"They brought me to a warehouse after they took me off the street."
Cade managed a weak smile. "Tristan figured that out based on a blonde girl who went missing a few days before you were taken."
"That was Amy. She's had it bad," Natalie said sadly as her hands clenched in her lap. "I was in a room with her at first. She was freaking out, having panic attacks. I did what I could to help her, but they put her alone in a separate room. I heard someone come after they moved her, then screams and banging. It was horrible," she added, her sparks of outrage reminding Cade again of her brother.
Remembering the blonde girl's dissociative state, Cade's stomach twisted with renewed fury. All these assholes deserved to die. If they found the Handler and anyone else associated with this operation — when they found them — Cade vowed he would make sure they all suffered before he ended them.
"How did Tris get into the house?"
"He broke in. He broke into the warehouse, too. Like I said, he did dangerous things for you. He loves you a lot. He would do anything for you."
"Wow, that's... I don't know. Brave, I guess. I'd do anything for him, too. So what happened at the house?"
Not wanting to divulge that her brother almost died twice that night, Cade skipped over that part and said, "I had to kill Wilson, but he had already told his associates that Tristan was there, called him 'the red-headed reporter.' He was in danger, so I took him to a safe house to protect him."
"And you were at the safe house for six days? That's when you two became... close?"
"Yeah."
Natalie absorbed the news, then scrutinized Cade as if he were a lab experiment. "How close?"
He had no doubt she already knew the answer, and that she'd sense if he lied.
"Very close."
"Like... friends?"
"More than friends," Cade confessed.
Natalie's eyebrows shot up as if she hadn't expected him to admit it. "So, I guess you're really worried about him too."
"Yeah, you could say that," Cade muttered, even though 'worry' seemed a comically tame way to describe this suffocating, frantic desperation to find Tristan.
Natalie reached over and laid her hand on top of his, a gesture of comfort he hadn't known he needed. "You and your friends, you're all assassins?"
"Well, not Annabeth, but yeah." Wanting to make sure she understood their code, Cade clarified, "We take out rapists, murderers, traffickers, but I promise we don't kill innocents."
"I believe you. Are you good at that? Finding people and then, you know, killing them?"
"Yeah, we're good."
"Then you'll find Tristan."
Natalie's declaration, the faith she seemed to put in him and his associates, both encouraged and frightened Cade. The responsibility of finding Tristan settled like an enormous weight on his shoulders.
"I promise you I will do everything in my power to get him back safely," Cade vowed, meaning every word.
"I know you will," Natalie answered, squeezing his hand, and while the sweet gesture soothed his aching heart for a moment, it was soon drowned out by a crushing fear that he might let her down.
During the ride back to the city, Cade sat silent and brooding in the passenger seat, oblivious to voices and conversation around him. Though his eyes locked on the road ahead, the blur of streetlights and shadows barely registered. The world outside seemed irrelevant when all he could feel was relentless guilt coiling around him, squeezing his chest like a vise.
As his fingers curled into fists, then released, over and over, Cade's mind replayed the scene when he'd given in to Tristan's request. Despite his instincts, he'd told himself it would be fine, that it would make Tristan happy, but now everything had gone to shit.
And it was all his fault.
By the time they arrived at Hamm's house, Cade was wound so tightly, he feared the tiniest provocation might set him off. Heknew he needed to relax, to focus on solutions, but his emotions were swirling, crowding out any rational thoughts.
The group trudged down to the large, open room in the basement that held a boardroom-sized conference table, several monitors and computers on one side, and a brown leather sofa, two recliners and a big-screen TV on the other. Along one white wall were two open doors leading to a bathroom and a home gym, and a third closed door.
