by Cynthia Eden
“He will kill you if you go in there alone. The guy is unhinged, Ana. He’s not some victim. He’s a killer. You aren’t going in alone.”
“Cash . . .”
“We go in together. We’re partners, remember? Damn good partners. You’ll watch my back. I’ll watch yours. That’s what we do.”
“If he sees you, he might kill Dr. Cole.”
Cash’s lips thinned. “And if you go in there alone, you could die before I get to you. I can’t let that happen, Ana. I won’t.” He released her arm and jerked on his clothes. He checked his weapon, then shoved it into his holster. “My backup weapon is in the car. Let’s get moving.”
So that was it? “Cash—”
He was already yanking open the door to their motel room. “No, Ana. No arguments. Your life means too much to—”
Boom.
The gunshot seemed to come from nowhere. One moment, Cash was looking back at her, he was standing in the doorway, and in the next instant, he’d fallen back and blood soaked his shirt.
“Cash!” Ana screamed his name and ran toward him.
Boom.
The shot hit her, not in the chest, but high in the shoulder. She staggered, nearly going down—
“I will shoot you again, this time in the head, if you don’t come with me right now.”
Ana’s head whipped toward the doorway. A woman stood there, a woman . . .
Her hair is like mine. She . . . she almost looks like—
The woman’s gun was aimed at Ana, but then she jerked the weapon down, suddenly aiming it at Cash once again. “Better plan. He’s still alive, but not for long. If you don’t get your ass over here, I’ll make sure his brains are all over the floor. Bang, bang. Just like he’s done to the suspects he takes down.”
Ana lunged forward. Her whole arm felt numb. “No! Don’t shoot him!”
The woman grabbed her. She was taller than Ana, and far stronger than she looked. She shoved the gun to Ana’s temple. “Walk with me. Now. You stop, you stumble, and my finger pulls the trigger.” She gave a little laugh. Light. Twisted. “And you’ll be dead. Then I’ll be the only Ana.”
What?
Ana glanced down at Cash, desperate. His eyes were opening. He stared blearily up at her. “Ana?”
But the woman was yanking her out. Pulling her away.
This bitch is crazy if she thinks I’ll let her overpower me. I just needed to get her away from Cash so she wouldn’t shoot him again. And now—
“Ana?” That was Sarah’s voice. Sarah had run out of her motel room—one a few doors down from Cash’s. She was racing toward Ana and the crazy bitch who held Ana. “Ana, what’s happening?”
The gun jerked away from Ana’s head. Ana’s attacker aimed it at Sarah.
“Get down, Sarah!” Ana yelled as she struck her assailant with her elbow, driving hard into the other woman’s stomach. The woman grunted and stumbled even as she fired.
Ana grabbed for the woman’s wrist. She twisted it hard—
“Ow!” A frantic scream, but the woman didn’t let go of her weapon.
Fine. Ana drew back her fist, ready to break the woman’s face—
And then she felt someone grab her from behind.
“I’m sorry, Ana.” It was his voice. The man she’d heard the other night, when he’d finally ditched the voice changer. “I can’t let you hurt her anymore.”
She hadn’t even heard him sneak up on her, but now his right arm was locked around her throat.
Because he’s the real threat. The woman was the bait. The distraction.
“We’re leaving, now,” he snapped. Then he yanked Ana against him. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Was he freaking kidding? She head butted him. “Sarah, get help!” Ana screamed. “Get—”
“I’m sorry, Ana.” Then he stabbed a needle into the side of her neck. “I’m sorry.”
Screw sorry. Cash had been shot. Cash needed help. Cash—
“Ana!” That was Cash’s roar.
Her head turned toward him, but everything seemed to be happening in super slow motion. She saw Cash standing in the doorway of his motel room. His shirt—it seemed red because there was so much blood. He was lifting his gun. Aiming it at the bastard who held her.
And—
The man who’d just stabbed Ana with the needle jerked her in front of him. “You think you can make the shot? Injured, bleeding out like that? You think you can be the hero again? I fucking don’t.” And he laughed.
The woman—crazy bitch bait—ran away, heading toward a VW Beetle. She revved the engine even as the bastard who held Ana began to haul her in the direction of that car.
She wanted to fight him, but Ana felt too sluggish. She couldn’t even lift her arm. Her body was weighted down, down . . .
“See you around, hero,” the perp taunted as he scooped Ana into his arms and ran for the car.
His mistake. He’d just given Cash a target. Cash needed to . . . “Sh-shoot . . .” Ana tried to yell. But her voice just came out as a whisper. “Sh-shoot . . .”
“He won’t,” her abductor muttered. “Because you’re not a stranger. Your life matters to him.” He jumped into the back of the Beetle with her still held tightly to him.
The tires squealed as they raced away.
They’d taken Ana. His blood-covered hand still gripped the gun as that Beetle rushed away. Cash lurched after them, and fell on his face.
“Cash!” Sarah grabbed him and rolled him over. Her eyes widened as she saw the damage. “Lie still,” she ordered him. “I’m going to help you.”
Screw him. He didn’t matter. “Go . . . after them.” He pushed his gun into her hands. His chest burned—that bullet had torn into him, and his whole body had gone weak. “Help Ana . . . get APB . . .” Just talking took every bit of strength that he had.
The wound was bad. He knew it. He’d tried to turn at the last moment, but the hit had been so close to his heart.
His heartbeat was slow. Erratic. He could feel it, as if his heart were struggling . . .
Sarah put the gun down next to her. She ripped open his shirt and her breath hissed out. “Dammit, Cash, do not die.” Then she was putting her hands on his wound, applying pressure.
“No!” The word tore from him. “Get . . . Ana . . . can’t lose her . . .” Didn’t Sarah see who the priority was? Not me. “Get on the ph-phone . . . APB . . . can stop . . . can stop . . . car . . .” Everything was getting darker.
And his chest didn’t hurt now. It felt numb.
He felt numb.
“Cash!” Sarah’s voice was sharp. Demanding. “Dammit, do not do this! Do you understand? I don’t like it when people die on me!”
Only fair. He didn’t like dying.
Not when there was so much to live for.
Like Ana.
Ana . . . “Save . . . her . . .”
“Cash!”
Her voice wasn’t loud any longer. And he wasn’t even sure if his heart was still beating.
It was bright. Too fucking bright. A light shone down on him and Cash squinted, trying to figure out where the hell he was.
People were around him. Wearing masks. Leaning in too damn close. He tried to swipe out at them, but some dick had strapped down his arms.
“He’s awake,” a woman said, sounding surprised.
“Shit . . . Ron, check his anesthesia . . .”
Cash yanked on the straps.
“Agent Knox, you just have to stay calm.” It was the woman again. He had no clue who she was. “You’re safe. We’re going to take good care of you.”
But when he looked over at her, he saw that her gloved fingers were stained with blood.
His blood.
They were cutting him open.
They were all wearing green scrubs. White face masks. Doctors. Hospital.
Not dead. Not dead . . . yet. He tried to talk but couldn’t. Some damn tube was in his mouth. He needed to ask, had to find out . . .
Ana. Where’s Ana
? Is she safe? Did they find her? Where. Is. Ana?
But his eyes were closing again and the too-bright light turned to darkness.
It was too bright. Ana squinted against the light. It was shining right into her face. She tried to lift her hand, wanting to shield her eyes, but someone had bound her hands behind her. Tied them tight with thick, rough rope.
“She’s awake,” a woman said, giving a quick, light laugh. “I didn’t think I’d be able to play so soon.”
Ana couldn’t see her—she couldn’t see beyond the light. She tried to speak, but her lips were taped shut. Bound and gagged.
But alive. I’m still alive.
Was Cash? The last time she’d seen him, he’d been covered in blood. She blinked against the light and the tears that were filling her eyes.
“She’s not supposed to be awake yet.” It was a man’s voice. Angry. Then he was leaning over her, a big, menacing shadow behind the light. “Sorry, Ana. It’s not time yet.” And a pinprick of pain whispered along her neck. That pinprick and then . . .
Her veins seemed to turn cold.
He drugged me again.
He backed away. “Glad we switched rides when we did.”
The bright light fell away from her.
She was on her side, her legs curled up, her feet tied just like her hands.
He stared down at her. “See you again soon, Ana.”
And he—he slammed a door shut. No, not a door. Too small for a door.
A few moments later, the surface beneath her—around her—above her—began to vibrate. She smelled exhaust and Ana realized—
Not a door. A trunk. He locked me in a trunk.
And it was so dark, her veins were so cold, and she was afraid. So very afraid.
But not for herself. For Cash.
Was he alive?
Cash . . .
God, she hoped so. Because Ana didn’t really want to think of a world without him.
Chapter Nineteen
Cash opened his eyes. He could hear a steady beep, could smell the light scent of antiseptic, and slightly starchy sheets were beneath him.
The walls were white, and a wipe-off board was positioned on the wall at the foot of his bed. The words Nurse: Suzy were written in big, swirling letters on that board.
He was alone in the room. Not surprising, he was usually alone. He’d gotten used to being that way except . . .
With Ana.
The fingers of his left hand reached for the IV that fed into him. He yanked it out, barely feeling the pain, and a little spurt of blood shot into the air. Cash sat up in the bed, feeling weak and hating that weakness. He looked down at his chest and saw the bandage that covered him.
He’d survived. He didn’t know how bad his injuries were, and right then, he didn’t care.
The only thing he cared about was Ana.
Cash swung his legs to the side of the bed. The machines near him were beeping like crazy, probably because he’d yanked out that IV. The noise they made grated on his ears and caused his temples to throb. He pushed to his feet, then stood a moment, swaying.
The door to his room flew open. A pretty blonde stood there, staring at him in shock. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.” He was stark naked. “Clothes would . . . help.” His voice sounded like a frog’s croak.
“You can’t leave!” she cried, obviously shocked. “You had surgery two days ago! You need to rest. You need—”
“Two . . . days ago?” He shook his head, sure that he had misheard her. Probably because of all the damn machines. “Not . . . possible.”
“What’s not possible is you—leaving. You’re going to mess up all of Dr. Brown’s fine work. I mean, you cheat death and that’s great, but you don’t get to go out and start running marathons the next day!” She bustled toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. “You need to get back in bed and—”
“Give me something to wear . . . or I’ll be walking out of this hospital naked.”
Her jaw dropped. But then she rallied. Her big smile came back. “You’re a little confused. You—”
“Naked. That works.” He took a step away from the bed.
But once more, the door opened. Only this time, an older man in a finely cut suit stood there.
FBI Executive Assistant Director Darius Vail.
Vail sighed. “For the love of God, Suzy, get that man some clothes.”
The nurse obviously knew who the new visitor was because she snapped to attention. She ran to the bathroom and came back out with a robe. She tried to help Cash put it on, but he took it from her and struggled into it himself.
“Your stitches—” she began.
He just grunted. “They’ll pop or they won’t.”
The executive assistant director shook his head. “Told you he’d be a terrible patient. Suzy, will you give us a moment?”
She flashed her big smile at the executive assistant director. “Of course, sir.” She hurried past him but tossed Cash one last, warning look on her way out.
Darius paced toward Cash. “Knew you’d be chomping at the bit to get out of here. That’s why I came by so early today.”
“Two days.” His voice was still raspy. Probably because he’d had tubes jammed down his throat. “She said I’d been out for two days.”
Darius nodded. A tall, distinguished African American in his late fifties, Darius was a no-nonsense player. He got the job done, with minimum risk for his agents. He valued his personnel, and he never shied away from a challenge. Normally Cash admired the guy, but when Darius said, “Yeah, two days have passed”—well, Cash wanted to shove his boss out of the way and go charging out of the hospital.
“Two days,” Darius said again as he settled himself directly in Cash’s path. “And, no, I’m sorry to say, there has been no sign of Ana Young during that time.”
Cash locked his muscles. “It was a black VW Beetle, older model, license plate—” Shit, what had the license plate been? His hand lifted and he rubbed his temple. “License plate—”
“Dr. Jacobs gave us the license plate. And we found the car abandoned at a rest stop. Only there was no sign of Ana, and the car had been wiped clean.”
Cash shook his head. “I have to find her. I need to—”
“The FBI is working in conjunction with Ana’s team at LOST. I know this is personal for them, so when Gabe Spencer showed up, I wasn’t about to close him out of the investigation. I figure we could certainly use his help. After all, when it comes to finding the missing, LOST knows their shit.”
Cash tried to step around the executive assistant director, but Darius caught his arm. “You’re not strong enough for this. Do you know how close that bullet was to your heart? You were in surgery for four and a half hours.”
“I’m strong enough.” He was alive. And he didn’t care about the bullet, not then. Ana. Ana.
“Cash . . .” Darius exhaled heavily. His hold tightened. “It’s been over forty-eight hours. You know the odds—”
Cash knocked his hand away. “Don’t talk to me about odds.” He didn’t need to hear them. Didn’t need to know that with every moment that passed, the chances of finding Ana were supposed to dwindle. “Screw those odds. Ana survived before and she’ll do it again. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met. The smartest. She’ll get in the perp’s head . . . Ana understands monsters. She won’t be killed. She won’t. She’ll stay alive and I’ll find her, and Ana will be safe.”
That was the only option. The only way he could think. Because if he imagined Ana hurt, dead . . . then Cash’s world would rip apart—he would rip apart. It couldn’t happen.
Ana. I have to find Ana.
“You’ll be a liability out there,” Darius said grimly. “You’re too weak for this.”
Liability. “I would die if it meant Ana could come back. They took her on my watch. Mine.”
The door squeaked open. Asher Young stood there, his face locked in hard, angry lines. Had the guy been outs
ide the whole time, eavesdropping?
“I said I’d always keep her safe,” Cash continued, voice grating. “I failed Ana. I have to get her back.”
Darius didn’t turn to see who’d slipped into the room. “Even if you kill your damn fool self?”
Even then. “Don’t plan on dying,” Cash rasped. “Plan on catching the perps who took my Ana. Plan on getting her back, no matter . . . the cost.”
“You’re letting your personal feelings get in the way. You’ll be a detriment—”
A detriment. A weakness. Fuck, no. “My feelings will help me find her. My feelings . . .” And, yeah, he looked straight at Asher as he said this. “My feelings make me need to search, they will make sure I never stop looking. I will bring Ana home.” Now he glanced back at Darius. “And either I’ll be . . . working with you . . . or on my own . . .” But he wasn’t staying in that hospital. He was going to find Ana.
“Told you he’d say that,” Asher drawled. He lifted his hand, and a black duffel bag hung from his fingers. “Sorry I’m a little late. Got his clothes.” Asher strode into the room. The faint lines near his mouth were deeper and he had dark shadows under his eyes.
Ana’s eyes.
It was the first time that it had actually hurt to look at Asher.
“I’m getting my sister back,” Asher said. “I don’t think she’s dead. Not Ana. She’s waiting for us, she’s staying alive for us, and I think it’s time we stopped making her wait.”
“Cash . . .” Darius began.
Cash took the duffel bag from Asher. “I’m sorry. I didn’t stop them, I didn’t—”
“Didn’t shoot because you were afraid you’d hit my sister?” Asher shook his head. “Save the apologies. I already know what happened. Sarah told me. Told me all about how you dragged your bleeding ass out of the motel room and tried to crawl after my sister.”
He’d crawled? Cash didn’t—
“Do you love her?” Asher asked.
“Yes.” He stared straight into Asher’s dark gaze. “I love her and I will do anything to get her back. Those perps—they said I was a monster. They’re about to see just how much of a monster I can truly be.”
Because for Ana . . . he would unleash hell. All of the darkness he’d kept chained so carefully inside of himself, it would come out. For her.