“I doubt he’d be stupid enough to keep it on.” Roarke crossed his arms over his chest. It wouldn’t be that simple. But he hoped to hell he was wrong.
Viper strode to the computer. “But if he did, we’ll know where he is.”
Roarke drifted closer to the desk. Hope spurred through him.
“Holy shit,” Viper hissed. “The cell was just turned on five minutes ago.”
“Trace it!” Roarke bellowed at Wraith.
“On it,” his friend said distractedly. “We’ve got a rough location from the cell tower. It’ll take a few minutes to lock in on the device—provided no one shuts it off before then.”
“Fuck,” Roarke whispered, turning away to wrap both hands around the back of his neck. “How long?” he demanded.
“Could be ten minutes.”
Jesus, he couldn’t take the tension. He dragged a breath through his nose and directed himself to the hallway, needing to clear his head.
He wandered into the bedroom that Laine and Emmy had slept in just an hour earlier. The rumpled blankets made anxiety stack heavier against his chest.
They’d been scared. Laine would’ve tried to hide Emmy. Emmy would’ve cried and hugged her bunny, which, unbeknownst to all of them, had led Cameron right to their door.
I’m so sorry, Lainie. I never should’ve left you two.
Would they ever forgive him? Would Ollie?
He closed his eyes, knowing the answer.
Laine managedto hide the phone in the shelf bra of the camisole she wore beneath her oversized sweater. Then she crawled around the floor as far as the chain would allow—only about four feet of movement in either direction. Stretching her arm behind her, she scooted to a full garbage bag leaning against the wall.
Reaching with her unbound hand, she couldn’t quite grasp the plastic. She muttered a curse, then spun on her butt so she could use her leg. Gripping the bag between her toes, she yanked, tipping it over. The contents spilled out—mostly fast-food wrappers.
Then a glass beer bottle rolled over the cement floor, as if she were playing a sick game of spin the bottle. She swallowed a whoop of excitement and picked up the weapon.
Aged golden liquid stuck to the bottom. She had to smash it without making noise. Rooting through the rubbish, she found a rag that smelled like a urinal and wrapped it around the top half of the bottle to muffle the sound. She scooted back to the radiator, took a deep breath, and smashed the bottle against the hard steel.
Her wrist jolted and pain shot up her arm, but the stupid thing didn’t break. Shuffling so she was on her knees and could use more force, she tried again.
This time, a satisfying crack sounded beneath the rag.
A blanket of relief wrapped around her shoulders. She laid the bottle on the ground and peeled open the cloth. Numerous small pieces glittered at her. The bottle was split in half, and its neck was jagged.
Cold droplets of trepidation collected at the back of her neck. Once she attacked Cameron, shit would escalate quickly. She’d have to get the key to the padlock holding her chain in place. She’d seen him slip it into his pants pocket.
The bit after that would be the hardest: getting upstairs and finding Emmy without alerting the guards. Hell, just taking out Cameron without making too much noise would be impossible.
No, there had to be a chance. She wouldn’t go down without fighting.
She hid the bottom piece of the bottle behind the radiator, then shuffled back to her spot on the floor. Not only wouldshe have to summon him downstairs—which would piss him off because he was likely sleeping—but she’d also have to get him to come close enough for her to strike him in a vital area.
She’d have to stand.
After dragging the chain up the rung of the heating element, she positioned it at the top and stood. Her legs trembled, and a layer of cold dampness coated her skin.
She could do this.
Had to do this.
Her knees rattled as she leaned against the cold radiator for support. Grabbing the chain in her bound hand, she shook the metal against the element. The chain clanked, steel bouncing off steel, and the sound rang through the basement.
