What the hell?

I sit on the bed, a little confused, a little scared, a whole lot worried.

He said he can’t do this to me—but do what to me?

Leave me? Apparently so, but I’m certain that’s not all of it and I’m angry and hurt and frustrated.

More than that, I’m pissed and I’m embarrassed and I’m determined to figure out what the hell is going on.

I hurry back upstairs and get dressed, tossing on the first jeans and T-shirt I come across. I don’t know for certain that he’s going to the Hamptons house, but I figure it’s a good bet. For one thing, he used to own an apartment in the city, but he sold it recently and hasn’t bought a new one yet. For another, even if he’s not there, Archie can tell me where he is. And at any rate, right now I’m too wired not to do something.

I consider calling his cellphone, but dismiss the idea. He won’t answer, and I’m not interested in playing phone tag. I just want answers.

I just want him.

So I drive too fast through the night, my head filled with worries and fears. I’d known that being with Dallas wouldn’t be easy, but I’d really thought that we were communicating now, and this sudden and complete shut-down is truly freaking me out.

Was it me?

Was it seeing Brody? Realizing that I’ve slept with other men?

Was it the bondage? Because he knows that it scared me?

Why the hell isn’t he just talking to me?

Questions run on an endless loop through my mind, but I still have no answers when I arrive at the house. I let myself in, thankful he didn’t think to change the lock and alarm codes, then race upstairs to his bedroom.

It’s empty, and for a second I think that he stayed in the city. That maybe he just went to his office. Or that he bought an apartment I don’t know about.

Or that he’s staying with a woman.

I swallow the bile that rises with that thought and start to press the intercom for Archie. But then I remember the security monitors and I push the button to acquire video for the garage. Dallas’s car is there, which means that he’s here, too. In the house or on the property, and I start scrolling through the screens to look for him.

By the time it cycles back to the garage, I’m baffled. He’s nowhere to be found; either he’s not here at all or he’s in a room with no security monitor.

I remember what Brody said about his playroom, and my stomach twists again. Is that where he is? In a hidden hardcore dungeon with another woman? One he’s comfortable taking to the edge because he’s taken her there already?

One he’s not afraid to taint?

I close my eyes in defense against the violent need to lash out. Damn him. I thought he understood. I thought he believed me when I told him that I would go there with him.

Bastard.

I don’t even realize I’ve made a decision until I’m heading down to the basement. It’s the best guess I have as to where the playroom is located, and since I don’t remember seeing it on the security feed, I’m pretty certain I’m right.

It’s accessed through stairs in both the kitchen and the garage, and I head to the kitchen, then descend to the next level, most of which is used for bulk pantry space and other storage. I walk down the narrow corridor that I remember so well from my childhood. There’s a door at the end, and I pass through, then down another set of stairs that form a hard right angle before reaching the basement door.

I expect that door to be closed, but as I get closer, I realize that it isn’t because I can hear voices, and I realize that my fears were justified, because the voice I hear is a woman’s.

I can’t make out words—honestly, I feel too sick to even concentrate—and I’m walking faster now, fueled by hurt and anger.

But when I get to the doorway, there’s no toy-filled dungeon, but some sort of high-tech operations system that rivals what I’ve seen with Bill at WORR. Hell, it probably rivals the Pentagon.

I freeze just outside the door, my hand over my mouth as I look around and try to understand what I’m seeing. The video monitors. The maps. The various computers doing unknown tasks.

What the hell?

The woman’s voice is coming from a video screen. It’s on a loop, and she’s running on a beach, urging whoever is holding the camera to “come on, handsome, don’t make me wait.”

I frown, confused. Is she talking to Dallas? I don’t think so, because he’s barely even looking at the video. Instead, he’s angled to look at another monitor, this one showing a map of Mexico.

Then it fades, and I almost yelp when Liam’s face pops onto the screen in its place.

Seriously. What. The. Fuck?

“She went missing yesterday,” Liam says. “Her boyfriend reported it to local authorities. It’s the case I mentioned, and she’s skipped out on family and friends before, which is why we did a little more investigation before confirming the kidnapping.”

“How did she end up on our radar?” Dallas asks.

“Her father is business partners with Mr. Liu, and was aware that Liu came to us instead of Chinese officials to get back his little boy. The burner phone we issued Liu is still active and linked to Tony’s burner for another two days. Standard follow-up in case the boy needs special attention. He left a message. He wants to give Deliverance forty-eight hours, then pull in the feds.”

Deliverance.

I start to sag, then reach for the doorframe to steady myself. “What leads do we have?” Dallas asks.

“We’ve tracked her to Mexico City. I have Tony looking at—behind you. Shit.”

Dallas slams his palm down on a button on the console in front of him. Immediately, all the monitors in the room go dark.

He turns then, and when he sees me, his eyes go wide. “Jane.”

“You’re Deliverance?” My chest is so tight I can barely force out the words.

I watch as a flurry of emotion washes over his face. I’m holding my breath in defense against the truth that is coming. The truth that is so damn obvious there can be no other explanation even though I desperately hope I’m wrong.

“Tell me, dammit.”

“Yes,” he finally says. “I’m Deliverance.”