Armed men on their heels, they burst through the opening at the northend of the building and came face-to-face with a wall of men holding rifles.
Footsteps echoed behind them, neatly cutting off their escape.
They all stood and waited, breathing hard.
“Drop it,” said a tall, thin man with skin the color of a walnut, his hair in short cornrows.
Caitlyn set the AK gently at her feet and nudged it in the lanky man’s direction.
“How nice to see another familiarface, Christophe,” she said.
The man’s expression remained stony and his aim did not waver.
If Kurt and Caitlyn could coordinate it so that they dropped at the same time, all these men might shoot each other. But it was too risky. He wasn’t willing to get Caitlyn killed, and despite his nickname, he was no superhero who could take on eight men at once and expect to survive.
Cartwright lumberedinto view, his lips and chin bloody, nose red and swollen. He glared at Kurt, but didn’t approach him. “You want to see Rose? Then let’s go.”
So they’d guessed right. Small consolation.
“Pat them down,” the Aussie said to one of the men next to Christophe.
Before leaving the house, Kurt had considered stuffing one of Marlowe’s steak knives in his waistband as a backup, but figured withouta sheath, he’d probably just stab himself in the gut. So this lackey would find him unarmed.
They were patted down before being marched along a paved path to the rental equipment shed. Christophe and his men entered first, the bright light from inside spilling out into the darkness. Kurt and Caitlyn entered next, followed by three more men with guns, and the Hulk.
In the far corner of the high-ceilinged-but-empty wooden building, a woman with bronze skin and springy red hair floating in a cloud around her face sat in a plastic chair, arms behind her back. At the commotion, she looked up and her dark eyes widened. “Caity?”
“Rose!” Caitlyn rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her sister, murmuring words that Kurt couldn’t hear.
“Enough.” Christophe crossed the small room and grabbed Caitlyn’shair, jerking her away from the other woman so hard that she stumbled.
If his hands were free, Kurt would’ve beaten the man into a bloody mess. The last time he’d been this helpless was when he awoke in a hospital without his legs six years ago. Or maybe when Caitlyn had told him about Aaron.
Fuck.
He and Caitlyn were placed in separate corners—him to Rose’s right and Caitlyn diagonally acrossfrom her—and tied to their chairs. The men left the room, leaving behind only Christophe and another black man who was short and stout, his head bald.
“You start outside,” Christophe said. “I’ve got this.”
His teammate left, shutting the door behind him and locking it with an audibleclick.
“I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn said to her sister, ignoring the presence of their jailer. “We were trying tosave you.”
“You never should have come.” A tear tracked down her face. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“We looked for you at the party.”
Rose scowled. “A couple days after that morning you showed up at the house, I tried to run, but the guards caught me.” Her gaze dropped and her lips disappeared between her teeth. “I ended up in a clinic for a week, and then I… I stayed in Glenn’s condo untilthey brought me here.”
Stayed? She made it sound like she’d had a choice, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Kurt tried to unclench his jaw. What had these assholes done to her?
“No more talking,” their guard said, “or I will gag you.”
“Christophe.”
He scowled at Caitlyn and approached her chair. “What?”
“What are we doing here? What are we waiting for?”
