Dev’s expression was unforgiving. “You procured barely legal girls and brought them here—for purchase.”
“No! I catered a private party. That’s it. I might be guilty of ignorance and an incredible lack of observation skills,” she insisted, “but I’m not a trafficker. I’d never.”
Alec glared at her, not believing a word. He was done and wanted to hear only one thing. “Where would they have taken her. Tell me now, or I swear I’ll—” As he pushed forward, his rage boiling over, Dev held him back.
“I don’t know,” she repeated, eyes wide and wet. “Please. You have to believe me.”
Leland jogged over, breathless. “EMS has Jace. He lost a lot of blood, but he’s conscious. He should be okay.”
“That’s the only good news I’ve had today,” Dev said as he exhaled, talking more to himself than anyone else.
“What about Emily?” Leland asked. “If she’s wearing the earrings, we should have a signal.”
“Fuck me,” Alec cursed. The other two transmitters were lost, but she had a third.
He’d forgotten. Some white knight he was.
She’d called him that—her knight—just hours ago, voice soft, eyes steady.
He hadn’t deserved it then. He sure as hell didn’t now.
But he’d earn it by finding her and bringing her home safe.
He snatched the GPS Mateo was holding and switched the frequency. In just a few seconds, it pinged.
“They’re heading southeast toward the coast,” he said, voice tight. “We need to go. Now.”
He didn’t wait for orders. His long strides carried him out of the smoke-choked mansion. Without looking, he knew the team followed, boots crunching over glass and debris. The air outside was thick with salt and gunpowder. Sirens wailed in the distance.
A prayer formed on his lips—not polished or holy but raw and desperate.
Let me find her before they sell her. Before they ship her off. Before it’s too late.
Chapter 21
Pain exploded behind her eyes before she even opened them. Her limbs felt too heavy to move, her mouth as dry as the Sahara. Worst of all, her neck was on fire.
Then she remembered the jolt. She hadn’t seen what hit her, but it had to be a stun gun of some kind.
With every muscle protesting, Emily pushed herself up and looked around. Bars surrounded her—cold and unforgiving. Getting to her knees, ducking to keep from hitting her head, she gripped the metal, shaking with all her strength. They didn’t budge.
She’d been locked in. Caged like an animal.
Panic slammed into her. Her chest tightened, breath too fast, too shallow. She was going to hyperventilate—unless she stopped it now.
She forced herself to inhale slow and exhale long. In. Out. Again.
Alec had been right. She was in over her head. What had she been thinking?
She was a chef. Not an undercover agent. Not a fighter. Just a woman who’d wanted to help put an end to evil—and failed.
Jace had been shot. She’d been taken. And she hadn’t saved any of the victims—including the one locked in the cage across from her.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Are you all right?”
The girl stirred. Familiar dark springy curls bounced as she rolled to face her.
“Gaby?” Emily gasped.
