Forever.
But forever was never going to come their way if he didn’t find her before it was too late.
Jagger pulled the keys from his pocket and began marching toward the apartment’s front door.
“Hold up,” Brody’s deep voice rumbled behind him. “Where the hell are you going, now?”
“Sinclair’s apartment.” He stopped just shy of stepping outside. If he is involved in whatever this is, he’ll know where we can find Talia.”
No one hesitated or wasted time asking a single question. Jagger’s teammates, Ryker, and the members of Echo Team all immediately followed his lead.
Sinclair will tell me the truth about what he knows. One way or another.
The circumstances in which the man chose to do so would solely be up to him. Either way, easy or painfully hard, Jagger wasn’t leaving the prick’s shitty place until he had some answers.
Twenty minutes later,Jagger was pounding his fist against Sinclair’s door a second time.
“He’s probably sleeping,” Gwen whispered twenty minutes later.
Standing a few inches from Gwen, Rocky rumbled a low, “We’re sure he’s home?”
Another knock.
“He’s here.” Liam held up his tablet for the others to see. “That red dot is his cell, which is pinging from within a twenty-foot radius. And according to the Virginia DMV’s database”—he pointed to a vehicle parked a few spots down—“that piece of shit right there is his car.”
All heads turned as they followed the tech analyst’s line of sight through the dimly lit lot. Jagger lifted his hand, using more force than the times before to knock yet again.
“Fuck this.” Jagger growled when his attempts continued to go unanswered. He lifted his right foot and slammed the sole of his boot against the door just above the metal knob.
Splinters of wood exploded as the door was forced open by the blow. He and the others easily ducked their heads to avoid being struck in the face before making their way inside.
The smell was the first thing Jagger noticed as he stepped into Sinclair’s apartment. What came next was something none of them could have anticipated. He stopped cold in his tracks, his fist raised to halt the others.
Because Keith Sinclair was dead.
“Holy shit.” Cade wrinkled his nose with a grimace. “Is that…blood I’m smelling?”
A few of the others shared similar sentiments as Emmett walked over to a light switch mounted on one of the walls. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand, presumably to avoid leaving prints, before flipping it up and turning on the lights.
More details appeared in the illuminated space that had been nearly impossible to make out in the dark. Numerous, jagged stab wounds had been made all along the front of Keith’s torso. What used to be a white t-shirt was now soaked in dark, red blood.
“I’ll clear the other rooms,” Blake offered as he pulled the holstered pistol from his waist.
“I’ll go with you.” Brody began to follow, also armed and ready to defend.
Jagger and the others kept their holstered, staying put and surveying the room.
A quick scan of the immediate area revealed obvious signs of a struggle. An overturned lamp. Random pieces of mail splayed across the floor. Two broken glasses on the floor that appeared to have once contained something the color of tea.
But what caught Jagger’s attention the most was the four-by-six photo that had been left on the center of the dead man’s chest.
Moving in closer, he bent down, pinching the very edge of the glossy paper’s corner as he picked it up for a closer look. His heart thumped hard with a renewed dose of fear as he stared at Talia’s smiling face.
Like the picture left in her hotel room, this one showed her and her Julian Miller. It also showed Sinclair, though he was an unsmiling figure standing in the background.
Jagger’s gaze became lasered on the woman who’d been laughing when the photograph had been taken. He could almost hear her, even now, and his soul ached with the fear he’d never hear it again.
“We’re going to find her, brother.” Christian’s hand landed on Jagger’s shoulder.
