No Going Back (Revolving Door Book 3)

by Dani Matthews

  I leave the room and make my way to the foyer, going up the stairs. “Everything okay, Ash?” I call. I wait for her reply, but only silence reaches my ears. Maybe she’d hurt herself. I quickly reach the top of the stairs and hurry down the hall to her room.

  “Ash!” I exclaim with alarm as I rush over to where she’s collapsed on the floor next to her bed. Her long, dark hair is strewn across her face, and I brush it aside, spying a red bump near her temple that’s beginning to swell. What the hell?

  “Hello, Quinn.”

  The blood freezes in my veins when I hear his voice, and I look up to see him in the doorway. He’s wearing an electrician uniform with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

  In the span of a second, it all begins to make sense. When Ash and I had pulled into the driveway, I’d glimpsed the electrician van parked in the neighbor’s driveway. I hadn’t thought anything of it.

  It was him, waiting to make his move.

  Gabe should have already appeared by now. Fear for those that I love tightens my chest, and it’s difficult to draw in a full breath of air. I slowly rise to my feet, my eyes trained on him. “Gabe?” I whisper, dreading the answer.

  Those pitiless brown eyes observe me, alert to my ever move. “He’s taking a nap.” His gaze drops to Ash’s prone body. “Just like your friend here.” I watch as his expression hardens. “Are you going to be difficult, Quinn?”

  The photo of the blue-haired woman flashes in my mind, and I know that if I leave with him, I will become a similar picture—and I will die. Hell yes, I’m going to be difficult! My eyes dart around, but I have nowhere to go, and he’s blocking the doorway.

  He lunges at me, giving me no more time to think, and I throw myself to the side, stumbling. He dives for me, and before I can recover, his hand wraps around my ankle, yanking me down to the floor.

  My elbows hit the carpet first, and then the rest of my body follows, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs. I try desperately to kick at him, but I’m on my stomach and completely vulnerable as he crawls up my body, his heavy weight trapping me beneath him.

  I open my mouth to scream, but it comes out muffled as my nose and mouth are covered with a cloyingly sweet-smelling rag. Instinct as me trying to buck him off as I claw at the carpet, struggling not to inhale. I feel one of my nails tear away from my skin, but the pain is barely noticeable. My heart is thundering inside my chest as I fight for my life, but the lack of oxygen is getting to me.

  The weight on top of me is crushingly heavy, and I know he’s patiently waiting for me to suck in a lungful of the chemical-soaked material. I don’t have a choice, I need oxygen. My time has run out, and I draw in a desperate breath of air, allowing the chemical into my system. “That’s it,” Shane murmurs in my ear, his hand running through my hair as if trying to comfort me. My voice is muffled as I try to snarl at him, but everything begins to fade away.

  Twenty-three

  Colt

  I’m caught in traffic as I head home. So much for getting out a little early. I would have been able to swing it too had we not done that raid on an inmate’s cell. It also doesn’t help my mood knowing that Bryce has new information, and I can’t call him back until I’m with Quinn. His voicemail specified that he wanted to speak to both of us.

  I slow the truck behind a line of cars and fight the urge to lay on the horn with impatience. I hate being away from Quinn, especially when I know that sick fucker is just biding his time until he can get his hands on her.

  Feeling restless, I pull my phone from my pocket and call Quinn’s cell, simply wanting to hear her voice. It rings four times before going to voicemail. With a frown, I set the phone down. She should be home by now.

  The car in front of me inches forward, and my brows furrow as the line of vehicles begin moving along at a steadier pace. I tell myself that she’s probably not even near her phone. Ash has to pack what she’ll need for the hotel, so Quinn is probably with her. And if Harper’s home, all three women are likely together while Gabe keeps an eye on them. I’m worrying for nothing.

  No, not for nothing, I correct myself. There’s a reason for everything that’s happening, and I’d rather be over-protective than not protective enough.

  As I make my way home, I decide to have a word with my boss tomorrow. There has to be something I can work out so I’m leaving earlier than this. Not that I want special treatment or anything, but Quinn’s worth the bullshit that might fly my way.

  When I pull into the driveway and see Gabe’s and Ash’s cars, the tension begins to fade. After cutting the engine, I grab my bag and climb out, relocking the truck.

  Instead of finding the front door locked, it’s unlocked. I scowl and step inside. Everyone knows to keep the damned door locked at all times. Once the door is relocked, I wander further into the house. “Quinn?” I call.

  The only response I receive is silence.

  Something’s not right.

  I pause in the hallway near the kitchen and open my bag, pulling out my gun. After I set the bag down, I make certain the gun is loaded before silently checking the kitchen.

  Empty.

  Next, I go into Quinn’s room. Her clothes are strewn across her floor—typical Quinn. Tidiness is not her strong suit. Her purse is laying discarded on the bed, and I move towards it and open it. Her phone is still inside. Where is everybody?

  There’s still no movement coming from anywhere in the house, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Janke’s been here. I force myself to remain calm, because losing my shit solves absolutely nothing.

  I turn and walk out of Quinn’s room and peek into Gabe’s.

  Empty.

  Gabe wouldn’t go down quietly, not without a fight. What happened and fucking where? Instinct tells me to check the back door that leads to the patio and pool. I’ve always hated that door because it’s mostly made of glass.

  As soon as I turn the corner and enter the hall that leads to the back door, I find Gabe unconscious on the floor surrounded by glass.

  Son of a bitch!

  I cross the tiled floor, glass crunching beneath my boots as I squat down by him. He’s on his side, and miraculously enough, I don’t see any blood—which means he’d likely suffered a blow to the head. I check his pulse. It’s steady, and I’m momentarily relieved until I refocus my attention on finding Quinn and Ash.

  I rise to my feet and make my way back towards the center of the house. Ash had probably been upstairs at the time of the break-in, so that’s the next place to check. Careful to keep my footsteps light so as not to cause the stairs to creak, I stealthy make my way up to the second level.

  There’s a battle warring within me. As much as I want to find Quinn, I know that if she’s still here in the house, she’s likely dead. If Janke took her with him, she at least has a fighting chance.

  The hallway is empty, and I cautiously make my way to Ash’s room. The door is wide open, and she’s sprawled on the floor, unconscious. I quickly drop down beside her, easily spying the huge, swollen knot on the side of her head. I check her pulse, and it’s steady—thank God. I look around the immediate area, and my eyes halt on something on the carpet.

  I lean closer, everything within me going cold when I recognize one of Quinn’s nails. There’s blood on it with a sliver of skin still attached from when it’d ripped from her finger. Deep grooves in the carpet reveal that she’d been clawing at the carpet when her nail had torn off.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  I swallow hard, struggling to contain my fury that he’d gotten his hands on her after I’d promised that he wouldn’t. As much as I want to race out of the house and search for Quinn myself, I know it’s pointless. I don’t know where to look, and Gabe and Ash need medical attention. Furthermore, there’s evidence that needs to be processed. I’m also counting on Bryce having found additional information about Janke that will help us track the fucker down and save Quinn.

  I pull out my phone and quickly call for two ambulances. After
I end the call, I lean over Ash and carefully touch the side of her pale face. “Ash?”

  Nothing. Not even an eyelash flutter.

  Her pulse is still okay, so I take a moment to call Bryce. Just when I think I’m going to get his voicemail, he picks up, sounding distracted.

  “Janke‘s been here at the house. He took Quinn, and Gabe and Ash have been injured,” I clip out, continuing to monitor Ash.

  Bryce swears profusely before saying, “I’m on my way.” Click.

  Satisfied that he’ll be here shortly, I repocket the phone and frown at Ash. What the fuck happened here?

  “Quinn! Ash!”

  My head shoots up when I hear Gabe’s voice frantically shouting from the first floor. “Up here!” I holler.

  A second later, I hear him rushing up the stairwell, and then Gabe stumbles into the room. He looks like shit, and yet amazingly alert. His eyes sharpen on Ash’s prone figure, and he drops down beside her. “Quinn?” he asks me grimly as he peels back one of Ash’s eyelids to check her pupils.

  “She’s gone. Janke took her.”

  “She has a concussion,” Gabe mumbles, his fingers pressing against Ash’s pulse.

  “You probably do too.”

  “Have you called Channing?” he asks, his voice becoming clearer once more.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Front door unlocked for the medics?” Gabe turns his head to look at me questioningly. “I’m assuming you called?’

  “I did, and the door is locked. I’ll go wait downstairs. Don’t touch any of that,” I warn, nodding to Quinn’s nail and the grooves in the carpet.

  Gabe follows my eyes, and I watch as his face loses a bit of color. “Right,” he says softly.

  “You sure you’re good?” I ask, hesitating to leave him.

  “I’m a paramedic, I’m good,” he says dryly.

  I nod and rise to my feet, tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans. As I make my way downstairs, helplessness takes root within me.

  Goddammit.

  I should have been here.

  After I unlock the door, I call Channing and his voicemail picks up. I leave a brief message about what had happened and that he should meet the paramedics at the hospital. Once the call is finished, I pocket the phone and rake my hands through my hair. I don’t want to just fucking stand here. I want to be doing something to help Quinn.

  Pain stabs at my chest.

  She’s with him, and he’ll make her suffer. We need to find her before he can hurt her. This shit I’m feeling, it’s more painful than I could have ever imagined. It’s like a goddamned monster is clawing out my heart, and I want to roar over the fact that I might lose Quinn—permanently.

  Just the thought has me turning and slamming my fist into the wall. I barely register the pain, and before I can ram my fist into it a second time, I regain control of myself and press both hands flat against the wall, drawing in deep breaths.

  I hang my head, staring blindly at the floor as I brace myself against the wall. Quinn’s the strongest woman I know. She’s a fighter, and she won’t go down without trying to take him along with her. She’ll hang on as long as she has to until she’s rescued.

  Instead of worrying over ‘what if’s,’ I try to think logically. We know Janke’s identity. Bryce will have a better idea as to how the bastard thinks. That’s at least something.

  Sirens can now be heard, and I walk to the door and yank it open. The paramedics and police have arrived, and I also see Bryce’s car speeding down the street. An odd calmness comes over me now that I have something to focus on.

  While the paramedics go upstairs, and the police begin securing the scene, Bryce pulls me aside in the living room—out of the way of everyone moving about the house.

  “What happened?” he asks me.

  “Hell if I know. I came home to find Ash and Gabe out cold, and Quinn gone.”

  “That outdoor camera rigged to record during daytime hours if it’s triggered?”

  I blink. “Fuck, that’s brilliant. Let me go grab my laptop.” I hurry out of the living room, and I can hear the medics upstairs, Gabe’s voice mixing with the unfamiliar voices.

  I take the basement stairs three at a time and quickly grab the laptop I rarely use before double timing it back to the living room. I’m not much into electronics, but I’d bought it a long time ago, and it’s come in use with the outdoor camera.

  I set it on the coffee table and quickly turn it on before sitting on the sofa. While we wait for the computer to boot up, the paramedics come through with Ash on a stretcher. She’s still unconscious. Shouldn’t she be awake by now?

  Gabe pauses in the living room with a torn expression as he watches the paramedics leave with Ash. Then, his head turns towards Bryce and me, and he walks over.

  “You’re not going with?” I ask with surprise.

  He gingerly sits the sofa. “I’m good. As much as I want to go with to be there with Ash, we need to sort out what happened.”

  Bryce’s eyes sharpen on him. “Can you fill us in?”

  He shakes his head, looking bewildered. “I heard the back door shatter, and I ran for it. I didn’t see anyone there, and then nothing. I wake up on the floor in a bunch of glass.”

  “He must’ve known the layout of the house and hid so you couldn’t see him coming,” Bryce says.

  “I didn’t think to look in the study. He was probably right there, and I ran right past him,” Gabe says with a hint of disgust.

  The study is the closest to the back door but rarely used, so I can’t blame him for not considering that possibility. The computer is ready, and I turn and bring up the security footage. I press play on the newest file and enlarge the view.

  We watch as an electrician van comes into view of the camera, backing up to the front door as close as it can get. My eyes narrow as I watch a tall, muscular man climb out dressed in an electrician uniform with a hat pulled low over his face. He turns and strides behind the van where the door of the house is hidden from view.

  “That van, it was at the neighbor’s earlier,” Gabe says suddenly.

  “You’re certain?” Bryce asks.

  “Yes.”

  We watch the video, and for a full minute, there’s no movement. Eventually, the man comes into view from behind the van. He calmly climbs into the driver’s seat and closes the door. Then, he drives away with Quinn likely in the back.

  “Rewind and pause it so I can see the license plate,” Bryce orders.

  I adjust the video and freeze it so that we can read the license plate. Bryce yanks out his phone and orders an APB for the description of the van and the license plate. When he’s finished, he pockets the phone and looks at Gabe. “Which neighbor? I need to interview them.”

  Gabe sighs. “I bet they’re not even home. They’re usually gone during the day. It didn’t dawn on me to be suspicious. Shit,” he says with heartfelt emotion.

  “That’s why he chose that house,” I say grimly. “He’s been watching Quinn and the area long enough to know which neighbors are home during the day and which aren’t.” I look at Bryce. “You know more about this guy than we do. What are we up against?”

  Bryce shakes his head and rises to his feet. “I still need to go next door and check if anyone’s home. Let me do that first, and then we’ll talk.” I scowl, about to protest when he gives me a deliberate look. “Colt, this is my job. I know what I’m doing, and you’re going to have to trust me.”

  He’s right, and I reluctantly nod. He quickly disappears out the front door, and I rise to my feet, unable to sit still. I rub my jaw, trying to curb the anxiety building inside me. Knowing I need to remain focused, I look at Gabe. His expression is self-incriminating, and I can tell he’s beating himself up over not being suspicious of the van. “You couldn’t have known,” I tell him quietly.

  His eyes lift to mine, and his eyes are dark with regret. “But If I had…”

  “And if I’d been able to leave the prison whe
n I’d originally wanted, I would have been home and probably could have prevented this all from happening,” I tell him, knowing I’m going to have to live with my own guilty conscience.

  Gabe says nothing, and he just swallows and sits there, looking miserable.

  We both could play the blame game or we can focus on how to fix this. First thing’s first. “How’s Ash?” I ask him.

  He rubs the back of his neck, looking troubled. “I’m concerned that she hadn’t regained consciousness before the medics came. He must’ve used more force with her. Shit.” He drops his head into his hands, rubbing his face. “Channing’s going to flip out.”

  “Probably, I know I would.” I study him. “You sure you shouldn’t have gone to get checked out?”

  Gabe drops his hands. “I’m good. I know all the signs to watch for. I just can’t stand the thought of being at the hospital instead of here, helping in any way that I can.”

  I glance at the clock on the wall. “Harper’s going to be pulling up shortly.”

  Gabe glances at his watch. “Fuck. She’s going to completely lose it.”

  “Go wait outside so that she can see you’re okay when she arrives. All the police cars are going to scare her,” I advise.

  He nods, knowing that I’m right, and he stands. His eyes lock on mine. “We’re not going anywhere tonight. We’re going to stay and help.”

  I nod in agreement and watch him walk away.

  A police officer walks through the living room, and I sigh and begin to pace, waiting for Bryce to come back. When he walks through the door five minutes later, I’m on him in an instant. “Anything?”

  He shakes his head. “Looks like they were, and still are, gone.”

  I stand before him, tense. “Come on man, give me something positive here.”

  His eyes hold mine. “There’s one bit of good news.”

  “What’s that?” I ask immediately.

  “You stand between Quinn and her death. I’m almost certain of it.”

  “Come again?”

  “The first woman that was murdered, the one in Canada, she didn’t have a boyfriend. However, the one in Maine began dating someone after she broke it off with Janke. Right after she was reported missing, the boyfriend went missing within twenty-four hours. His body was found soon after, but hers wasn’t found until three days later. The coroner said she was kept alive for those four days after she was captured,” he explains.