Grab (13 page)

So she gave in to the fear and let her imagination protect her from what was happening. Heart splicing from the reality of her betrayal, Mia reminded herself she and Jordan hadn’t made any commitments to each other. But the act hurt nonetheless, and it hurt worse because she didn’t fight. She gave in and pretended.

And then she sobbed. When Mike had finished and laid a soft kiss on her forehead before rolling off the bed and going to the bathroom, Mia sobbed like the baby she was. As the fat tears ran down her cheeks, Mia cried for the missed opportunity of something special. Because as surely as two hours between the sheets with Jordan would have ruined her for men, surely this fifteen minutes with Mike had ruined her, too. As a person.

She would never get salvation now.

Ryan let out a triumphant roar as he rushed the lead punk leaning on his truck while Jordan took on the guy next to him, who’d pulled a two-by-four from behind his back with a snarl. He needed an outlet for the frustration and helplessness he was feeling, and these punks were picking on the wrong men.

Punching him in the face with his good hand and twisting his arm around behind him in one move, Jordan disarmed the boy with a flick of his wrist and now the two-by-four was his. He swung around and smashed it into the mid-section of the second punk coming up on him and then twirled it in his good hand, pointing it at the other two who’d zeroed in on him before raising it over his shoulder like a baseball bat and tossing them a come-hither smirk.

Ryan was faring okay with his punk, having broken his nose and moved on to the next one. With very little sweat, all six guys were either running away or watching them warily, arms raised in gestures of innocence.

“Like I said, thanks for keeping my truck safe, guys,” Ryan tossed over his shoulder as he got in and unlocked the door for Jordan.

Ryan called in to work while Jordan stared out the window, trying to think of a plan. The problem was, nothing was coming to him. A rare sense of self-doubt hit him. This was different from his past assignments in the Marines; now he had a personal stake, he was frozen. Without a location for Mia, Jordan was totally lost. Never mind that he’d been a pro at finding people when he was at war. This was different. This was Mia. His targets had always been faceless. Never knowing the way their faces lit up when they smiled, the way they smelled fresh out of the shower, or what they slept in at night made it easier. He’d been so cocky about his skills before, but now he was failing miserably.

He was going to lose her, and he’d never had her. He’d never felt so defeated in his life.

“Evan gave us an address for the guy Evelyn went on a date with. Name’s Joey Royal,” Ryan offered after he hung up the phone. “Evan says you’ll get yours when you least expect it. He seems to be cool. He’s going to look into Evelyn Torres and figure out who those guys are in the picture.” Ryan snapped a photo of the picture on his phone and punched in some numbers to send it over to Evan. Jordan felt a welling of pride in his brother. Dude was more capable than he’d realized. And he’d always known Evan was a fucking wizard with a computer.

“Let’s go, then.” Jordan didn’t want to think about whatever retribution his brother had planned for siccing their mother on Paige about the pregnancy thing. Now he had a direction, and hopefully, more information—something to lead him in the right direction to find Mia.

Joey Royal, Evelyn’s Tinder date, lived in an up and coming neighborhood in the part of Austin that had lots of new and some established tech companies. It was full of what he thought of as McMansions—houses that were fancy enough but made to look just like every other fancy house in the neighborhood.

Jordan let Ryan take the lead as he followed the man up the walk to the house. He was afraid his nerves would betray him and he’d say or do something stupid, something that could get Mia hurt. It was entirely possible when Joey opened the door, he would be a blond Mikey who had been hanging out at the diner the night Mia’s tires were slashed, and he’d have to kill the man.

But when the door opened to a gangly man dressed in khaki shorts and a polo and dark, wiry hair which spoke of a mixed heritage, Jordan exhaled a breath of relief. Even though that meant he was still a step away from Mia, at least blood wouldn’t be shed right this second.

“Mr. Royal? Can we ask you a few questions about Evelyn Torres?” Jordan and Ryan flashed their badges at him, and he opened the door wider to let them in.

“Evelyn Torres?”

“You had a date with her off Tinder last Valentine’s Day? That was the last time she was seen, and we’re just trying to determine what happened to her,” Ryan said smoothly.

Joey Royal went white and sat in the first available chair. “Really? I had no idea. I thought she just hated me.”

Jordan asked the follow up. “So you remember her?”

“Yeah, she was a knockout. I thought she got one of her friends to call and get her out of the date because she never answered any of my texts after that night.”

“Can you tell us about it?” Jordan prodded.

“Sure. Um, do y’all want some water or something?”

“No, thanks.”

“Well, I took her out to dinner and was planning on a nightclub afterward, but she got a call during dinner.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Her brother had some sort of emergency, I think, but she didn’t give me a name. She just said her brother had something happen and she needed to go.” His anguish was apparent. “She was really nice. I tried to ask her out again, but she never answered or returned my texts, so I just assumed it was a ruse.” He shrugged. “It happens.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

He shook his head, and Jordan and Ryan rose to leave.

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Royal.”

Back at the office, Jordan was surprised to find everyone in the reception area, discussing Mia’s case. He’d assumed they all had their own cases to work. Gratitude welled up in him when he realized Mia’s life was important to them, as well.

Ryan pulled up a chair, sitting in it backward. “What’s doin’?”

“Evelyn’s mother married Dwayne Bishop when Evelyn was fourteen. Michael Bishop was one of two sons. He and Evelyn appear to have been close friends after the marriage, and we’re thinking maybe he wanted more from the relationship.” Miriam’s voice was careful as she munched on a saltine cracker.

Jordan scoffed. “You don’t say. If that’s who this is, which it sounds like, he had some sort of sick obsession with her.”

Quinten spoke from the corner. “It looks to me like he was obsessed with her, and so he kidnapped her. I bet that went south, and Evelyn may be dead. When that happened, Mikey snapped and started taking strangers who looked like her. You need to be careful with this one. His sense of reality has snapped. He may be thinking Misty and Mia
are
Evelyn.”

Jordan felt sick. He refused to believe Mia was dead, although it wasn’t looking good for her. “But there aren’t any bodies, so he may be keeping them all alive somewhere?” He couldn’t stop the hopeful note to his voice, even though he knew the odds were slim that Evelyn and Misty were alive. But Michael Bishop hadn’t had Mia long, so she very well could be.

“Not any that have been found,” Simon agreed. “But he may have them at his home, wherever that is.”

“I think I have that.” Evan was buried in his laptop in the corner, fingers tapping away on keys. “Good old Facebook. He’s all over it.” Another click, and Evan groaned. “He’s got himself in a relationship with Evelyn.” Scribbling something down on a piece of paper, he shoved it at Jordan. “Here’s an address.”

Jordan reached for the paper, and with it a semblance of control slipped back into him. For the first time since Mia had been grabbed, he felt like he was on the right track, not just stumbling around blindly following breadcrumbs.

A strange calm flowed into him. The guys at Pierce Securities were following through for him. That was a good thing. Calling on his training, he put on his game face.

“Nothing crazy, Jordan,” Simon warned. “You are back on US soil and have been trained as a Private Investigator,
not
a vigilante.”

Jordan nodded, fulling intending to disregard Simon’s wishes. He knew what and where he was. But Mia’s life was at stake, and he wasn’t about to tread lightly.

Mother. Fucker.

Michael Bishop lived six blocks away from him. As Ryan pulled in across the street from the building, Jordan stared, mystified. She’d been in his fucking neighborhood the entire time and he hadn’t had a god-damned clue.

Checking his extra magazines, he made sure they were in his left pocket before he double-checked his Colt 1911. Jordan ignored the pain in his hand as he curled it around the weapon. Used to be, he could shoot with his left hand as well as his right. Now, he just had to be sure his right hand was available to shoot.

Ryan was in the passenger seat, checking his gear. They’d both changed at his apartment, Ryan having his gear in his truck. They wore tactical vests with built-in body armor and enough pockets to hold extra magazines, restraints, rope, the battery packs to power lights, radios, and Ryan’s night-vision scope, flash-bang grenades, smoke grenades, first aid kit, and Jordan’s halligan tool in case they needed to break in. It was probably overkill, but they were ready for anything.

As Jordan snuck around the side of the house to use the lock-pick kit on the door presumably leading to the garage, he briefly thought of the shit storm he and Ryan were about to rain down. They weren’t calling the cops in, although Simon was probably going to. But he couldn’t wait around an hour for Detective Hollerman to get there. Mia might not have an hour.

Opening the door, Jordan found it was, in fact, a garage. No cars, only boxes piled up along the edges, a washer and dryer, and the biggest pile of laundry he’d ever seen. Especially for one guy.

Odd.

He found the breaker box and tossed them all, blanketing the house in darkness.

Checking his watch, Jordan had twenty seconds before Ryan threw the flash bangs. Stealthily creeping to the pile of clothes, he shined his flashlight over it.

Ho-ly fuck.

He pressed the button on his neck that operated the radio. “I found Evelyn, maybe Misty.”

A pair of terrified brown eyes blinked at him from the pile of clothes. She was draped over another body. He didn’t know who it was—Evelyn or Misty—but he could tell it wasn’t Mia.

“Ten seconds, dude,” was all Ryan said.
Focus on the mission: get Mike.
Help would happen afterward.

“I’ll be back. We’re here to help you.” The eyes blinked back at him rapidly in acknowledgement, and Jordan took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was coming.

Reluctantly leaving the women in the pile of clothes, Jordan’s heart started pounding as he pulled the smoke grenades out of his pocket. When his timer clicked, he pounded in the door to the house with his foot, tossing the smoke canisters while Ryan set off the flash bangs, both of them yelling like lunatics.

Dropping to the ground and rolling for the nearest cover he could find, Jordan got inside the house and realized it was, in fact, occupied.

Screams had erupted from a room not too far away, and Jordan felt his bowels loosen at the sound of his Mia’s voice. His hair stood up on end, even while he told himself if she was screaming, she was alive. He would get her out of here.

Steeling his resolve, Jordan took a breath while reminding himself he was trained for this and shouldn’t be thinking—he should be reacting. They were supposed to be throwing the perp off, disorientating him. Ryan was still yelling obscenities about sick, motherfucking psychopaths as Jordan saw movement off to the side of him.

Finally focused, he watched the man stick to the shadows in the inky room as he moved. As soon as Jordan heard the tell-tale click, he moved to draw fire. He needed an excuse to make this fucker dead.

But Mia’s voice froze both of them.

“He’s got a gun! He’s a sick, twisted motherfucker! His name is Mike and I’m not the first woman he’s taken! He keeps talking about the others, but I don’t know what he’s done with them!” Jordan listened with a clarity that shook him. Mia was giving her testimony in case she didn’t make it out of here alive. Fucker had done that to her; he had made her think she wouldn’t survive this.