“Fuck,” he seethed, knowing he had no choice but to carry out the plan Doc would suggest.
“There’s no point in trying to track them now,” Doc said when Razor called back.
He knew that. In fact he knew every fucking thing his teammate was about to say.
Razor stalked onto the plane, not bothering to make eye contact with Onyx or Alegria. He heard voices and knew Monk was briefing them, but he didn’t give a shit.
Walking past the two seats where he and Ava last sat almost brought him to his knees. Holding the seat backs for support, he made his way to the very back of the plane where there were two privacy rooms. He entered the one on the left, slammed the door closed behind him, and threw himself on the bed.
He’d never been a praying man, but he’d sure as hell pray now. He had a lot to ask for.
First, that the bastards who took Ava, didn’t hurt her—or worse.
Next, that Gunner was working out where the Armenians had moved the girls, so when this plane landed, Razor could meet up with them and get into position, waiting for Ava’s captors to arrive.
Last, he prayed that Makar Petrov had gone underground and had no idea where either of his daughters was. If he did, then they’d not only be dealing with the Armenians, they’d also have to keep Petrov from getting his hands on Ava.
Would he kill her? God knew. For now, the only thing keeping him from going completely mad was his belief that the Armenians wanted Petrov bad enough that they’d keep his daughter alive, at least until they found out what she had on her father. When that happened, she, her sister, and their two friends, would, without a doubt, be eliminated.
He hated leaving Oregon not knowing for certain if her captors would bring Ava to Washington, but his gut, along with Doc’s, Gunner’s, and even Monk’s, was telling him that was what they’d do. He had to trust it.
His phone pinged with a call from Doc.
“Yeah?”
“I want you to know that I’ve asked Shiver to stay put in Eugene for the time being. We’ve identified the vehicle Ava was in via security footage along the highway. We’ve put advance-tracking into place, but so far this morning, we haven’t picked up anything.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“I understand how difficult this is for you, Razor. Believe me.”
Several months ago, Doc’s wife, Merrigan, had been abducted by a known Russian assassin, Sergei Orlov. Rescuing her had been a mission the entire team, the CIA, plus MI6 operatives had undertaken. There were few who could be as empathetic to what Razor was feeling as Doc could be.
“I appreciate it, and as hard as it is for me to leave, my gut is telling me to go just as much as you are.”
“We have everyone on this except Merrigan and me. While she cannot get involved, I can. Say the word and I will.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. For now, all I ask is that you try your damnedest to locate the Armenians and Petrov.”
“Roger that.”
—:—
Ava’s head was throbbing. Just opening her eyes seemed like it would be far too painful. She groaned and tried to move but she couldn’t; her hands and legs were bound.
When she did pry her eyes open, she saw they’d put her prostrate on the back seat of the SUV, and it was dark outside.
“Well, well. The princess has decided to wake up,” said a man in the same accent as her kidnapper.
She closed her eyes. They probably expected her to struggle, but she wouldn’t. No matter what they told her to do, she would, until she knew her sister and friends were safe.
—:—
We’re on the ground, Razor texted Gunner when the plane was taxiing in.
Within seconds he received GPS coordinates in response.
The adrenaline began pumping through his body like it did whenever he prepped for a mission, only this time it wasn’t just any mission. Its success or failure would have far-reaching ramifications for his own future. There were few ops that didn’t involve risking his own life, but this one risked Ava’s, her sister’s, and the lives of two of their best friends. There’d be no chances taken that weren’t well thought-out and planned.