I stabbed my finger into the button for the hydraulic platform, feeling myself dropping down toward the water.
It couldn’t have taken more than twenty or thirty seconds. It felt like a fucking lifetime. Because I didn’t even hear the engine of the guy’s escape boat. Could he be on shore already? Loading Noa into a car? On his way to a second location?
My stomach seized just as, finally, the platform stopped moving.
The tender was strapped down hard, and it was frustrating work to free the front and back free, my hands feeling fat, slow, useless.
Eventually, they released and I climbed onto the small boat, so small I worried my weight might flip it. But it stayed steady as I found the ignition and stabbed my finger into it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I put my hand on the throttle, easing it forward because the last thing I needed was to go too fast and end up back in the water, this time without a fucking escape boat.
I put one hand on the wheel as I leaned off the throttle, turning the boat toward the lights on the shore.
But as soon as I turned, I fucking gunned it.
There was no time to be careful, to let myself learn. I had to get to her as quickly as possible. Especially if she was incapable of fighting for herself.
The drugs wouldn’t last forever, I reminded myself. At some point, she would be in her right mind again. And I knew my girl. She would fight tooth and nail to get free. Hell, she probably knew some super-secret trick to getting out of flex cuffs that I knew nothing about.
I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her rage when she realized she’d been drugged, cuffed, and carted off like a sack of flour.
Actually, I kind of hoped I was there for that moment. I’d hold the fucker’s arms while she went apeshit on him. Then I’d ask for the pleasure of ending the bastard myself.
With those thoughts in my head, the panic eased back as the tender cut through the dark water, taking me closer and closer to the shore with each passing moment.
Until, finally, the boat was shooting up onto the sand, spitting it everywhere as I laid off the throttle and cut the engine.
I scanned the beach, seeing the other abandoned motorboat sitting there.
I wanted to stop, to look at it for clues, to make sure there was no blood. But there was no time.
I tore up the beach, heart pounding, lungs burning, gut churning.
I still had a sliver of hope in my heart as I made my way to the parking lot.
There were several parked cars. But there wasn’t anyone in sight. And definitely no tall asshole tucking a bound woman into his trunk.
“Goddamnit!” I screamed.
My phone rang again in my pocket, and I reached for it blindly.
“He got away with her. I got to shore. But he’s gone. He took her.”
“Fuck. Okay.” It was Huck’s voice in my ear. “I know it’s pointless to tell you not to panic, but you gotta keep your wits about you. Your brother and Velle are on their way to you. Right now. And probably Zayn.”
“My friend.”
“He’s here. I gotta go.”
Turning, I saw Zayn. He was still in a fucking suit in the middle of the night. Did he sleep in them?
Beside him stood the silent, assessing Daniyal. But as soon as he saw me, the man nodded, then made his way to the beach.
“Don’t worry about him, my friend. He knows what he’s doing. Come with me,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “And tell me what happened. What you saw.”
“We were sleeping and something woke me up, but I couldn’t figure out what. So I went to check it out while Noa stayed in the room.”
“You were infiltrated.”
