“They’re going to try to take me,” she says quietly.“I made sure of it.They want fresh meat, and they think I’ll bring a good price.”She pauses, and for a moment her eyes grow gentle.“And you’re going to let them.”
I want to tell her I’ll never let that happen, and that I’ll kill any man who tries to lay hands on her.That I can’t stand by while anyone else touches her or puts her in danger.I want to take her and force her into my car.Drive her home and keep her safe.
And I know I can’t.
So instead, I think about the plan and what it’ll bring us.She’s right about getting on the inside.It’s the only way to truly find out what’s going on, and with luck, where it’s happening.And she’s the perfect target.Gorgeous.Young.Seemingly innocent.
Except she’s not innocent at all.
And that might be the best part of the whole plan.
“We don’t have a way to get you back out,” I warn.
She shrugs.“I trust you to find me.”
My heart expands so quickly I think I might have a heart attack.She trusts me.
She trusts me to find her.
I lean forward and wrap something around her wrist, then kiss her forehead.“They’ll take your knife and any other weapon you have on you.They’ll take your dress.But make sure you keep that.”
I turn and leave before I can say anything else–like how fucking stupid this is–and trust her to do as I say.The hair tie has a tracking device embedded in it, and if she can keep it on her, I’ll be able to see where she is at all times.
I’ll be able to find her.
As I move back into the house, two of the men who’ve been following her all night brush past me, heading for Brooks.I hear a scuffle and a gasp, and then nothing, and I know they’ve got her.Probably a cloth soaked in ketamine to put her to sleep.Maybe chloroform.It doesn’t matter, not really.
The only thing that matters is that they’ve got her, and I’ve got to let her go.
After all, this is the only way we’ll get the information we need.
But I know I won’t rest until I have her back in my arms.
I have three days.
I’ve been in worse situations, I remind myself.And this time, Brooks Landry is the prize for succeeding.
Brooks
When I wake up, I’m still in the fancy dress I was wearing.
I am no longer in my father’s mansion.
I sit up with a gasp, registering several things at once: I’m in some sort of room with a bunch of other girls, and it’s far from the smoky, romantic gas lamps and gaudy decorations of my father’s house.It’s dank and dark down here, and though there’s light coming from somewhere, it’s not enough to see clearly.The air is close and humid, and I don’t smell any hint of fresh breeze.
I run my hands quickly down my dress, making sure it’s still intact, and realize it’s damp.Not like I’ve been dunked in water, but like I’ve been through dark, musty air.
I reek of the catacombs.
The thought brings me to my feet and I look around the room, trying to collect as much information as I can.The walls are the dark, dripping stone of the underground tunnels and the air is close, just as I would expect.
I’m not only not in my father’s mansion.I’m not even above ground.If I’m right, we’re in some type of holding cell, and it’s not on the surface.God, I don’t even know if we’re in the catacombs proper.Moisture is running down the wall next to me and pooling on the floor, and though the tunnels are damp, I’ve never seen anything like this.I feel as though we’re under a lake and the water is slowly winning the war against the ceiling above us.
That thought makes me want to throw up, though, and I put it away as quickly as I have it.Panicking isn’t going to do me any good.
At that moment, I realize that my hand is on my hip, and there’s nothing under my dress.My knife should be right there—the butterfly knife I always keep with me—but there’s nothing.Just my skin.
I reach quickly for the other holster strapped to my knee and search for the gun I had, but that holster is also gone.My phone is gone, because whoever brought me here took my purse.
