Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Bebe reaches over and flips the power to the speakers, cutting off the rest of the glorious arrest. She leans toward her computer screen, taps a few more keys, and victoriously says, “The recipient of that call is Richard Munford.”
Everyone turns to President Alexander to see if he recognizes the name. He nods, providing a brief summary. “Richard Munford, CEO of Munford Aviation and Electronics. Multibillionaire and one of the leading campaign funders for my opponent in the election.”
Bebe types again before saying, “It appears he lives on an estate outside of Fredericksburg, but he also has a home in the Keys.”
“Shit,” Kynan growls. “Where would he have taken her?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut in frustration. “Bebe… pull up the houses he owns.”
In just mere seconds, she has them up on the screen, showing us the square footage and geography.
“The Keys’ house is in a gated neighborhood. The Virginia estate is isolated on twenty acres and much larger, complete with a few exterior buildings. If I were going to torture someone, I’d put my money there.”
I grimace over her casual use of the word torture, but she’s just speaking plain. We all know what’s more than likely happening to Barrett even as we speak.
“Virginia is our play then,” I announce.
“We only have one shot at this, Cruce,” Kynan points out. “The Keys are closer to where she was kidnapped from.”
“I know,” I murmur, praying I’m fucking right. But I’m going with a gut instinct I’ve always trusted. It hasn’t let me down yet. “But we need to head to his Virginia estate.”
“Let’s go then,” Kynan says, and we all grab our gear bags from where we’d stowed them around the room. The president has graciously loaned us Marine One, his helicopter, and transport will be quick.
Bebe goes back to her computer. “I’ll figure out the best place for you to land nearby, then send the coordinates.”
Of course she would. This is what we’d planned once Barrett’s kidnapper was identified. She’d direct us to the location, we’d send in a quick reconnaissance, and then we’d storm.
Another hand comes to my shoulder as I make my way to the door. It’s Kynan, and he has an expression on his face that is about as far from businesslike as possible. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, shoulder feels fine. No worries.”
“Not talking about your shoulder. I’m talking about your state of mind,” he replies with a knowing look.
Fuck… he does know how I feel about Barrett.
Before I can respond, he continues. “Remember when I went in and rescued Joslyn?”
I nod, because of course I do. I was there with him. Saw how he wanted to kill the stalker that had taken Joslyn with his bare hands.
“All I’m saying is I’ve been there,” he replies quietly. “I know how fucking scared you are right now, and it’s okay. But you have your brothers on your six. We’re not going to let you fail. We’re going to help you walk Barrett right out of there safe and sound. I promise.”
The words are more appreciated than he’ll ever know. Because for the first time since Barrett was kidnapped, I feel a glimmer of hope that it will all be okay.
CHAPTER 23
Barrett
I can barely hear my own screams because my throat is raw and shredded. Still, I’m screaming once again as he presses the cattle prod into my ribs. He never holds it there long—a few seconds at most—but it’s enough to send bolts of horrendous pain through me. I can’t help but shriek against it. Even when my vocal chords can barely make sound anymore, they still react from the pain.
“Ouch,” Paul says with exaggerated empathy. “I know that one really hurt.”
I’m panting through the agony, tears streaming down my face. My shoulders are cramping horribly because I’m hanging from the hook and my legs have given way. I’ve taken several jolts to my thighs. While they ache from the aftereffects, they are rubbery and stopped supporting my weight long ago. Every other spot on my body is throbbing from where he poked me with that damn electric prod.
“Come on, Dr. Alexander,” Paul cajoles, putting his lips near my ear. “Just give it up and all this will stop.”
I suck in a few deep breaths, wanting with all my being to just spill my guts. Instead, I say, “Oh, Paul… after all we’ve been through together, you can call me Barrett.”
When he chuckles, I wonder if the fact I’ve amused him will give me any respite.
It doesn’t come from Paul, though, but rather from the door creaking open behind me. I’ve spun around so many times on this damn hook I’ve gotten a good 360-degree view of this room. I push to my tiptoes, my feet barking in protest, and I swing myself toward the door.