The city is strangely silent as I walk. I ignore the throbbing in my leg, pushing it far past the point that I’m supposed to. My physical therapist would lose his shit, but at this point, my brain needs the exercise more than my leg needs its nightly rest.

How could she?

The words echo in my head, over and over. It’s like a mantra, an unwanted one. Something evil and intrusive in my brain, stuck on repeat.

It’s clear exactly how she could. It was all for Chloe. Like everything in my life has been since I met her. My mind gets it. But my heart breaks every time I go over it in my imagination.

I’ve practically walked to Brooklyn and back, and while I don’t feel any better about the fact that Arie lied to me, I know why she did. People do crazy things when they are scared, and she had plenty of reasons to be beyond terrified. I don’t know how she has managed to stay disconnected from Chloe for so long; it must have been tearing her apart. I can’t imagine a day without Chloe. I’ll be angry for a while, but at the very least, I think I can begin to forgive her.

I’m angry at myself, too. For not knowing. For not being there. For fucking her over and leaving her in the first place. Pregnant, alone. And then sick.

Why wasn’t I there?

That’s the other thing I focus on, even though it doesn’t do me a damn bit of good. I can’t go back in time and make it all right. Undo everything that’s been done. I wish to God I’d never left.

But one thing is for sure… I refuse to let her go. Not again.

I walk back into the building, and am surprised not to see Thomas hurrying to the door to greet me. It’s his week of working nights, so he should be at the desk at the very least. But I don’t see anyone. In fact, there is something unsettlingly quiet about the entire lobby.

“Thomas? Buddy?” I call out. But I don’t get an answer. I walk slowly around the corner of the lobby desk, wishing I had my gun on me, even though I don’t technically have a reason to be concerned yet. I step up to the desk and lean over, and realize that yes… I should have my gun.

Thomas is in a heap on the floor, blood pooling underneath him from a head wound. I can see his eye twitching, and his chest rising and falling, so I know he’s alive. But he may not be that way for long. I leap over the desk and come crashing down on my useless leg, trying to ignore the searing pain that shoots from my foot up to my hip. I crouch down next to Thomas and try not to move him; afraid I might worsen whatever condition he’s currently in.

“Thomas! Thomas man, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

His eyes flutter, and he opens one eye lazily. He looks dazed, definitely concussed, and he groans.

“Mr.… Cochran. A man. He… asked… about Arie. Then he… with the butt of a gun. My head really hurts, Mr. Cochran.”

My blood turns to ice in my veins. I want to bolt upstairs and straight to Arie, but I can’t. Not yet.

“Don’t move, Thomas. Just breathe. I’m going to call you an ambulance, okay?”

I grab the phone off the desk, call 911, then take off my shirt and put it under Thomas’ head, so at least he’s not lying directly on the cold tile floor. Once he’s secured, and I can hear the sirens of the ambulance in the distance, I run up the stairs for at a time, pain be damned. I use my keycard to unlock the private door, and when I get inside, my stomach drops again at the sight before me.

The apartment has been trashed. It looks both like there has been a struggle, as well as that someone has just intentionally destroyed the place. I carefully into the living room, trying not to disturb anything in case I need to bring in the FBI. I know there is zero chance she’s still here, but I have to try.

“Arie? Baby? Are you here?”

When I see the kitchen, I know for sure she’s gone. There is blood on the floor and the counter, and strands of her hair are everywhere, as if someone grabbed her by her hair and pulled her backwards. I back out of the kitchen, and bolt for the bedroom.

Please don’t have taken the computer.

Please don’t have taken the computer.

I throw the bedroom door open and can just see the corner of my laptop sticking out from under my pillow. I slide it out and flip straight to the security cameras, then rewind until I see it. I see everything. A man walking in from the elevator, Arie slowly trying to back away, then darting for the kitchen and grabbing for the knife. But the man beat her into the kitchen, and hit her with his gun, sending her crumbling to the floor. But not before she slammed her head on the corner of countertop.

My stomach drops. The man never shows his face, and without a direct ID, it’s going to take me forever to find some trace of him in the apartment. I don’t know what I’m going to do, when suddenly I notice, the man reaches into his pocket to take out his cell phone. I turn up the volume as high as it will go, and can just make out his gruff and miserable voice.

“…in the lobby… Nah, she’s out like a light. Should I bring her to the house?... No, you’re right. Stupid idea. The warehouse by the dock?... You got it… No problem, Mr. Cannizzo.”

I slam my fist down on the bed. “That fucking son of a bitch!” I scream out loud just for the satisfaction. But I know I don’t have time to be pissed right now. I need to figure out where they took Arie. I use my access to the public records research database I have through work, and find that Sonny Cannizzo owns a warehouse, but the address has been deleted as a matter of public record. Cannizzo probably paid off a politician to get the information removed. I know that I should call the police, the FBI… get hostage negotiators involved, people who aren’t personally invested in the outcome of whatever happens next.

But all I want to do is put my hands around that man’s throat and squeeze. So, if I want to have the satisfaction of making the man pay for hurting Arie, I’m going to have to take care of this myself. And there is only one man who can help me.

I fish Roger Bailey’s card out of my pocket and make the call.

I can hear Bailey swipe everything off his desk in anger, and something glass shatter on the floor.

“Are you kidding me? She had twenty-four hours! That son-of-a-bitch. Wait… How do you know about her and me? Did she tell you?”

I grumble. “Yes, she told me. And we don’t have time to talk about this now, Bailey. I need your help. Cannizzo had her taken to a ‘warehouse by a dock.’ But the city records have been redacted, and I don’t have time to go through my usual channels. I thought you might know something I don’t.”

Bailey shuffles around some papers and I hear the sound of keyboard clicking. “This is going to take me a minute, Cochran. I’m not some mob lawyer who represents made men. I just happen to know people who know people who work for people like that. I need to see if my contact in Mexico is… Wait. Hold on.”

He puts me on hold, and I think I’m going to put my fist through the wall. Every minute that ticks by is a minute Arie thinks I’m not coming for her, and it’s making me sick. Just went I think I might lose my mind with worry, Bailey comes back.

“All right, my guy in Mexico was awake. He said the warehouse in Brooklyn. I’m texting you the address now. But listen, Cochran… Be careful. Sonny Cannizzo is a dipshit, but his son Angel is a monster. He’ll shoot you down as soon as look at you. So, don’t make the mistake of thinking he will show you any respect, or decency.”

I thank him and hang up. Then I take a deep breath and prepare for whatever is about to happen. And then I get my weapons.

I drive to the docks in Brooklyn, and park as close to the warehouse as can without running the risk of being detected by Cannizzo or any of his goons. I’m in my tactical gear, which I haven’t so much as looked at since I got hurt, and the pants feel tight against the wounded muscle in my leg. My knife is strapped to hip, and I have my gun in my hands, as I inch my way around corners, until I’m standing outside the door that leads into the Cannizzo warehouse.

It’s completely unmarked, and anyone walking by would probably assume it was abandoned. But through a dirty window, I can just make out the telltale signs of life inside. A gently glowing light is illuminating a hallway in the distance, and I can see a shadow moving back and forth under the light. I know I can’t just walk through the front door, so I have to find a different way in. And considering the building seems to have a limited number of entrances, I’m not sure how I am going to get inside.

With steps as light as I can manage, I weave my way around the warehouse, until I come upon a slightly ajar window facing the water. The problem is, the window is over the water, so I will have to shimmy along the edge of building and hope my leg can hold me. I use the edge just over top of the water to keep myself up, then tip-toe slowly across, until I’m able to hang off the window ledge.

I use all of my upper body strength to pull myself up, and look inside. The room is dark, with only the faintest trace of light from outside creeping in. But it’s just enough for me to make out Arie’s back. She is tied to a chair, arms and legs, but I can see she has been working to get free, because one of her hands has almost come loose from the zip-tie. I’m thrilled she’s still alive, I know that Cannizzo and his man won’t let her stay that way for long. As quietly as I can, I push the window open just enough so I can roll inside. But I miscalculate the shittiness of the building, and the window squeaks a lot more loudly than I would like.

When I land on the floor, Arie’s head spins around.

“Who is there? Who the hell is that?”

I rush up behind her in a squat run and whisper in here, “Hell of a tight spot you’ve gotten yourself in here, Arie Blanchard. How were you planning to get out of this one?”

Arie lets out a long, exhausted sigh. “Pierce! Thank goodness! How did you find me? How did you… you know what. Never mind. You can tell me later. Get me out of here. Cannizzo is gone for the time being, but that shithead Danny is just outside the door and I don’t think he will take too kindly to finding you here.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” I say as I take out my knife and cut her wrists free. She groans as she pulls her hands around front and inspects the damage, then tries to stretch out some of the pain. “I’m more than going to get you out of here. I’m going to make that man pay for what he did to you.”

I’m just about to cut away the ties holding her ankles to the chair when the locks on the door start clicking. Arie turns to me, panicked.

“Hide. If he finds you as soon as he gets in here…”

I make a face at her. “Arie, I’m a SEAL,” I hiss. “You think some mob schmuck is going to get the drop on me?”

“He has a gun, you idiot. And trust me when I say he’s faster than you expect him to be. Please, just hide!”

I dive for the darkest corner of the room where I can blend in, and hopefully, get the drop on this douchebag. I watch as he walks inside, with an arrogant stroll that just pisses me off more. He walks up to Arie, and gets way too close for my comfort.

“Well, Miss Blanchard. It looks like the boss is on his wake back. And when he gets here, he said I can do whatever I want to you.”

That’s all it takes. All of my training tells me to wait until he’s totally vulnerable, but hearing him threaten Arie like that, my Arie… It’s too much. I slide up behind him and before he even has time to realize that I’m there, my knife is at his throat. He sucks in a deep breath, but doesn’t dare speak, so I do the talking for him.

“Listen. And listen closely. You have precisely two ways out of this. One is in a body bag. The other is in a police car. But in one of those options, you are alive. So, I’d think about this carefully if I were you. Either you call your boss and tell him to meet you exactly where I say, then you trade places with Arie and sit still like a good boy until the cops come for you…”

Danny snorts. “Or what?”

“Or I let you go and you find out all the ways the Navy taught me to make a man’s dying moments the most miserable of his life.”

He doesn’t answer for longer than is probably appropriate given his options. Finally, he shrugs his shoulders a little in what feels like an attempt to get me to loosen my grip. I don’t.

“And where exactly am I telling the boss to meet you?” he asks sarcastically.

“The coffee shop on Avenue A and Second in an hour. Tell him Arie is secure, but you need to talk him about something important. And if he doesn’t meet you, it could mean trouble for the whole Cannizzo family. Got it?”

Danny squirms, and grumbles. “Fuck, man. I got. But you have to let me have a hand or I can’t make the call, ya know?”

I give him enough leeway to get his phone from his picket, and he makes the call. I search both voices for any sign that they are betraying a code, but I don’t pick up on anything. So, when he hangs up, I take a couple of zip-ties out of his jacket pocket, and start by tying his wrists together. I pull the plastic tie a lot tighter than it needs to be, but I don’t really care if his hands fall off from blood loss. He would deserve it. Then I cut Arie’s legs loose from the chair, and the minute she’s free, she stands up, jumps up and down a few times, walks over to where Danny is standing…

And kicks him square in the balls.

He goes down like a ton of bricks.

That’s my girl.