“I cracked the password on Hope’s old email account,” Wren says. Her voice doesn’t waver, but she glances up at Ry. The man peers down at her laptop, and a muscle in his jaw starts pulsing rapid fire. “This was the most recent message.”
I have been patient long enough, Hope. If you don’t return to me within twenty-four hours, you won’t like the consequences.
A rough sob tears from Hope’s throat. Her knees buckle, and I pull her tighter to my side.
“There’s more,” Wren says quietly. “A video.”
On screen, a woman cowers on the floor of a brightly lit room. Her gray dress is torn and bloody. Bruises cover her arms and legs. One eye is swollen shut.
“Bettina!” Hope cries. “No…”
A man’s voice barks out an order. “Tell her! Now!”
“M-Miss H-Hope,” the woman whispers. She’s shaking so badly, she can barely speak. But as she peers up at the camera, her gaze hardens. “Don’t come back—”
Three men surround the woman, kicking her from every angle. The camera doesn’t capture their faces, but they’re all big guys. Bettina curls into a ball, sobbing, until one of them catches her in the head, and she passes out.
“Let’s play a game, Hope,” a male voice says. “It’s called ‘Simon says.’ It’s simple. Simon says get your ass back here and maybe he’ll let the bitch live.”
The video stops, and Wren turns off the screen. “The time stamp on the email message is two hours ago. Ninety minutes after the FBI opened an official investigation based on the information on the memory card,” she says.
“Son of a bitch.” Ryker kicks a small plastic trash bin halfway to the boxing ring. “I’m calling Pritchard. And Connor. Whoever told Arrens about the investigation is going to regret the day they were born.” He pulls out his phone and sweeps a gaze around the room. “Anyone who can’t be wheels up in three hours better say something right fucking now.”
No one says a word until Ripper stands. “Ry?”
“I know, brother. You’re staying here.”
Rip swallows hard and straightens his shoulders. “No. Not this time. I’m going with you.”
18
Hope
Ryker’s team is in constant motion. Packing weapons. MREs. Tech.
All I can do is sit on the couch, my arm around Murphy, and stare off into space.
Bettina risked her life for me. Without her, I never would have escaped. Never would have met Wyatt. Or Wren. Ryker. Cara.
I can’t let Simon hurt any of them.
For five years, Bettina was trapped in one of Simon’s brothels. He brought her to his compound six months before I moved to Salt Lake City. She’s endured so much and she’s not even thirty. He’ll never let her go. But maybe if I do what he says, he won’t kill her.
“Hope?” Wyatt kneels next to me. His hands shake as he runs them over my thighs. “You haven’t said a word in almost an hour. Cara brought some clothes for us to take with us.”
“Why?”
His brows furrow. “Because we’re leaving as soon as the plane’s ready. The rest of the team has go bags here.”
“I don’t need clothes, Wyatt. Simon won’t let me keep them.”
He recoils like I’ve just slapped him. “What the fuck? You are not going back to that asshole!”
Murphy tenses. Ryker makes a beeline for us from across the warehouse. Great. Two alpha men about to tell me what I can and can’t do.
“If I don’t, he’ll kill Bettina. She helped me escape. Without her, I never would have made it.” Tears brim in my eyes, and I swipe at them with one hand. I can’t seem to let go of Murphy. “At least I had a few days to remember what it’s like to be free. To be…cared for.”
“No,” Wyatt growls. “I won’t let you do this. You’re staying here.” He pushes to his feet with a groan, turns, and finds Ryker right behind him. “Hope isn’t going with us.”
