, default ringtone sounds a third time.
“Scrambled number. There’s nothing.”
Gritting my teeth, I answer and put it on speaker.
“Cross,” I say curtly.
“Ah, Sergeant Cross,” a cultured voice with a faint accent says. Kovalenko? Is this my Black Ash target from the warehouse disaster? “I have something that might interest you.”
My fist clenches like I’m about to throw a punch through the phone.
“Where is she?” I ask, voice icy cold.
The Black Ash scumbag huffs out a laugh. “Straight to the point, I see. I can appreciate a military mind. Though I can’t fathom what challenge a young kindergarten teacher provides to a man like you. To each their own.”
I let out a growl ripped from my chest. “Don’t talk about her. Don’t even think about her.”
“Oh, I did more than just think about her, Cross,” the dead man replies.
I register Ethan’s arm on my wrist before I hear the creaking of the phone’s casing. His eyes plead with me to keep my calm. I inhale and exhale twice before opening my mouth.
“What do you want, Kovalenko?” I ask, hazarding a guess as to my caller’s identity.
He laughs, confirming my suspicion, or just knowing I’m holding on to a string. If they cased me as much as I case a target, they’ll know how deep my obsession with Emily lies.
“An exchange. Miss Emily for you. Then we’ll have a little conversation about your employers.”
I exchange glances with Ethan. Black Ash doesn’t know who hired us. Moreover, they don’t know that we have no definitive idea either.
“Done,” I snap. “Where and when?”
“Red Hook waterfront. One hour. Oh, and Cross?” Kovalenko makes a dramatic pause. “Come alone. Or she dies.”
