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A man was pointing a gun directly at her face.
“Dammit.” Graysen wanted to pound his fist against the desk, but took a deep breath instead.
“I haven’t found anything either.” Isa looked just as frustrated as he felt as she closed the last drawer of the filing cabinet she’d been searching.
They’d covered the entire office thoroughly trying to find the satellite phone—or any phone at this point.
“The last time I saw the satellite phone it was on his desk. The only thing I can think is that he put it in his safe.” Which Graysen had found behind a painting. But he couldn’t break into it.
“Can’t you just open the safe?” Isa asked.
He arched an eyebrow. “Just because I used to work for the CIA doesn’t mean I can break into heavily secured safes—not without the right tools, anyway.”
“So what do you think we should do now?” Isa asked, frustration clear in her voice.
Before he could respond the radio attached to his belt made a slight static sound before a faintly accented voice came over the line. “If you can hear me, I know you are still here in the building. And we have two of your friends. A pretty blonde who I think could be very entertaining to my men. According to her ID her name is Emerson. If that means anything to you, meet me in the lobby in twenty minutes. I just want the information you have. Give it to me and your friends live.”
“Oh my God, they have Emerson.” Panic laced Isa’s voice.
“Shit.” Graysen scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. This changed everything.
“He said two of our friends. I can’t imagine who else would be with her, other than maybe Harrison.”
Graysen nodded. If Emerson had been worried about Isa, she’d have contacted their boss. “The only way I can see someone getting the drop on him is if maybe they had a weapon.”
“Should we respond to them?”
“No. I don’t want them to know we’ve received their message. The man might have just been fishing, trying to see if he could bait us into responding. Four of his men are dead so they’ve got to be getting nervous.” And there was no way in hell he or Isa would survive if they went to the lobby.
“Maybe,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced. “That wasn’t Alan Persky. I’ve talked to him enough the past week to know that.”
“I agree.” He’d talked to the man too. But even if it wasn’t Persky, it didn’t mean he wasn’t working with whoever had just radioed them.
“What are we going to do? We’ve got to help her.”
“I’m going to find and save Emerson.” No way in hell she’d be in the lobby either.
She stepped around the desk, moved closer until inches separated them. “You can’t go after her and whoever’s with her by yourself. That’s suicide.”
“I’ve been up against worse odds.” And he sure as hell wasn’t leaving a vulnerable woman to fend for herself against armed men who’d threatened to make her their entertainment. There was no possible way he could do that and live with himself.
She blinked once before her lips pulled into a thin line. “Well you’re not going alone. We’ll figure something out together. And you can’t go to the freaking lobby, it’s a trap!”
He’d never admit it, but he liked her bossy tone—and the fact that she cared about his well-being. “I know it’s going to be a trap. But that doesn’t mean I can’t go look for Emerson and whoever she’s with,” he said. He’d have to be a ghost, go floor by floor until he figured out where she was being held. It would take too much damn time, but there was nothing else to do since they hadn’t found a sat phone and there was no damn Wi-Fi reachable from Hamilton’s office to get a message out. No matter what, Isa wasn’t going with him to find Emerson. It wasn’t happening.
Isa shook her head. “No. I don’t care how trained you are. You’re one person against…who knows how many. There’s got to be something else we can do.”
“The best thing for you to do is to hide out in the private stairwell. Either that or directly here in the office, but I think the stairwell is the best place. There are only two entrances to it, so you’ll know if someone is coming. And you’ll be armed.” He couldn’t go after Emerson knowing that Isa would be in even more danger. Simply couldn’t do it. And if she came with him, he’d be more worried about her than anything else. He couldn’t have his attentions divided like that and be effective.
She just gritted her teeth and let out a frustrated sound. “If you’re going to go after her, you’re going to be prepared. I know how to make some quick and not-so-pretty smoke bombs. You can at least lay down some cover. You’ll be blind going in once you discover where Emerson is, but the upside is that whoever these men are will be blind as well.”
“You know how to make smoke bombs?” He did too. It was messy but he was fairly certain there were enough of the ingredients in the building to make them. And…it was a damn good idea.
She gave a harsh laugh. “My father actually taught me how to make them. Thought it was a useful skill to know. Among other things.” There was a flash of bitterness in her eyes visible even under the muted lights from the city outside, but it faded quickly as she continued. “I think we can find enough of the supplies in Hamilton’s private kitchen area, but if not we can find them in other kitchens or janitor closets. We can create enough havoc and distraction to really screw these guys up. If anything, maybe it will set off some alarm not connected to the power.”
He nodded, liking this idea. “No matter what, it will create enough of a distraction, especially with the hallways already being darkened. But we’re only doing it if the supplies are on this floor. I’m not putting you in any more danger looking for this stuff.” If necessary, he’d do that on his own once he knew she was relatively safe.
“Fine.” She might not like it, but Isa wasn’t arguing with him, at least. Turning on her heel, she headed out of the office.
Her stiff body language made it clear she was annoyed with him.
“You’d rather I take you with me?” he asked as they reached the small kitchen. It wasn’t happening.
There wasn’t as much light in the smaller room, but there was enough streaming in from the oversized window that they could work.
Isa sighed, gave him an annoyed look. “No. I know I’ll slow you down and…I’m definitely not trained enough to take on a bunch of armed guys. I just hate feeling useless.”
Her honesty surprised him—and touched him. He liked that she was being real with him. “You’re not useless.”
She didn’t respond as he opened the freezer, looked for cold packs because they contained ammonium nitrate. There were multiple ways to make smoke bombs and he was going for the fastest. If there weren’t cold packs, he’d use another, dirtier way.
“I know a couple different ways to make these.” Isa opened a cabinet, started pulling out sugar and paper towels.
“Me too. We’ll probably have to use different methods to make as many as we can. And it’s a good idea.” A really good one. He’d simply planned to take out as many men as he could one-on-one with head or body shots, or in hand-to-hand combat, and keep looking for cell phones. Sometimes simplest was best, but using smoke bombs was unexpected and would definitely confuse his targets.
“Thanks. Never thought I’d get to use this particular knowledge.”
They worked quickly together, making two different types of crude smoke bombs that would be effective. It took longer than he’d have liked, especially knowing Emerson was at the mercy of those men. If that bastard who’d radioed them really did start hurting Emerson after twenty minutes, Graysen was going to make him pay.
He just hoped she could hold on a little longer. Because he was damn sure going to find her.
* * *
“How did you get rid of your badge?” Emerson whispered to Carlito.
ted his feet slightly. Only a couple feet separated them in the darkness. They’d been zip-tied to shelves in a supply closet by armed men a few minutes ago. A single battery-powered lantern-style light sat on one of the shelves, casting shadows over her face, her stress clear. More than anything, Carlito wanted to reach out, comfort her—and get her the hell out of here.
He’d seen some tattoos on a couple of the men he guessed were Russian, but he didn’t recognize them as gang tats. At least not local gangs.
“Sleight of hand.” It had been a risk, but Carlito had tossed his badge and ID right before they’d been shoved through one of the main doors into the building. He was still pissed at himself for letting some asshole get the drop on him. That guy had come out of nowhere, but he should have been more aware. “For now, if they ask, my name is Carlito and I’m a new hire at Red Stone Security. You don’t know me well, but asked me to come with you tonight.” He knew enough about Red Stone because of Grant that he could bullshit if he needed to. And since he and Emerson weren’t dead yet, he figured their captors might need them alive for something. Otherwise they would have just shot them once they’d gotten them into the privacy of the building. Keeping her alive and getting her the hell out of here was his only priority at the moment.
Before he could say anything else, one of the armed men opened the door and stepped inside the dim room. Carlito had overheard someone refer to the man as Dmitri. The man shut the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the two of them.
“Why did you have a gun on you?” he asked Carlito.
Carlito kept his gaze steady. They’d found his pistol in his ankle holster almost immediately. “I’m in the security business. I always have one on me.”
He turned his attention to Emerson. “Why are you here?”
Carlito answered even though the man wasn’t looking at him. He wanted to keep all of the man’s attention on him and not her. “We just stopped by to check on a friend who works here.” It was a stupid answer, but what else was he going to tell the guy? So far these guys had no idea he was a cop, and he planned to keep it that way. He needed to keep things as vague as possible.
The man’s eyes narrowed on Carlito. “Don’t lie to me or I will start cutting her.” To underscore his words, he withdrew a five-inch blade from a sheath. He held it at his side, clearly comfortable with a knife in his hand.
Carlito’s blood chilled, but before he could respond, Emerson spoke up. “We’re here because one of my coworkers called me. She was supposed to meet me and never showed up. That’s it.”
“Is this coworker named Isa?”
Emerson didn’t respond but her expression gave her away.
The man looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. “I radioed her, giving her time to meet me. I told her that if she doesn’t show up, you’re going to be entertainment for my men.” The dark look in his eyes made Carlito go still.
The threat was undeniably true. Though he wanted to yank against his bonds, to kill this man for the threat he’d just made against the woman Carlito loved, he contained his rage. For now.
The man’s hand-held radio squawked. The words were in Russian, but the tone was clear enough: there was a problem.
Without another word, Dmitri pulled out his radio and stepped out of the closet.
Emerson let out a small sound of distress, the fear on her face cutting at his insides.
“We’re going to get out of this,” Carlito whispered. He was going to do everything possible to get Emerson out of here. Or die trying. Because no one was hurting her.
Emerson jerked at her zip-tied hands. “How?”
There was no guarantee that once they got out of their bonds they would be able to escape. Not with armed men outside the door. But they had to take the chance.
He stood up straighter. “Tighten the zip ties like this.” Using his teeth, he yanked on the tail of the tie. It started to cut off his circulation, but it was necessary for what he had to do.
“Tighten it?” she whispered.
He nodded. After she’d done it, he held his hands up slightly and eased his body back, keeping his hands stretched out in front of him. “Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, like this.”
She mirrored his action.
Under other circumstances, he would have slammed the heel of his palms against his pelvic bone, in an effort to snap the zip ties free. But with the metal pole in the way they were too constrained. Still, he was going to try the same tactic he knew worked, and slam his palms against the shelf instead.
A single shout of alarm came from the hallway, making him pause. When he didn’t hear anything else, he ignored it. “Do exactly what I do.”
Putting force behind the move, he jumped up slightly and slammed his hands down against where the shelf and pole were connected. The thud was loud but the ties snapped free. His palms and wrists ached but he ignored the pain. They had to free themselves fast before Dmitri or one of his men came back.
Emerson did the same but it didn’t work.
“Keep trying,” he whispered as he began searching for something to cut her free, and for weapons. He let out a growl of frustration when he found nothing but a couple mops. It would have to do for now. And it was better than nothing.
He turned in time to find her broken ties falling to the ground. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, rubbing her wrists.
He held out a mop to her. “It isn’t much, but you can shove the end into someone’s throat or eye—anywhere that will do damage.”
She nodded, her eyes widening as she pointed behind him. Thick white smoke was billowing under the doorway.
Shit. “Stay close.” Heart racing, Carlito eased the door open and peered out into the hallway. Or tried to.
A wall of smoke greeted him but…it didn’t have the smell of a fire. It was an acrid stench, one he recognized from his PD training and the Corps. Listening, he didn’t hear shouts of alarm either, which was…odd. He’d heard one person cry out earlier, but it had been quiet since then.
Maybe it was Graysen and Isa who’d created the smoke. And the guys who’d taken over this building were obviously professional enough not to shout and act like maniacs so, okay, not odd at all. No, they’d be stealthy as they tried to find the threat—which had to be Graysen.
This was their chance to escape. Would probably be their only one.
Carlito shut the door and scanned the shelves again, using the lantern to search. He reached for a box of cleaning supplies at the same time Emerson did. They both pulled out thin surgical-style masks the cleaning staff must use, and put them on.
“Hold on to the back of my pants. We’ll use the darkness and smoke as cover. I’m going to stay close to the wall. If we’re stopped, keep going and get somewhere safe. Do not stop for me.” He kept his voice whisper quiet, but he knew she heard him.
She nodded but the look in her eyes said she wouldn’t leave him.
No time to argue. Turning, he eased the door open again.
The dark-haired man with visible tattoos on his neck who’d originally pulled the gun on them stood there, clearly about to open the door. Surprise flashed over his face.
Carlito struck out, slamming his fist into the guy’s throat. The Russian’s whole body jerked back, his eyes widening. Before the man could react, Carlito punched him again, breaking his trachea. Then he grabbed him by the shoulders and head-butted him in the face.
As the guy crumpled under the assault, Carlito tugged him back into supply room, tossed him to the ground and stripped him of his hand-held radio and two weapons: a Glock—with a suppressor—and a knife. The guy wasn’t dead, but he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon, and now Carlito had something to even the odds.
Emerson didn’t make a sound, just stepped over the guy’s body as Carlito opened the door again. It was difficult to see through the smoke. Only muted light from office window
s created a sliver of illumination.
Staying close to the wall, he began creeping eastward, weapon at the ready. When they’d been brought to the third floor he’d paid attention to the nearest exits, and right now he and Emerson were about three doors down from the nearest stairwell. It was time to get the hell out of here and find somewhere to hole up.
He didn’t think exiting through the lobby was an option and he didn’t know this building well enough to make any tactical decisions. So his first mission was to get Emerson to safety. They could hunker down in an office far away from here. From there, they’d figure out what to do next.
“What the hell is going on?” Alan demanded of one of the only two men currently in the lobby. Dmitri had taken the blonde woman and her security guy up to the third floor to question them a few minutes ago.
Dmitri had wanted to find out if anyone else knew why they’d come here—but something had happened. He’d heard Dmitri speaking rapid-fire Russian over the radio to one of the men in the lobby, and now Dmitri wasn’t answering his calls.
“We’re not sure.” The man’s voice was clipped. “There’s some sort of smoke on multiple floors, but it’s not a fire. Likely smoke bombs.”
Smoke bombs? Shit, shit, shit.
This was getting way too out of hand. Hell, it had gotten out of hand hours ago. Too many people were dead and now there was no controlling the fallout. The man with Isa, Graysen whoever, had to be behind this. Unless the dark-haired bitch was doing it. He had a hard time imagining the delicate-looking woman killing Yuri’s men and setting off smoke bombs, however.
But what the hell did he know? Considering who her father was, per Yuri’s file, maybe she had lethal skills and she was the one behind all this havoc.
This was supposed to have been a way for him to cash out, start over somewhere new without anything hanging over his head. No ex-wife or alimony and no debt.
He was still going to split the country with Katya. But instead of coming in tomorrow then waiting it out a couple weeks like everything was normal, he was going to leave tonight. He’d tried calling his fiancée a couple times but she hadn’t responded. That was making him more antsy as well. She always answered his calls or at least called him back in ten minutes.