Frost
He wanted to kill something so fucking badly, he could hardly breathe. It took every physical effort he had to keep his shit together.
Even Storm had been watching him like a fucking hawk. Rage simmered just beneath the surface, he could feel it like a living thing. Something dark had unleashed inside of him.
Coiled and ready to strike, blood roared in his ears. At first, he didn’t hear Wild until the tracker gripped him by the arms.
“You with us or are you out?” Wild snapped.
“I’m in,” he snarled, heat racing up his neck into his face. He glared at Wild and jerked away. He knew what the man was doing and was grateful for it, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to punch Wild in the mouth.
Nobody on earth was going to keep him here while Seth was out there. He had a fucking score to settle, a mission, a purpose. To get Seth back. Someone had gotten in the way of his happily ever after and they were going to fucking die. Even if Seth never wanted to speak to him again, Frost was primed to kill them all.
Seth was his. He just had to find the balls to tell Seth. It wasn’t too late. They still had a chance. He refused to believe that Seth was dead.
Frost wouldn’t rest until he set his eyes on that messy crop of curls and deep green eyes. His throat closed and he yanked on his tactical vest.
Giovanni Rossi had arrived a few minutes earlier looking haggard. Stefano and Rossi were sequestered in Stefano’s office at the moment.
Marshal Mac Mackenzie, as well as his partner Jake Coleman had arrived. Mac hadn’t left Noah’s side.
Frost looked at his unit. Wild was fidgety, which was unusual for the tracker. The man’s long hair was pulled back and twisted into a man bun at the back of his head.
Wild snapped ammunition into the gun’s chamber with violence until Storm closed a palm over the man’s hands. Wild stilled, then his shoulders lifted with a deep breath and he gave Storm a short nod.
Storm stepped back, the man was stoic. Not much rattled Storm, ever. Frost could tell, though. This had rattled him. It was in Storm’s eyes, brewing like a fucking shit storm that was going to unleash holy hell.
Noah was quiet, his movements quick, precise, and methodical as he tucked away each extra weapon Mac handed him.
Allison, having gotten a grip, was strapping on two throwing knives at her hips before pulling on a jacket over a tactical vest. He almost felt bad for any perp who got in her way. She crouched and tucked a small pistol in one of her black leather combat boots.
They would kill for each other. Even with all the squabbling they did, he knew they would die for one another.
Rossi and Stefano came out of Stefano’s office and stood in front of them. Rossi, visibly upset, appeared to be at a loss for words.
“Go, bring our boy home,” Stefano said quietly.
The unspoken “dead or alive” hung in the air. There was no fucking way he would accept that Seth was dead, no fucking way.
The unit turned as one and stepped out the back door. In complete and utter silence, they moved toward the fully-loaded black SUV. He paused and looked back through the open door and saw Stefano take Rossi into his arms. They said something to each other, and then Rossi nodded and pulled out his cell phone.
Frost turned away and jogged to the vehicle. Reggie was already behind the wheel. The techie wasn’t armed, but wore a vest. His face was red and blotchy, but held resolve like the rest of them.
He clamped a hand on the young man’s shoulder as he climbed in behind him and into the back seat. Storm road up front, Wild sat next to Frost. Noah, Mac, Jake, and Allison were in the third row. Their gear was stored in the very back.
Yakov Lakhonin was responsible for Seth’s disappearance! Frost knew it in his gut. Now the only question remained, who had Yakov hired to do the deed? The fucker wouldn’t have gotten his hands dirty. It couldn’t be Marco Jennings; the guy was dead. That left Jagger Miller, but according to Stefano, Miller was in the wind.
Frost curled his hand around his weapon until his knuckles turned white. They were still no closer to locating Yakov. It wouldn’t matter, he would tear apart the fucking planet. He’d find Seth. And Yakov was going to pay.
“The store clerk called the cops this morning. Said he found a car abandoned with the door open. The clerk checked the security camera and saw the abduction and called the police. The cops tracked down Giovanni Rossi about an hour ago,” Reggie said, breaking into Frost’s thoughts and filling the team in on what he’d found out so far.
“When was he taken?” Frost narrowed his eyes.
“Last night…” Reggie whispered.
Fucking hell. Why had Seth gone to a closed store? Frost rubbed at the bridge of his nose.
“You get a ping on Seth’s cell phone?” Wild asked Reggie.
“Yep, we’re heading there now. It’s somewhere at the scene. The cops are waiting for the feds to show up.” The techie took a left and headed in the direction of a small outdoor shopping area with a barber, hardware store, and small, local grocery store. “I have it on GPS.”
They located Seth’s car in the parking lot. One portion of Seth’s phone had a small cone marking its location. The phone had been crushed and the case was missing.
Walking the scene, Frost couldn’t find a damn thing that would lead them to Seth.
They fanned out, each taking a direction, and walked the outer edges of the cracked and chipped parking lot.
“Here,” Allison called out.
When Frost reached her, she was crouched down, lifting something with the edge of her pen.
“It’s the case to Seth’s cell phone,” Frost said. He’d recognize that Batman logo case anywhere.
“Why is it so far from the kidnapping point?” Reggie asked.
“Could be more than one vehicle.” Wild pointed to the tire marks on the pavement.
“Yeah,” Allison said and slipped it into an evidence bag. “Reggie, see what you can do.”
“I’m on it. We also found blood.” Reggie took the baggy and jogged back to the vehicle.
Hopefully, they’d get a print off of one of the portions.
If Seth had stabbed one of the kidnappers, even better.
The door gave way beneath the battering ram. Wood chips flew in all directions around the men dressed in armor and fatigues. He didn’t wait, he went in fast and hard, too pissed to shout orders. Good thing Roscoe, who’d met up with them a few moments earlier, didn’t have a problem.
“FBI, hands on your head!”
“Federal Marshals, don’t fucking move,” Mac Mackenzie snarled.
“Stay the fuck down,” Roscoe’s voice boomed through the front room.
Frost quickly moved through the small, rundown house on the outskirts of the city. The print they’d found on the cell phone case matched a petty drug dealer by the name of Farlo Bailey.
“Where’s Farlo Bailey?” Mac asked the perp cuffed and sitting on the dirty sofa.
“Fuck you, pig.” The guy hawked up a loogie and spit covered Mac’s boot.
Frost moved lightning quick and had the guy by the throat. Rage filled his vision. He didn’t even feel the hands clawing at his arm as he squeezed, cutting off the guy’s air.
Storm’s hand came up and settled on his shoulder, but it barely registered. The whole room became like a heated sauna, even the air appeared foggy. The smell of chemicals and piss hung in the air.
Frost shook the guy and power lifted him with one arm. He slammed the suspect against the wall and held him there.
“Frost, hey buddy. He can’t speak if you choke him to death,” Wild whispered next to his ear.
Wild’s softly spoken words finally penetrated his rage. Snapping out of the red haze, Frost tossed the guy down on the sofa. He crouched in front of the man and the guy tumbled back, eyes wide with terror.
Frost pulled out a suppressor from his pocket and screwed it on the end of his gun.
Wild pushed the perp sideways and dug out the guy’s wallet. He flipped the ID open and showed it to Storm.
Storm, in turn, showed the driver’s license to Frost.
“Mac, Roscoe, you might want to leave the room,” Storm advised quietly and tossed the billfold onto the cushion next to Farlo Bailey.
Frost pulled off the chain that held the Marshal’s badge and tossed it to Mac.
Mac nodded, caught the badge, and then he and Roscoe turned without another word and walked out the door. Roscoe and Mac could both be heard shouting orders to their men.
“No! Don’t leave me with him! Come back!” Bailey wailed, finally finding his voice again. It sounded like raw sandpaper through his bruised throat.
“They aren’t going to help you,” Frost’s said in a deadly tone, his voice devoid of emotion. “Now, tell me about the guy you snatched at the grocery market last night.”
Seth had been gone almost twenty four hours. Every hour had been agony. They were running out of time. Frost pressed the end of the silencer right between the man’s eyes.
“Okay, don’t shoot. All I know was we were hired to take out the guy when we could.”
“Take out what guy?” Wild asked.
“A man named Seth O’Leary.”
“Who hired you?” Frost snapped.
“I don’t know his name.”
Frost pressed the gun harder.
“I’m telling the truth!” the guy wailed. “I don’t know his name, but I know someone who does.”