Chapter Twenty-Two

Since the incident with Anya and Oceane yesterday, Rowan’s security team had gone into overdrive. Her protocols had been tightened and she was under strict instructions to do exactly as her agents said, the moment they said it. Other FBI agents had already checked to ensure the building for this meeting was clear, and two were posted inside now.

Rowan had been scheduled to arrive first, then Oceane a few minutes later, followed finally by Val. All in separate vehicles with their individual security details. Once the meeting about the financial information Anya had given investigators was over, Oceane would leave first, since she was at greatest risk. After that, Rowan and her boss would be driven to a different location to meet with Victoria Gomez, who would be waiting for them with her security team.

Rowan waited in the backseat of the SUV now, watching the FBI agent standing outside her door. The windows were darkly tinted but she could easily see him and hear what he was saying to Oceane’s team via his earpiece, since they were still en route from the WITSEC orientation center.

“Be advised, there’s an unmarked van across the street,” the agent said. “Two males in the front. Unknown number in the back. There’s another down here, not sure if it’s occupied. Suggest you reroute and wait until we’re in the building before approaching.”

Rowan automatically swiveled around to look behind them. Sure enough, there was the van, parked over in the far corner. It was early, but not too early for service or construction workers to be here, and her team was simply doing its due diligence to play it safe. Still, in light of the horrible tragedy yesterday, she was a little on edge as she waited for the agent to open her door.

The agent knocked once on the window, signaling for her to get ready. She gripped her briefcase tight in her left hand and prepared to make the short run to the entrance as instructed.

The moment the door opened, she shot through it and jogged straight for the door to the elevator where another agent waited, holding it open for her. Halfway there, she vaguely picked up the sound of a vehicle’s doors opening behind her.

“Get her inside, now!” her guard snapped.

Rowan wrenched her head around in time to see masked men burst from the van, holding rifles. Fear ripped through her. She swung her gaze front once more to find the guard at the door reaching for her, his weapon raised and his expression set. Urgent.

The staccato pop of semi-automatic gunfire shattered the silence. A scream locked in her throat as the guard at the door grabbed hold of her shoulder, yanking her inside the building.

Bullets slammed into the windows and door, spraying bits of glass down on them. The agent dragged her to the floor and landed on top of her, shielding her with his own body. The shooting got louder, more ferocious as the FBI agents returned fire. Bursts of shots came one on top of the other until it sounded like continual gunfire.

Then, suddenly everything got quiet. Over the ringing in her ears, the agent on top of her let out a vicious curse and scrambled off to drag her to her feet. “This way,” he commanded, seizing her by the upper arm. “Run and don’t stop until I say.”

Heart in her throat, Rowan rushed after him, her high heels sliding on the bits of glass. Her shins and the front of her thighs stung in places but she barely noticed, racing to keep up with the man, who raised his weapon as he wrenched open another door and pushed her up the stairs in front of him.

As she turned the corner of the staircase and began to run to the second floor, she glanced back and glimpsed the two FBI agents beside the SUV down. And the masked men bearing down on the entrance with their weapons up.

Terror rocketed up her spine. She kicked off her stupid shoes and fled up the stairs, her heart racing. She bit back a scream when the man at the base of the stairs fired his weapon.

A volley of rifle fire answered him. Rowan didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare slow down, racing for the upper hallway.

Another agent appeared on the landing, weapon drawn. “In here,” he shouted to her. Rowan ran for him, had almost reached the doorway he was in, holding out his hand to her, when an accented male voice called out from behind her.

“There’s nowhere to hide from us, bitch.” Then male laughter.

God, how many of them were there? More gunfire shattered the stillness. High-pitched pops amongst the staccato fire of the rifles.

Gasping for breath, her heart was about to explode, Rowan latched onto this new agent’s hand. He was talking to someone via his earpiece, demanding backup as he dragged her inside, quickly locked the door, and herded her away toward the far side of the room to another door.

He shoved her inside it. “Lock it. Don’t open it until I tell you to.”

Her hand shook as she turned the bolt home, then retreated to the opposite side of the storage closet and stood there with her back pressed to the wall, her breathing shallow as she stared at the door.

This was it. Her last refuge. If the agent on the other side couldn’t take down the attackers, then she was dead.

She squeezed her eyes shut, took a shuddering breath. She thought of Malcolm. Kevin. Her parents. I don’t want to die!

The thought had barely formed before gunshots ripped through the room. She swallowed a cry and forced her knees to hold her upright, her chest so tight she could barely draw a breath.

The shooting stopped. The resounding silence reverberated against her eardrums, mixing with the terrified thud of her heart. There was no way the FBI agent had survived that. She had no weapon. Nothing to defend herself with.

Rapid Spanish filtered through the door. Her heart sank, fear giving way to denial. Oh my God, you’re about to die and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The door handle rattled. She shifted her stance, balled her hands into fists, ready to fight if she could.

More Spanish, and an oily male snicker that made her skin crawl. A single gunshot hit the door. She flinched and pressed her lips together, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

A moment later the ruined door swung open. Before she’d even taken a single step, fist raised, hands reached in and plunged a hood over her head.

She fought it, grabbed at the fabric and tried to wrench it off but cruel fingers wrapped around her wrists and yanked them behind her, squeezing until her bones hurt. Something wound around them, imprisoning her hands.

“Don’t bother fighting, puta,” one of the men sneered, dragging her out of the closet.

“Or, go ahead and fight,” another argued. “We love it when women have some fight left in them.”

The smug male laughter infuriated her. Rowan yelled and kicked but it did no good. Two sets of hands had her now, immobilizing her as they hustled her out of the room.

Where were they taking her? Why hadn’t they just shot her? If they were planning to do to her what they’d done to Anya or Victoria, she’d rather have died here and now.

She twisted and bucked, got nowhere. The hood was stifling, the total lack of light completely disorienting. It felt like there was no air. Like she was slowly suffocating.

The sound of the men’s running footsteps changed as they hit the tiled hallway, then she bounced a little as they rushed down the stairs. They were going to take her out of the building. To what? That van?

Must. Get. Free.

Gritting her teeth, she wrenched up against the restraining hands. Her strength was waning, her muscles already weakening, but she couldn’t give up.

“Better save your strength,” the first man said with a chuckle. “You’re gonna need it, linda.”

The change in temperature told her they were outside now. She kicked her feet, hoping to smash the man holding her legs in the face. “Let me go,” she roared.

They tossed her into the air. She had only enough time to suck in a breath and brace for impact before she landed with a bone-jarring thud on something hard and metallic. Pain radiated throughout her ribs and hip, the side of her head where it had hit whatever they’d thrown her onto.

Doors slammed shut and she started moving. A vehicle. Maybe the van. God, where were they taking her?

She struggled to her knees. Something slammed into her temple. Pain shot through her skull as her head snapped to the side. She crumpled onto the floor of the vehicle.

“Stay down there where you belong, puta,” a hard voice warned, “or you’ll get more.”

Gasping, disoriented, Rowan curled onto her uninjured side and bit her lip to keep from crying. She had to be smart. Strong. Figure out how to survive whatever they had planned for her. Killing federal agents would rain hell down upon her captors. The FBI would be sending backup right now. A task force would be set up to find her.

Commander Taggart would be alerted. Malcolm would find out soon after that. He would do everything humanly possible to find her before it was too late.

Except she knew in vivid detail what these animals had done to Anya and Victoria. Ice congealed in her gut, terror snaking through her body. How could she endure that? How could she survive it?

Even though she couldn’t see through the impenetrable black fabric of the hood, Rowan squeezed her eyes shut and sent up a silent prayer.

Malcolm, help me. Please help me…

****

“Good to be back?”

Mal looked up from gathering his gear at Khan, the team medic, who was watching him from over at his locker with a knowing grin. They were kitting up for a training exercise to work on their urban combat skills, followed by a trip to the range for some long gun work.

“You have no idea.” He missed being with Rowan, but since that wasn’t a possibility, the only other place he wanted to be was with his team. Here he had a purpose and it felt good to be back in the fold again, with guys he knew and respected.

From over by the door, someone let out a shrill whistle. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over to where Commander Taggart stood in the doorway. “Listen up,” he said, closing the door behind him as he addressed the team. “We’ve got a major kidnapping situation unfolding right now.”

When that aqua gaze landed on Mal, a warning prickle started at his nape. Not Rowan. Jesus, not Rowan.

“Armed attackers assaulted Miss Stewart’s security team twenty-minutes ago.”

Mal shot to his feet, his heart rocketing into his throat. Fucking Christ. Next to him, Maka put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Mal barely refrained from wrenching away from it.

“HRT Commander DeLuca is aware of the situation and his boys are on standby. But the way things are going, both our units might be needed if the call comes in.” He paused a moment, his gaze lingering on Mal for a second, a kind of silent acknowledgment that he was aware of how Mal was feeling. “So everybody head to the briefing room. We’ll be getting updates and new intel in real time, so I want us up to speed and ready to go at a moment’s notice if they need us.”

Mal was the first one out the door behind Taggart, his body pulsing with helpless fury. Where was she? Was she injured? If those assholes had killed more federal agents, then she might have been shot too. Was it Ruiz, looking to stall his upcoming trial? Or Nieto, looking to make a statement?

“Freeman, wait.”

Mal stopped, realizing only then that he had barged outside instead of heading to the briefing room. Fighting to get control over his emotions, he slowly turned to face Hamilton and Prentiss.

Prentiss stopped a few paces from him, searched his eyes a moment. “I’m sorry, man. I know how much she means to you. And I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. I was out of my mind when they took Autumn.”

His little daughter, who they’d thankfully found and rescued in time. Mal didn’t bother denying that Rowan meant something to him, because it was an understatement and it felt like his fucking heart was being put through a shredder right now.

“Come inside,” Hamilton said quietly. “If we get the call, all of us need to be ready, so we can do what it takes to get her back.”

He was right, of course. “I just… I need a minute.” Mal’s voice was hoarse.

“I get it. But when you’re ready, come to the briefing room so we can get to work.” Then he pointed at the building behind him, his expression earnest. “Every last guy in there is here for you. For her. We’ll get her back.”

If someone finds her and we even get the call.

Mal pushed the awful thought away and nodded, because what the hell else could he do, and his team leader was just trying to give him hope. When Prentiss and Hamilton turned to walk away, Mal couldn’t help saying, “You know what they did to Victoria. To Anya.” Hamilton had spent more time with Victoria than anyone else on the team. He’d seen in grim detail the damage they’d done to her. And Prentiss had been the one to find her in the woods that night.

His team leader turned to face him. His demeanor was calm and steady as ever. But those steel gray eyes glowed with deep, burning rage. “I know. But none of that’s gonna happen to Rowan. They’ve already got teams out looking for her, and a net set up. Roadblocks into and out of the city are in place and they’re analyzing CCTV footage now. She’s going to be okay.”

The fierce way Hamilton said it, Mal almost believed him. They would find Rowan. But there was another part, deep down inside where his most secret fears lay buried, that was fucking terrified they wouldn’t find her in time.