The threat—empty though he was sure it was—was all it took to snap the control he’d been clinging to, and Blade was off again.
Muttered curses sounded from behind him, but he heard feet pounding the path he had taken. As he ran, he kept listening, not letting fear make him completely useless, but as he approached the street where the produce store the cop had taken her to was located, he almost tripped over his feet when the comms unit suddenly went quiet.
What the hell?
There were too many competing sounds from the others, the vehicles on the street, the people in the park, those in the stores, and wandering down the sidewalk, for him to be able to zero in on Whitney and the man with her. At least quickly enough to figure out what was going on.
“Did everyone else lose them?” he demanded, not slowing his pace as he dodged around two women and several toddlers. Thankfully, they’d dressed to look like they blended in at the park, wearing sweatpants, hoodies, and sneakers. Not only did they look like they were all just out for a run, but the hoodies provided some cover for their faces.
“Yeah, they’re gone,” Voodoo replied.
“Probably jammed the signal,” Steel added.
“Right up ahead,” Lion said, pointing at the store about midway down the street.
“Wouldn't have gone in the front door,” Thunder said, “and there’s an alley beside it, I say that’s where we go.”
Moving as a solid unit, they darted across the street between cars, not bothering to use the crossing and wait for the lights, and headed for the alley. There was a door toward the far end of it, and when Blade tried the lock on it, it swung open.
Not even two steps inside the back room of the store was the body. Deacon Hayes, dirty cop, lying dead in a pool of his own blood. A single bullet to the forehead was the obvious cause of death.
Besides that, the room was empty.
No Whitney. No shooter. Nothing.
Not even the sound of her voice in the comms unit.
“I can't get a read on the tracking devices,” Lion announced, and it took Blade everything he had not to break down right then and there.
Whitney was gone, and he had no way to get her back.
January 15th
7:12 P.M.
A fiery ball of nausea burning up her esophagus ripped Whitney from unconsciousness.
Managing to turn her head before a rush of vomit came spewing out, she groaned as she sank back down as soon as she was done throwing up.
She felt like she’d been run over by a truck.
Since she knew she hadn't, she had to attribute the feeling to the drugs that Terry Richards had given her. The last part of what happened in the back room of the produce store was a littlebit hazy, but she remembered the cop being shot, remembered trying her best to get away from the highly trained head of Dr. Gardner’s security.
It didn’t make a difference, though.
One single self-defense lesson that had ended before it even really got started when she’d kissed Blade wasn't enough to equip her to put anything into practice in a real-life experience. Especially when she was scared out of her mind.
Stupid survival instincts picking freeze instead of fight or even flight.
Not that she would have been able to flee from this situation, and realistically speaking, even if she wasn't fighting against her body’s natural inclination to freeze in trauma situations, there was no way she was winning against a man like Terry Richards in a fight.
While nowhere near as big as Blake and the other members of Delta Team, he was way bigger than she was, and he actually knew how to fight and wasn't trying to convince his body not to freeze up on him the same way she had to.
Still, wasting time thinking about what had happened and what she could have done differently wasn't productive right now. Later. If she got back home, she’d make sure she and Blade worked on self-defense skills until her muscles no longer locked up on her. With enough practice, she could rewrite her body’s instincts.
“No, not if, when. You have to think when or you're not going to make it until the guys find you,” she rebuked herself.
She was wearing several trackers in case one or more of them were discovered, and she’d had the comms unit in. The guys would have heard the gunshot and come right away, because Blade would have been terrified she’d been the one who was shot. Even hearing her speak and knowing she was okay would have made him want to be closer.
