“Sir, I’m the reason they brought Brie into this.”
“Bullshit.” Chauncey held up a hand. “The blame for this is firmly on Peña and Rubio.”
Brock cleared his throat. “Do you really think this new player will take out the top of the organization?”
Ryker shrugged. “At this point, I’m praying he does. He doesn’t want a war, and that’s what he’d get if something happens to Brie.”
Brody scratched his cheek. “I don’t know if he knows who she is. Do you think any of them did the research other than perhaps seeing you two together someplace?”
Ryker nodded. “There was a car in the alley. A middle-age couple. I didn’t give that vehicle a second thought. Damn it.”
“Why would you?” The Commissioner moved to take the body armor that the Colonel handed him.
“This is the latest body armor we have. Here is the earpiece. The mic attaches to the body armor and we double-checked the battery.”
“Do you have a weapon?” Chauncey tugged the loop-and-hook tape, opening the armor.
Ryker lifted his leg and removed his off-duty weapon from his ankle holster. The small nine-millimeter would not take down a tank, but it would stop someone if he was close enough.
“That will work. We’ll figure a way to lodge it in a sling, but we’ll need a cloth one, not these straps.”
“Here.” Brody peeled off his light blue long sleeve shirt, leaving him wearing a black t-shirt. “Tie the arms together. The material is dense enough they won’t be able to see the gun.”
“He’ll suspect something.” Brock helped Ryker take off the other sling.
“Yeah, that’s the idea.” Brie's father tied a knot in the sleeve, and they worked together to get his arm back into the triangle of material. “If he is focusing on Ryker, it will give us more opportunity to get our people into position.”
“Do a radio check and then get yourself to the pier at the right time.” Chauncey stopped and leveled a stare at Ryker. “I know you love her, Son, but being a hero and dying will not do her any good. I want you both out of this alive and well. Understand?”
Ryker gulped past the lump in his throat. He nodded rather than spoke. Words right now were beyond him. People caring when the chips were down.
This was family.
His family.
Chapter 17
Brie snapped her eyes open. The thunderous sounds of many heavy footsteps moved past the room they held her in. She closed her eyes again and listened closely. There was a knock on a door down the hall. A few words and a startled yell. Gunfire popped with horrendous clarity. At least ten or fifteen shots. Shouted words echoed loudly and the sound of soles slapping down the hallway again at a faster pace terrified her.
The door to her room opened and the light flipped on, causing her to blink against the brightness. The man from before, the one who’d spoken to her, entered. He approached with a gun in his hand. She shrank back when she saw it.
“This is not for you. Not yet, anyway. I’m going to release your legs and you will walk with me. Try anything stupid and I’ll kill you.” He reached down and unclipped her cuffs from the bar and then released her ankles from it, too. “Get up.”
She rolled to her knees and groaned. The damage the asphalt had done to them speared bolts of pain through her legs. She tried to push herself up, but her legs wouldn't hold her.
“I said get up!” The man jerked her into a standing position and her legs crumpled beneath her. She scrambled to get them to obey. She moved forward when he pushed her, swaying like a drunkard, but she kept putting one foot in front of the other.
She leaned into his hold, needing it to keep her upright as blood returned to her legs. The needles of sensation tattooed pain throughout her lower body, but she kept walking. He stopped her at the door and held her as he dumped a pillow from its case. The material went over her head. “You were unconscious when he brought you here. I do not want you to be able to lead them back here.”
She trembled at the words. It sounded as if he was going to free her… He tugged at her again, and she moved, taking small baby steps until he yanked her. She tried to keep up.
“Stairs.”
Her foot scraped along the top ledge and she slid, stumbling down the steps, only kept upright by the force of his grip on her arm. Finally, they reached level ground. It had to be a massive space. Things, like their movement, sounded different, almost like it echoed.
“Get in.” She could hear a door open and felt a hand on her head push her down. She shimmied into the car and drew her feet up just as the door slammed shut behind her. She could hear the man walk around the vehicle. He talked to someone and then opened the passenger door. So, someone else was driving.
She pushed her feet to the floorboard and hit… a divider. It rattled. Like a cage. “Stay down and don’t move.” Her liberator—or captor—yelled at her. She folded her legs back up and tried to breathe through the mounting fear and almost-crippling anxiety.
The trip didn’t take long. She tried to remember the turns, but there were so many stops and starts. The driver used his blinker to turn corners and to change lanes. Very precise because, yeah, who wanted to be pulled over with a bound woman in the back seat?
Gravel. The vehicle was off the blacktop. It moved forward slowly, and then the brakes squealed slightly as they stopped. She heard the driver put the vehicle into park. The door at her feet opened, and she shuffled like an inchworm backward. That’s when the
