The rattle and clank of metal should have been enough to tell Quinn what Travis had done, but she needed to see it. Needed proof that her husband was as sadistic of a bastard as she remembered. Twisting around so her one good eye could focus in on her right ankle, Quinn got her proof. There, around her swollen, purple-tinged skin was one end of Travis’ handcuffs. The other end locked tight around the heavy metal frame of her antique bed.
There was no point in screaming. The nearest neighbors were nowhere near close enough to hear. Quinn wasn’t one to give up, but she couldn’t come up
with the strength to scream even if anyone actually could hear.
Over two years with Travis and she plotted her escape every single day, no matter what he did to her or how many dark days bled together. But right now, in this moment, Quinn didn’t have any fight left in her. He won. Game over.
When Travis came back he would kill her, of that she had no doubt. Maybe not today or even tomorrow, Travis always did like to draw out his punishments. But she knew… there was no way she would ever make it another two years. Quinn would find a way to push him so he would finish this long before then. Soon it would all be over. She’d rather die than spend her life with her husband.
Sinking into the soft pillows, her tender, bruised flesh throbbing, Quinn cried.
A few hours after midnight on Monday morning, sixteen hours since Quinn went missing, Mack called a meeting in the conference room. The tired soldiers took their seats, a somber look on each man’s face.
“Alright, as you know, we’ve determined that Travis Hardy kidnapped Quinn from the parking garage of an Atlanta lawyer’s office. Tucker tracked the car to north of the city.” Mack stopped and frowned, “Where’s Rick?”
“I’m here.” The door opened, revealing a shockingly scruffy-looking Rick Brennan. He took a seat, placing a thick stack of papers in front of him.
“What’s that?” Mack pointed at the pile.
Rick rubbed at his eyes. After staring at computer screens and small print documents for hours on end, his eyes were on fire, burning from being open too long.
“Some stuff I got from Quinn’s apartment. It may not be relevant, but I grabbed what looked important so we could go through it.”
Mack paused, staring at Rick for a brief moment before continuing. He shrugged off the feeling that Mack was seeing right through him. Mack knew that Quinn was more than a friend and coworker to Rick. Hell, he was pretty sure that everyone here knew that just by the way he was acting. It wasn’t as if he told anyone directly, except Clint and Mara, and they only knew because of Mara’s close friendship with Quinn. Everyone else figured it out on their own. They were highly trained in intelligence gathering after all. Reading people was a very big part of that skill.
“Rick, we’ll go through the paperwork after the meeting.” Mack turned his attention to their computer whiz. “Tucker, give me the latest location for Travis Hardy’s rental car.”
The man sat up a little straighter in his seat, ruffling his hand through his shaggy brown hair. “I found visual conformation of them on GA400 North at mile marker 30.8, continuing on the freeway.” Tucker looked around the room, noting that the other mercenaries perked up at this information. “That means he’s past Highway 20, up by Lake Lanier. I can’t confirm how far north he went as there aren’t anymore DOT cameras that far out. I’m currently searching private business cameras off of each subsequent exit. The computers are running an algorithm I created as we speak.”
Mack stared at Tucker, scratching his thick fingers over the grey stubble that covered his chin. Rick had known Mack a long time. The man was obviously working something out in his head. When he finally came to his conclusion, he floored them.
“Don’t bother. I think I know where they are.”
Every head in the room spun around to face Mack.
Rick bolted up out of his chair, knocking it over in his haste. “What? Where is she?”
Mack’s face softened for a beat, then he scowled at Rick, knowing exactly what Rick was thinking of doing. “We will come up with a plan, together, Ricochet. You will not rush out of here by yourself all half-cocked and sleep deprived. Do you hear me?”
The younger man ground his teeth together. “But—”
“No. I am ordering you to stand down until we have a plan in place. No one here is to go in alone. That is an order. Does everyone understand?” Mack’s stare was hard, his eyes shards of flint. C.O. McEvoy was in charge, and after years in the various branches of the military, every man in the room was trained to follow his every order.
“Yes sir.” A practiced chorus of shouts went out.
“Rick?” Mack raised an eyebrow at the scowling man who was still standing rigid, his fists clenched at his sides.
Rick couldn’t believe Mack was tying his hands like this. His need to get to Quinn had him halfway out the door already. But his brain knew that it would be dangerous to go in blind, so reluctantly, he acquiesced. “Yes sir.”
“Good. Tucker, get me a map of Dawsonville, specifically the northeast side of the lake and get it up on the big screen. Rick, is there any paperwork in there regarding the sale of Quinn’s house?”
Rick flipped through the stack, handing Mack a document from Quinn’s lawyer about a real estate agent.
Tucker leapt from his seat to pull up the map. Less than two minutes later, the image was on the giant television screen mounted on the wall of the conference room.
Rick was just about ready to jump out of his skin. The urge to scream in frustration was pushing at his chest, itching to burst out like that creature in that movie, Alien.
Mack pushed a button on the phone to speak to Tucker in Mission Control. “Zoom in on the upper third of the map.” The roads and buildings grew larger. “Now on the lower right quadrant.” The screen complied with each directive until Mack pointed at the only house left in the frame. “There, that’s Quinn’s father’s house. Where she grew up. It matches the address on this document.” Mack made eye contact with each one of his agents. “I’ve been to that house before. It’s been a few years, but I remember it well. Now, let’s figure out how we’re going to get this shitbag.”