Dirty Dealers

Pacing the war room, I watch as Freddie checks satellite clip after satellite clip. Rowan is in the adjacent room on the phone with border patrol, giving them the descriptions of all the vehicles. God knows where Reggie is, but I can only hope his spy network is proving useful.

“What are you doing?” I demand, my agitation getting the best of me. I can’t stop seeing Kass wounded and bleeding.

“I went back through the satellite feed and captured the image of the square vehicle that took Ava and Kass, and now I’m using a macro to search it through the timeline for where it went after it left the mill.”

“You’re able to do that?” I confess, I’m impressed by this answer.

“It’s military technology developed for missile tracking. Classified. Very new.” He makes several clicks. “So far I don’t have a match, but I’m hoping…

“I’ve got something!” Freddie shouts.

“What is it?” I’m leaning over his chair, staring into the laptop.

Rowan quickly joins us, and our collective tension is palpable. “Tell me you’ve found her,” the king demands.

The desperation in his voice compounds the anxiety I’m already feeling.

“Not yet,” Freddie says, and our shoulders drop.

Rowan’s dark head falls forward, but I take a fortifying breath. “What have you found?” I ask.

“I’ve got a trace on the vehicle. It’s here.” He points to a dot on the black screen. “They returned to Monagasco. I get as far as the Cinq Mondes, and they disappear.”

“It’s right on the water.” I go back through my mind to all the possible hiding places along that stretch of road.

“Logan!” Freddie’s out of his seat, racing for the door.

Rowan and I exchange confused glances before I take off after my partner. I’m just about to go through the door when he’s back, coat in hand, and holding a rolled sheet of paper.

Rowan meets him at the door. “What do you have?”

“When we were searching for him last time, when we found Kass?” I’m with him, taking the paper as he puts on his jacket.

I scan the list of abandoned cargo holds dotted around the city. “Is something in that area?”

“Two large storage facilities are there.”

“Let’s go.” I jerk my leather jacket off the back of the chair, list in hand.

He stops at the king. “Your majesty, It’s my fault she was taken. I promise, I’ll get Her Royal Highness back or die trying.”

“Give me the list.”

Reluctantly, I hand it to Rowan, grinding my teeth at the time passing. He quickly takes a picture with his phone and gives it back. “Go! Text me your first location. I’ll send a team of men to the next place.”

It’s a good call. “Yes, sir,” I say, headed for the door, Freddie on my heels.

Execution

Kass

The air is tight as a tripwire, and the men holding us pace in and out on a regular basis. Dev keeps saying it’s dangerous to keep us here.

“This isn’t Uranu,” he says, whatever that means. “Anyone could find them, take a picture… The fucking paparazzi are all over the place here.”

“Shut up,” is Blix’s standing response. He doesn’t seem concerned, but Blix is a master of hiding his thoughts.

Still, I’ve been with these guys long enough to know if more time keeps passing, things will get ugly. I’ve never known Dev to be nervous. His hands are the size of my face, and he typically communicates in grunts.