The computer chimed and Kinsey scrambled over to it. “Got it!”
“Conference room,” Lachlan ordered.
The team moved into the conference room, and Callie watched images pop up on the screens on the wall.
Traffic footage. A red car driving through an intersection.
Her jaw hardened. She imagined Brooks hurt and alone. She didn’t like it. At all.
“That’s our car.” Kinsey tapped the keyboard. “It’s a rental.”
“Why was he taken?” Callie said.
“To get access to Team 52.” Kinsey’s face was pale. “To get access to an artifact.”
Smith’s hands landed on his woman’s shoulders, massaging gently. Not too long ago, Kinsey had been kidnapped for that very reason before they’d rescued her.
“Or they need his skills,” Seth said.
Seth was former CIA, and saw things in more shades of gray than the rest of the team.
“The last sighting of the vehicle was here.” Kinsey pointed to a map.
Northern Las Vegas. Callie tapped her fingers against her thigh. Where are you, Brooks?
She remembered when her father and sister were missing. That horrible, yawning worry. She quickly shut those thoughts down.
“Keep searching,” Lachlan ordered.
Kinsey nodded.
Blair’s phone rang and she thumbed it. “Hey, MacKade. Yeah.” A pause. “Okay. Thanks.” Blair looked up. “MacKade’s sending through some more CCTV footage. Of the fight near the computer shop.”
Kinsey tapped the keyboard. “Got it.” She tapped some more, and the footage appeared on the screen. It was a little grainy, but Callie clearly made out Brooks’ tall form.
And his attackers.
Callie sucked in a breath, watching the men come at him. It wasn’t a fair fight.
“He did well,” Axel said. “He’s been training.”
But there’d been too many against him, and they’d taken him down.
Callie released a breath and saw a muscle tick in Lachlan’s jaw.
“I’ve set up some searches,” Kinsey said. “As soon as the car is sighted again, we’ll get an alert.”
“Shit.” Blair ran a hand over her head. “Brooks.”
Callie reached out and squeezed her arm. “We’ll find him.”
“Okay,” Lachlan said. “Everybody go home. We’ve got nothing else to go on right now. Rest up, but stay alert.”
“Fuck.” Axel kicked the table.
Everyone nodded, reluctance in every move. An air of dejection hung over the team.
“Smith and I will stay here,” Kinsey said. “As soon as I have something, I’ll let you know.”
They’d been in this position so many times before—forced to watch and wait—but it never got easier. With every beat of her heart, she knew that Brooks was being taken farther away.
“Catch you guys later.” She waved and then headed out to her Nissan 370Z. When she slid inside, she rested her hands on the wheel. Not even her sporty, little coupe could improve her mood today.
It sucked when a friend was in trouble. Team 52 was used to dangerous missions, used to saving the world. But it was even harder when it was one of their own that was involved.
Again, she thought of her father and Rebecca. Callie closed her eyes and was transported back to when she’d been sixteen. Her father had gone to pick up Bec from dance practice, and his car had run off the road in a thunderstorm. She pulled in a shuddering breath. Everyone in their town had been out searching for them…but Callie had been the first to find them.
Love you, pretty girl. Even after so many years, she could still hear her dad’s voice. She’d adored him.
Shaking her head, Callie jerked her car into gear. She pulled out onto the road, passing out through the gates of the airport. Instead of heading toward her townhouse in Spring Valley, she aimed north. She wasn’t going to go home and wait. She was going to look for that damn car.
She glanced over at the lights of the Strip in the distance. She liked Las Vegas—the bright lights, the life, the energy. But there were moments when she missed Hawaii. She missed the ocean and salt-laden air. She missed catching waves at sunrise. Whenever she could, she visited her mom on the Big Island, and made the most of soaking her home in.
Soon, she passed the central part of Vegas. Things were less pretty here, some parts downright seedy. These were the parts of Vegas the tourists didn’t see.
She stopped at a red light at the intersection where the red car was last seen. She drummed her fingers on the wheel.
Damn, they could be anywhere by now.
The light changed and she drove on, scanning the streets. No red car. Ahead, a new housing development had been started, filled with half-built houses that appeared to be falling into ruin. The developers had obviously gone bankrupt.
Her pulse jumped. Between the skeletons of the houses, she caught a flash of red.
Callie did a U-turn and went back. It was a long shot, but she had to check.
She turned into the development and turned off her lights. She drove slowly and parked beside one house.
She slid out of the car, pulling out her Glock. She slipped the handgun into her waistband at her lower back. Winter had given way to spring, but it was still cool at night. She was thankful for her lightweight jacket.
Sticking to the shadows, she walked deeper among the half-built houses. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
These first houses were mostly just frames, but some farther to the back of the development looked like they’d been closer to being finished. They were almost complete, except none had any windows.
She spotted a red sedan, but couldn’t read the plate from where she was. She crept around the side of one house, and ahead, she saw a light on in one of the unfinished houses.
She stopped for a moment. It could be kids, homeless people, junkies…
But her gut told her to keep going.
She carefully circled another house, and spotted a guard outside the one that was lit up. He was big and armed, lazily scanning the night.
Callie ducked quietly into a neighboring building. Gripping the wooden framework, she quickly scaled the home. Perching on a beam, she looked through the empty window at the next-door building.
From her vantage point, she could see straight into the house next door. It had a few windows in place, but not all of them. Most of its walls were finished.
But Callie didn’t pay any attention to the house, because she saw Brooks.
He was tied to a chair, his chin slumped to his chest. Blood stained his T-shirt.
She pulled out her phone to message Lachlan, the air stuck in her lungs. Be alive, Brooks. Be alive.
* * *
Brooks swam back into consciousness and pain swamped him.
Fuck.
He heard voices and looked up. His captors were eating Chinese takeout. It made his stomach rumble.
They’d worked him over for a while, then left him to stew. He knew Team 52 would be searching for him. They all had killer instincts and they’d know he was in trouble.
But he still needed to put together a plan to get out of here, just in case.
He tested his bindings again. Tight as hell. He glanced down and realized he’d lost his glasses sometime during his abduction. He mainly needed them for close-up computer work and he thankfully had several pairs stashed in his computer room. He blinked and muttered a curse. His favorite Star Wars shirt was splattered with blood. Dammit.
“I think it’s time we try something more…motivating with Mr. Jameson,” Mr. Ordinary drawled.
One of the goons rose, sucking on a tooth. He looked at Brooks and his lips stretched into an ugly smile. “He needs his fingers to hack, but not his toes.”
Brooks’ blood ran cold. Shit.
Ordinary nodded. “Try to keep the mess to a minimum.”
The goon pulled a knife off his belt. It was big with a serrated edge.
Oh
, fuck. Brooks shifted, his chair squeaking on the floor.
The goon started toward him. Then he heard a noise outside and saw the other guards freeze.
Mr. Ordinary turned, a frown on his face. “Burton, head out front. Check it out.”
One big guy rose and disappeared through the doorway.
Brooks pulled in a calming breath. His mind kept running through the dumbest things. He realized he was supposed to have breakfast with his family tomorrow. When he didn’t show, they’d be worried. His mom would go berserk.
Burton came back and shook his head. “No sign of Mendes.”
“Shit,” the goon with the knife muttered.
The others all stood, yanking out their handguns. Two shifted closer to Brooks.
Brooks fought a grin. It had to be his team.
The tinkle of breaking glass.
The guards all swiveled, unloading bullets into the drywall. The sound of firing weapons was deafening, and dust filled the air.
Shit. Brooks’ gut clenched.
“Go!” Ordinary yelled. “Whoever it is, take care of them.”
Several goons rushed into the next room. Brooks heard more gunfire and swallowed.
Then silence.
Ordinary and his remaining two men shifted restlessly.
“Go!” Ordinary ordered.
The two men moved cautiously, Ordinary following behind them. They disappeared from view.
The pounding of Brooks’ heart was like a drum in his ears. He frantically worked on his bindings, feeling one loosen the tiniest bit.
He heard several grunts, followed by some thuds.
A moment later, a slim figure strode in.
Callie.
“Shit, Cal,” Brooks muttered.
She was coated in dust with a smear of blood on her cheek. Her straight, black hair was in a ponytail swinging behind her. Her parents were Japanese-Hawaiian and it showed in her gorgeous face, and her pale gray eyes were unique and lovely. She held a handgun at her side. Badass.
“Brooks, are you okay?” She briefly touched his cheek.
He nodded.
She circled around him, setting to work on his ropes.
She was so beautiful and badass. Brooks had been in awe of her from the moment he’d joined Team 52.
“Is the team here?”
“Just me. I called it in when I found you. I was doing a little snooping around, looking for you, and spotted the car that took you.” She smiled. “Team’s on the way. When I heard they wanted to take your toes, I couldn’t wait.”
One of Brooks’ hands was free. He lifted it and shook it to clear the numbness in his fingers. He reached up and touched her arm.
“Thanks, Cal.”
Her smile widened. She had such a pretty smile.
“Any time.”
Suddenly, they heard the scrape of something on concrete. One of the goons staggered through the door. He was big, blood running down the side of his face.
“You didn’t hit me hard enough, bitch.” He raised a gun and fired.
Callie dove to the ground. Brooks flinched.
She scrambled up, trying to raise her weapon. Another bullet hit the concrete by her feet. She rolled away, and by the time she righted herself, the man tackled her.
A shot went wild, the bullet lodging in the ceiling above. Brooks fought to untie his other hand.
The fight was vicious. Callie and the goon rolled around on the ground, kicking and hitting.
The asshole slammed some heavy punches into Callie. Damn, the guy had to have at least eighty pounds on her.
She kneed the goon in the gut, and he slammed into the wall. Callie got to her feet, just as the man reached out and grabbed a piece of wood on the floor. He swung it at her.
“Callie, watch out!” Brooks yelled.
She jumped back. The man heaved to his feet and swung again. She ducked the wood, driving a fist into the man’s gut. He staggered backward.
Screw the hand. Brooks stood, dragging the chair with him. He moved close and swung the chair. It slammed into the man’s back and the binding broke, freeing Brooks from the chair.
Dazed, the goon leaned forward, wavering on his feet. Callie jumped up and kicked him in the chest. He fell back hard with a grunt, his head cracking on the concrete.
Callie landed in a crouch and she looked up at Brooks. They grinned at each other.
Then Brooks spotted a flash of movement at the door.
Two goons rushed in. One rammed into Callie, smashing her into the wall. He thrust a stun gun into Callie’s side, and she slumped instantly.
“No!” Brooks shouted.
The other goon spun and rushed at Brooks. He found himself slammed to the ground.
“This location has been compromised,” Mr. Ordinary’s voice came from nearby. “She will have called for backup. We’re leaving. Now.”
Brooks turned his head. He was gratified to see Ordinary’s face was swelling. Callie had gotten a good hit in when she’d taken him down.
A goon yanked Brooks’ arms together in front of him and his hands were tied again. Ignoring the pain, he looked at Callie.
Her face was turned away from him and she was so still.
Cal. He wanted to touch her, make sure she was okay.
One of the goons tied Callie’s hands behind her back. “The woman?”
“Bring her. Let’s go.”
Something slammed into Brooks’ head. Then there was nothing but blackness.
Chapter Three
Callie woke to pain and a rocking sensation. She stifled a groan and opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor, in the back of a van.
Carefully, she catalogued her injuries. Nothing life-threatening, thank God.
Now, where the hell was she, and how had she gotten here?
She glanced over and saw the broad back of a man lying beside her. She was hit by a cascade of memories.
Brooks.
Body tensing, she tried to reach for him, but realized her hands were bound behind her back. Dammit. She glanced up and spotted two men sitting in front. She shuffled closer and pressed against Brooks. His body was warm, and the air rushed out of her.
“Brooks?” She kept her voice to a whisper. “Brooks?”
No response. She maneuvered herself so she could brush her cheek against his hair. The brown strands were thick and silky.
She glanced down at the tattoos on his muscular arms. So many different colors and designs. He’d told her the stories about each one—images from his favorite games and movies, pictures to commemorate milestones in his life.
That was Brooks, bright and full of life.
“Brooks?”
A faint groan.
“Shh,” she hushed.
He turned his head and their noses brushed. His brown eyes were open, a little unfocused. One was swollen and red. “Callie?”
“Hey.” She nuzzled his cheek.
He blinked. “Where—?”
“Quiet. We’re in a van. They’re taking us somewhere.”
“Shit.” He swallowed. “The team?”
“They’ll look for us.” Callie wrinkled her nose. “The assholes stripped me of my gear.”
“So, no tracker,” Brooks murmured.
She shook her head. Her phone was no doubt smashed to pieces somewhere.
He gingerly rolled over and she saw him grimace. Her gaze dropped to his shirt, and despite the circumstances, she felt the urge to laugh. It had a picture of Chewbacca on it and above the wookiee’s head, it said “Party animal.”
Only Brooks could make her want to laugh in circumstances like this.
“What do they want?” she asked.
“They want me to hack the Team 52 database.”
Crap. “They’re looking for an artifact?”
“That’s my guess. I refused to help them.”
Her pulse spiked. “Stupid.” They could have really hurt him. “But brave.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I can be b
adass too, you know.”
“Any idea who they are?”
Brooks shook his head. “Mr. Ordinary is in charge, has a team of thick-necked goons. No idea who they are.”
“We need a plan.” Callie thought things through. She needed to get herself and Brooks out of here, preferably alive. But escaping from a moving vehicle had low odds of success. “We’ll have to wait until we get where we’re going,” she told him. “Then we’ll plan our escape.”
He dragged in a breath and nodded.
She guessed it was about another hour before the van slowed. She felt the vehicle turn, pulling off a smooth, paved road, onto a bumpier track.
Finally, they stopped.
Brooks’ hands were tied in front of him and he squeezed her arm. She met his gaze, his brown eyes worried, but steady.
Then the back of the van opened, and bright sunlight spilled in. Shit, they’d obviously been driving long enough for the sun to come up.
They yanked Brooks out first, and a second later, hands gripped her legs and slid her out of the van.
As soon as she was upright, she glared at Goon One. He was about six feet tall, muscled, with a gun holstered under one arm.
Brooks was standing beside Goon Two—who was shorter and stockier, with a beaten-up face that said he liked to box. She shifted closer to Brooks.
“Move.” Goon Two shoved them both forward.
As they started to walk, Callie glanced around, cataloguing their surroundings. It was some sort of property in the desert, with a sand-covered yard ringed by a dilapidated wire fence. She stared in the distance, seeing no other buildings close by. But there were hills on the horizon. She frowned. Those were not the hills close to Las Vegas.
Damn, how far were they from Vegas? This wasn’t the Mojave.
Nearby, a small adobe house sat crumbling. It was one step above a ruin. The goons ushered them around it to an outbuilding. It looked even worse than the house, and had probably been a shed or a stable at one time.
When they walked through the open doorway, it took a second for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Her gut tightened. There were three cells in the building, each one side by side. Adobe walls separated them, and they had bars at the front.
Mission: Her Freedom: Team 52 #6 Page 2