Fear was driving his rage, breaking his control. Cassidy never should have been there. He’d told her and Mercer the plan was crap. “Why? Why isn’t it working?”
Sydney licked her lips. Her gaze darted over his shoulder. To Mercer? “I don’t know.”
* * *
CASSIDY SCREAMED WHEN the knife plunged into the curve of her shoulder. A man’s rough hands held her down, forcing her against the side of the van.
The van. The big, black van that had been waiting for her after the fire had erupted, separating her from Cale.
Cale!
“Let’s see them find you now,” the man muttered.
They’d taken out her tracking device. They’d known exactly where the device was located. How?
“We know your secrets, Cassidy Sherridan,” the man told her as he ran the bloody tip of his blade over her cheek. “And soon we’ll know your father’s secrets, too.”
This wasn’t about the Executioner. We were wrong. Genevieve had been taken...Cassidy had been taken—because of Mercer. Not because of the killer in Rio.
The van bumped and jostled, and Cassidy remembered another night. Another time.
It had been a van back then, too. A big white van. A delivery van. It had been broken down in the middle of the road. Her mother had stopped to see if she could help the driver.
Then the men with guns had jumped from that van.
Her mother had screamed for Cassidy to stay in the car.
The car hadn’t been any protection.
“What will the big man do in order to get you back?”
Her mother had fought. She’d been so desperate to protect Cassidy.
She’d fought and she’d died.
“Where’s Genevieve?” Because she’d heard her friend’s screams. They had pulled her away from Cale. Genevieve had been there in that park.
“She didn’t survive the little rendezvous with you.” Mocking laughter from him. From the man that she still couldn’t see. “But don’t worry, your Genny did her job just fine. She brought us you.”
Genevieve was dead? It felt as if he’d just shoved that bloody knife ri
ght in her chest.
No, Genevieve should have been saved. It had been a rescue mission.
The van bumped again. Her blood soaked her shirt. Her shoulder throbbed. Burned.
“You’ll tell us everything,” the man ordered, his voice low and sinister. “Everything you know about your father...and your lover. We know Cale Lane is EOD. You’ll tell us about him, about them both.”
And she’d still die.
Her mother had fought.
I am my mother’s daughter.
They should have checked her for weapons. They’d made the same mistake that Cale had made before. Story of her life—always being underestimated.
Their foolish mistake. She hadn’t walked into that park unarmed.