Chapter Twenty-Three
Dom slammed the truck’s door shut and charged to the uniformed officer standing at the bottom of the stairs to Daisy’s building. Not recognizing the cop, he tugged the spare detective shield from his pocket and badged him, hoping the guy didn’t know him or the fact that technically, he’d been fired from the NYPD. “Did Daisy Fowler leave this building?”
“No, sir.” The cop came to attention, clearly flustered by the unexpected appearance of a first-grade detective. “Detective Yates texted me a picture of her, so I know she hasn’t left.”
Dom drew his brows together. Could be Daisy was ignoring his calls, but something still bugged the shit out of him. “When’s the last time you checked in with your partner out back?”
“About an hour ago, sir,” the cop said. “All’s quiet.”
Dom glanced to Daisy’s living room window, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something’s not right here. I fucking know it.
“Call him. Now,” Dom ordered over his shoulder, taking the stairs three at a time, anger buzzing in his head like gunfire. Behind him, he heard the young officer trying unsuccessfully to raise his partner on the radio.
Dom flung open the vestibule’s outer door, then tried the inner door, knowing it was locked. Next he tried Daisy’s intercom buzzer, but she didn’t answer. After ringing it several more times with no response, he pounded on the vestibule’s glass door. “C’mon, c’mon,” he gritted out. But the hallway was empty.
Shit. He yanked out the Smith and Wesson holstered at his ankle, then held his forearm in front of his eyes and brought the butt down hard against the door. Glass shattered, most of it falling inside the vestibule. He reached in and turned the knob, letting himself in. Gun still drawn, he tore down the hallway and whipped open the door to the stairwell.
Hair on the back of his neck rose even more. He had a bad feeling about the unresponsive cop guarding the rear door.
As he ran up the stairs, his heart pounded and his gut churned with foreboding. This is so not fucking good. When he flung open the door and stepped into the deserted hallway outside Daisy’s door he froze.
The door to her place was wide open.
He aimed the .40 caliber at the open doorway. His heart raced, and he breathed through his mouth, trying not to make unnecessary noise. When he got to the door and looked inside the apartment his heart seemed to stop beating altogether.
Pottery shards littered the floor. Soil darkened the rugs, furniture, and walls.
With his weapon extended and his heart in his throat, he searched the kitchen next, then the bedroom and bathroom.
Daisy was gone.
He couldn’t breathe, and for a moment his tactical mind froze and he was incapable of rational thought.
Get it together. She needs you.
The phone in his back pocket vibrated and he pulled it out.
No caller ID.
Clenching his jaw, he answered the call and put the phone to his ear.
“I’ve got your girlfriend, asshole.”
He gripped the phone tighter, breathing through clenched teeth.
Smith. The fucker has Daisy.
“Get your ass to the hotel. Room 225. Come alone or she dies.” The line went dead.
“Sonofabitch.” He raced from the apartment, back down the stairwell, and into the vestibule. He shoved open the inner and outer doors, then bolted down the steps. Once inside his Explorer, he cranked the engine and gunned the vehicle down the street.
He pounded his fist on the steering wheel and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, zigzagging around cars at every intersection. Given that it was Sunday, traffic was lighter than on a typical weekday. By his estimation, he could make the hotel in ten minutes.
Again the phone rang, and he answered it without looking at the screen.
“Gonzalez is dead,” Gray said. “I found him in his apartment, two shots to the head. Your cover’s blown. Do not go to that hotel.”
Dom slammed on the brakes, barely missing a street vendor cart crossing an intersection. Tires screeched as the vendor flipped him the bird.
“You hear me?” Gray shouted.
“I have to go.” He slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the car launched through a red light. “They have Daisy.”
“How the fuck did they get to her with uniforms guarding the doors?”
Dom ground his teeth. “I think Smith took out the one guarding the rear door. His partner’s checking on him now. I’m betting he broke in with a crow bar.”
“Stand by,” Gray said.
Dom heard the muffled squawk of the police radio in the background. He couldn’t quite make out the words but heard Gray curse. After a moment, Gray came back on the phone.
“Smith bashed that cop’s head in. Ambulance is on the way.”
“Shit.” Dom gunned the Explorer faster down the street.
“This doesn’t change anything!” Gray shouted. “You still can’t go to that hotel. You’ll be walking into a trap. You know that.”
“Yeah, but I have to. Gray—” His voice choked. “I love her. I got her into this, and I’ll get her out.”
“Then you’re not going in alone. I’m on my way. I’ll grab as many uniforms and detectives as I can. This situation just changed, and to hell with what Shane wants.”
“No, Gray.” He jerked the wheel hard right onto Fifth Avenue. “I’m going in alone or they’ll kill her.”
“Bullshit! You go in alone and they’ll kill both of you. You know that!”
He gunned the engine faster. “Let me get inside first. If they see you and a contingent of cops right behind me she doesn’t stand a chance. Give me thirty minutes.”
Gray let loose with a string of expletives. “Fine, but not one second more. And partner?”
“Yeah?”
“Watch your ass.”