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“It has to be this one,” Greg spoke. John had tracked down three properties owned by Bernie in Chicago. The first two were empty warehouses, probably used for shipments. The third was a condo. More of an entire floor than a single unit in the sky rise, but it didn’t matter. It had to be it.

“If he took her to one of his own properties, yeah. I think process of elimination would work in our favor,” John said from the driver’s seat.

Greg ignored the doubt laced in his words. This was it. She was here. He could feel it.

“When will Gary call in?” Greg asked, staring out the passenger window at the building across the street. She was up there.

Was she scared? Had Bernie hurt her?

“In a minute. He’s making the delivery now.” John looked at his phone. They’d sent one of his men up to the condo with a pizza delivery. A camera was sewn into the man’s hat, giving them visuals as he made the drop.

Blake leaned between the seats from the back and watched with John and Greg as the door to the condo opened.

A woman, maybe five years older than Nora opened the door. Although quite pretty, she looked as though the world had run her down. An aged appearance on such a young woman.

“We didn’t order a pizza.” The woman spoke softly, looking over her shoulder nervously. “Please, go.”

“I was told to deliver this to this residence. It’s already paid for, you sure?” Gary held out the box. “If I go back with it, I’ll get in trouble. So, if you don’t take it, I’m just gonna throw it in the garbage,” he pressed.

She looked again over her shoulder. “Fine. Just please, go.” She grabbed the box, disappeared back into the condo, and slammed the door.

“It’s in, you can turn the audio on now,” Gary spoke as he went back to the elevator.

“What if they actually eat the pizza? They’ll see the mic,” Greg asked.

John shook his head. “They won’t eat the pizza.”

Greg wouldn’t mind having some of John’s confidence at the moment. The longer it took to get up there, the more horrifying the scenarios playing in his head became.

“Who was at the door?” Bernie’s voice came through.

“Pizza guy.”

“We didn’t order a pizza.”

“I know. They must have written down the wrong address and they delivered it,” the female said. “Maybe Elenora would like it?”

Greg held his breath waiting for Bernie’s response. She was there, but was she hurt?

“No. Mr. Smith will be here any minute. He’s not going to want pizza sauce all over his property. Just leave it in the kitchen. Then go back to her room and get her ready. She won’t need clothing but brush her hair. Throw on some lip gloss or something. And if her face is all puffy from crying, put a cold compress on it.”

Greg’s gut twisted.

“Who’s Mr. Smith?” Blake asked in a hushed town.

“I have an idea, but I’m hoping I’m wrong. Here.” John handed the phone to Greg and pulled out a second device, tapping away on it.

“I can’t hear, they must have moved away from the box,” Greg said.

“Okay, here it is. Yeah. We had a case last year that involved a girl gone missing. We recovered her, but she couldn’t give us any information on who took her. She just called him Mr. Smith.”

“So, you think he works with Bernie, a client?”

“He referred to Nora as property. I would bet Mr. Smith is the one Bernie’s trying to sell her to,” John said.

Blake put his large hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Don’t run off. Wait for Gary to get back and we’ll get organized. You can’t just run up there with your gun waving around.”

Greg looked at his foot, bandaged and stuffed in a fucking orthopedic boot. He wasn’t running anywhere.

Gary climbed into the back seat. “Okay. What’d I miss?”

“Well, she’s definitely up there,” John answered.

“From what I saw, there’s just the one main entrance. I’m sure there are fire escapes, but I didn’t see any other elevators in the building, so I don’t think he has a private one from his own condo.”

“Do we have time to get more men? Put them on the fire escapes?” Blake asked.

“No. I want to get up there now. Who knows what he’s done to her already or what will happen when Mr. Smith gets there. Surprise attack, it’s really our only option right now. We go up and when the door opens we rush in. It didn’t sound like other people were up there. Maybe he only has the woman,” Greg pressed. Waiting meant she’d have more chances of being hurt, left alone, and scared.

“Or his guards were just not talking,” John snapped.

“What do you suggest then?” Greg asked.

John shook his head. “We don’t have time to wait for more men to get here, and they’re working cases right now too. We’ll go up, but you stay in the back, Greg. With your injuries, you’re slow, and you’ll just be more of a liability.”

Greg’s hackles raised, but he knew they were right. Marching off into battle with a fucked-up foot, shot-up arm, and broken ribs wasn’t going to get him very far. And the mission was too important to fuck it up for his pride.

After he nodded in agreement, the four men moved into action. Armed with a small arsenal, they marched through the lobby of the building, Gary taking care of the rent-a-cop sitting at the concierge desk before joining them at the elevator.

“When we get out of the elevator, the door is straight ahead,” Gary told them while adjusting the strap on his weapon.

The tension built in the small elevator as the men waited for the floor to come up. Greg gripped his gun, clenching his teeth. If anything happened to her, if they touched her, he wanted to kill Bernie his own way. Not a quick shot to the head, but he would have to get to him first.

The ding of the elevator refocused Greg to the mission at hand and he focused on the doors sliding open. The front door was right there, and it was open. The woman who’d opened the door for the pizza stood in the narrow opening, panic on her face.

“Are one of you Greg?” she whispered into the hall before checking behind her.

Greg pushed forward to the door. “I am.”

“Elenora is in the bedroom. Bernie just went in there with Mr. Smith.” She pulled the door open and waved them in. “Straight down that hall to the right.” She pointed.

“You need to get out of here, but don’t go far. Wait down in the lobby,” Gary said to the woman, but Greg was already hobbling down the hall.

John and Blake stepped up, pushing him back again.

“When we get in there, you have to stay calm,” Blake said with a hushed voice.

“You realize I’ve been on missions before,” Greg snapped.

“Yeah, I do, but not one of them was to save a woman you loved. It’s different,” Blake shot back with a shove to his shoulder.

“The two of you can work out your sibling rivalry when we’re done here.” John poked Greg in the back.

They came up to the bedroom door.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Nora’s stubborn cheek came through clear. Good girl; she hadn’t lost her spirit.

“She’s a bit feistier than her mother was. But she looks so much like her.” Another voice, assumedly Mr. Smith, followed.

“Yes, and I have the report from the doctor for you. Responds well to stimulus. You’ll enjoy playing with her, I think,” Bernie said.

Greg pushed John and signaled for him to get moving.

John glanced at Blake then with a nod, he pushed forward, opened the door, and then barged in, guns raised and trained on the two men.

Greg’s gaze found Nora and air finally entered his lungs. Breath came easier, his heart didn’t ache with every beat. She was safe. And appeared to be untouched.

“What is this?” Mr. Smith, an old stick figure of man with a pointed nose and white hair sputtered, putting his hands in the air.

“This is my ride,” Nora said, a smile creeping onto her lips, but Greg could see the fear still on the surface, in her eyes.

“Fucking bastard!” Bernie stuttered and spit, his face reddening as he glared at Greg.

“Where are your men?” Mr. Smith demanded. “Why don’t you have men here?”

Greg wondered the same thing, but he was too busy making his way to Nora.

“Because selling Elenora Santucci isn’t allowed,” John stated bluntly. “She’s protected by Santinelli. Bernie here doesn’t trust his men not to turn him in to the boss.”

Greg yanked off his shirt, ignoring the pain in his arm and ribs and quickly covered Nora with it. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.

“You’re okay!” she said, tears falling down her cheeks.

“In one piece anyway,” Greg said, holding her tight to him.

John and Blake had the two assholes under control. Greg’s only concern now was Nora.

“Did they hurt you? Are you okay?” He looked her over.

“No, I’m fine,” she assured him, though a deep blush covered her cheeks. He’d find out about that later, when the other men weren’t in the room to overhear.

“You can’t just take them,” Nora said to John. “The police don’t care. Most of them are in the Santinelli pocket.”

“Oh, we’re not taking them to the police.” John looked at Greg. “You take care of your girl, and let us handle this?”

Blake had Mr. Smith zip-tied and in his grasp.

“Yeah.” Greg nodded. As happy as putting his boot through Bernie’s face would make him, he had bigger responsibilities now.

“I think we should get to a hospital, have you checked out,” Greg said to Nora.

“No. Please. Just take me home.” Her wide eyes looked up at him, the plea in her voice real.

He could check her over himself.

“Okay.”

“Gary’s bringing the other car around. He’ll get you two home, and we’ll take these two,” John explained as he shoved a now gagged Bernie from the room.

“Blake, don’t do anything—”

“That I can’t live with,” Blake finished for his little brother. “I can live with this. Don’t worry.” He then looked at Nora. “You take care of your girl.”

Greg nodded and refocused on Nora. “You have clothes here?”

“Yeah, that woman put them in the closet.”

“She let us in, told us where to find you quick,” Greg said, grasping at things to say. Normal things. He had too many questions to bother her with yet.

Nora snorted. “I’ll tell you about her later.”

Greg narrowed his gaze. There was a lot of information coming his way, he thought. But first he needed to get her dressed and home.

His home.

In his bed.

Because that’s where he kept his things. And that’s what she was.

His.