“What the fuck did you let her do.” I don’t phrase it like a question, as I crash through the door of Ian’s apartment, hands fisted and ready to finally hit this little shit. He was supposed to protect her. Watch her while I was gone. Instead, he’d fucked it all to hell. Ian’s huddled over something on his kitchen counter, back to me, though at least he flinches when I barrel inside. Least he could do, when he seemed utterly unsurprised after I called him an hour ago to tell him about Skye being kidnapped, and he just calmly invited me over to his apartment.

“I didn’t let her do anything. If you know my sister at all, you’d know that she does what she feels is necessary, whatever the situation.”

“You don’t know Rich like I do—”

“I know him plenty,” Ian snaps. “She took off and went to him herself. I didn’t let her do a fucking thing.”

“You don’t even sound worried. She could be dying in there right now, and you’re—what are you doing?” I stop short at the edge of the kitchen, having just crossed over to it ready to throw Ian off his stool.

Until I see the mess of wiring spread on the table before him. What looks like a short-range radio, attached to his computer, and a few other bits of metal equipment everywhere.

“Of course I’m worried. She’s my sister, Stone. I’m scared to death right now. But flying off the handle isn’t going to help her—not now.”

I grit my teeth. Mostly because there isn’t a way to help her, not that I can figure. Short of going back to Rich now and pulling some sort of wild, desperate stunt. I could trade myself for her. My life for hers.

I’m not sure Rich would take that deal.

I could bust in there guns blazing, but I wouldn’t make it farther than the front door. I clench my fists, because I hate feeling so helpless. Especially when it’s her at risk.

“Help me with this?” Ian says, and I finally realize what he’s doing.

“Is that…?”

“The wire radio the FBI gave me. Skye stole the wire this morning from my car. Left me a note at the motel that I found when I brought back lunch for both of us. It’s transmitting.”

“Let me hear her.”

Ian shakes his head. “There’s nothing now. I think they’ve gagged her.”

I shut my eyes tight. It takes me several slow, deep breaths to recover from that memory. The sight of her on the couch, eyes wide and frightened. “They had her gagged from the minute I got there.”

“Well, they had one conversation, between gaggings, then.” Ian hits a few buttons on the computer, and her voice pours through the speakers.

I wrench a chair around and drop into it beside him, leaning over the laptop to listen to every word she says.

And every word Rich says.

I didn’t think I could hate him any more than I already did. Oh, I was so wrong. I will tear that man’s head from his neck the next time I see him. Fuck Man Bun and the rest of his shit army—I don’t care if they kill me in the process as long as I take Rich down with me. He’d tried to touch her, has told her he will touch her, and that makes him a dead man.

“There,” Ian says, hitting pause, just as a high-pitched, muffled scream shoots over the microphone, and makes my whole body turn to water.

Skye. Fucking hell. What are they doing to her?

“Right before that scream. I think she’s calling our attention to something, but it’s quiet.” Ian taps a few more buttons, and the background sounds amplify to a much higher volume.

Take her down the back exit. Basement level.

My eyebrows furrow as I listen. Back exit. The Revel doesn’t have a back exit. Not on the floor where Rich does drops like this, the second story, away from the casino floor and wide windows of the first floor. He’ll use one of the private rooms, probably the big one so that he can post his men at every corner of it.

But if there’s a second entrance on that floor, another way in that I don’t know about—and that less people would be watching…

Ian and I exchange glances.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask.

Ian dips his head into a nod. “Maybe. Just got off the phone with my contact. He can get me the money—not the additional hundred thou that asshole is suddenly demanding I psychically knew to bring, but at least the base five hundred K.”

“But no backup,” I reply. It’s not really a question. I’ve worked in the underground for long enough to know how incompetent and under-resourced the FBI is. There’s a reason it takes years for the seedier fight spots to be found and for men like Rich keep their thrones for as long as they do.

“No backup,” Ian confirms.

I nod a few times. “Well. Then we’ve got some planning to do.”

It takes us the better part of the afternoon. It’s already sundown by the time we shake on the final plan. And now comes the hardest part.

I’ve pulled a lot of tricks before. Lied and cheated and gambled my way through dozens of dangerous, even deadly situations. But I’ve never dared to try those lies on the man who taught me everything I know about crime.

I’ve never bluffed Rich Tomlinson before until Skye.

First time for everything, I guess. I hole up in Ian’s back room, perch on the edge of his bed, the door locked, all distractions shut down. And I dial Rich’s number from memory, on the burner phone we picked up during a Taco Bell run at dinner time.

“Yes,” he answers. Same way he always does to strange numbers. No name. Give no identifying features that you don’t have to.

“It’s me,” I say, my voice gruff with annoyance.

“Stone. I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you so soon. Aren’t you halfway to Cuba by now, buying a beach house somewhere unreachable?”

I bark out a laugh. He knows I don’t have money like that. The money I made fighting went to my mother’s care at first and I’d burned through that fast. So fast that going to Rich for help seemed like the smartest option. “Like I can travel,” I growl, and he chuckles. “Even if I could, you know what ties me here.”

“You should let her go, Stone,” he says, and I swear the fuck almost manages to sound sympathetic.

“This isn’t about her,” I snap. Then I mollify my tone. Dial it down. He’ll be suspicious if I sound too generous right now. Too nice. I’m doing this out of duty, not any sense of affection, and he’ll damn well know that. “Not directly, anyway. It’s…”

“What’s the matter, do you miss me already?”

I scowl. “I just know how you are. You like your technicalities. Your contracts. You like your people to finish the jobs they start. I don’t want this shit blowing back on me, not if it hits the fan like I think it will. This was my last job for you, so I’ll finish it out proper, and then we’re more than square. Fair?”

“Who knew you could be so loyal, Xander.” He’s silent for a second, mulling it over, then he releases a breath. “Fine, that seems fair. What do you need to tell me with such burning urgency, then?”

“It’s about the brother. Ian.” I glance at the closed bedroom door. Picturing him crouched on the other side, still bent over the laptop on his kitchen counter. Trusting me. Putting all his faith in me, to save his ass and his sister’s both. “He’s working with the feds,” I say.