HIS Series Box Set (Books 4-7) Read online

  Only, two of the seven girls had not been there that morning. According to the remaining victims, the two had been taken during the night. They hadn’t seen who had snatched them since their room was kept dark.

  The FBI made the raid as planned and saved the remaining five girls, plus they arrested the sickos who’d sought to purchase them. But they couldn’t find anything about where the missing two girls were located. Misty and Mandy—identical twins—had vanished.

  She’d failed them. Sure, she wasn’t the only person who’d worked the case, but she’d held a certain personal responsibility for them.

  “Rylee?”

  Placing a smile on her face, she willed the memory to vanish and brought herself back to answering Brent. “I’ll think about it.” She hated giving him hope, but after the night she’d had… the daydream of Devon… and thinking of how she’d failed the girls, this discussion was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

  In a synchronous manner that suggested they’d done this quite frequently together, he switched the lights off while she set the alarm. Amidst the beeps of the security system, they exited through the heavy wooden door. As Brent locked it, Rylee glanced around the parking lot with only their two cars in attendance.

  Pynk was an exclusive nightclub. She’d originally scoffed at the idea of her managing a bar. How would she handle the rowdiness that was always there—even if exclusive? Thankfully, the bouncers kept everyone in check. And, they had plenty of the burly men watching over the place because partying men and women could definitely be a handful. Especially when they were drunk.

  She snorted. She knew what could happen when one drank too much. Her Vegas experience was a prime example.

  Brent turned to her and raised his eyebrows with a big smile on his face. “What’s so funny?”

  She hadn’t told him about what had occurred on that trip. She couldn’t. She didn’t need anyone else knowing about her shame of not remembering. Sometimes she wished she could remember her night with Devon. From what she’d learned, he was a good man. And he was damn fine to boot. It didn’t matter how close they were as friends, she wouldn’t speak the words. “Just thinking of the Lawson bachelorette party tonight. I think the bride may feel worse than the groom tomorrow.”

  He laughed and shook his head a fraction. “You may be right. I saw the women leave. Her friends tried to support her, but they all fell. The bouncer helped them into the limo. It’s a smart idea to have car service as part of those packages.”

  “That was Madison’s idea.” She turned with Brent in the direction of the parking lot. Several lights were busted out in the parking lot, so she picked up her step, hurrying to her car. Even with Brent, a little apprehension hit her with the near darkness. “She’s been a stickler about the rules for the club. Number one was no drinking and driving.” Club membership, or party packages, included a ride home by taxi or car service for anyone who had any alcoholic beverage. Oddly enough, most were always agreeable on that front.

  A noise reached her ears and she looked around nervously, stepping closer to Brent.

  “Lookie who we have here.” A deep voice reached out from the shadows as a tall man stepped into the dim light.

  Rylee froze, trying her hardest to calm her pounding heart. She’d stepped away from the agency, having had enough of dealing with thugs. Wanting out of the situation as quickly as possible, she surreptitiously looked around for the best way to escape.

  Brent stiffened beside her.

  She turned her head and almost cried out at the sight of a second man, with arms the size of tree trunks, holding a gun to Brent’s temple. Holy fuck! These men had slipped up on them almost noiselessly.

  Adrenaline and fear struck their way through her bloodstream, the mixture confusing her system.

  “You can have my wallet. It’s in my right back pocket.” Brent’s calm voice surprised her. Trained agent or not, a gun to one’s head could change one’s reaction. Yet, his demeanor ratcheted down her nerves, enough to think clearly. To work out how they could get out of this mess.

  “I don’t give a shit about your wallet, pretty boy.” The thug who’d first spoken pulled back his jacket to display his weapon in a shoulder holster.

  Shock reverberated in her mind at learning this wasn’t a robbery. She had to do something, but had no idea what. Fear held her immobile. While it hadn’t been long since she’d left the agency, her reactions were no longer the same. She wished she knew how to read Brent’s thoughts.

  “Rylee, run,” the man who’d just poured his heart out and admitted to love her whispered.

  No way in hell would she leave him to deal with this alone. Unfortunately, she and Brent were without weapons. At least she was. As a civilian, she didn’t carry anymore, and she cursed herself for not doing so. Brent might be armed, but she couldn’t quite reach inside his jacket without notice.

  The sound of an engine had her looking away from the men. A black limousine pulled up and stopped beside them. Her eyes darted from it to the figure who’d spoken as he strode into the light, walking to the car. With each step, a crunch echoed around the dimly lit lot. Following the man’s progress, she assumed it was broken glass from the security bulb under his feet. Immediately, her thoughts went to the camera. She hoped it wasn’t broken and was recording.

  “What do you want?” She forced anger into her words, pleased that no syllable quivered.

  Her stomach soured when the man holding the weapon to Brent laughed.

  Brent’s voice stood strong in his demand, “Rylee, when we’re out of this, we’ll sit down to peach cobbler.”

  She stiffened. That was a code for them that things were not going to go their way, and he wanted her to leave him. He thought he might die. Bullshit! She wouldn’t leave him to that fate. They’d find a way to escape.

  A grunt sounded from the goon holding the limo door open. “Get in the car, bitch, and we leave him alone. Our boss wants to talk with you.”

  “Boss? Who the hell are you people?” she questioned.

  “Rylee honey, come here and see me.” The voice that drifted from the vehicle sent a chill scraping its way up her spine. No. Not him.

  Dave Westbrook was Keith Westbrook’s son. He’d been cleared in the investigation of his father’s sex slave business, since he’d been clueless of what Keith had been involved in, or so it had seemed. His presence sent her senses reeling more than she thought possible.

  What could he want? He’d been ecstatic when they’d arrested his father. There’d been no love lost between them. Yet, it was his father. His meal ticket. Did he blame her for it all? She’d only been one of many agents involved. Shit. Brent had been another.

  “I have information for you on those two missing girls.”

  Dave’s admission from the vehicle’s interior darkness caught her attention. Misty and Mandy. Would he really help them? She had been searching for the two girls since she’d left the FBI, but she’d hit nothing but dead ends. According to her FBI friends, she was doing more than the bureau to find them.

  Her heartbeat raced at the thought of finally finding the twins. She had to know what the man knew, but she wouldn’t leave Brent to these men. “I’ll go, but only if Brent is released.”

  “Get in the damn car.” Tall, dark, and menacing, the guy by the car door made his order and frustration clear.

  Brent bit out through clenched teeth, “Rylee, they’re going to kill me no matter what you do. You run and save yourself.” He no longer held back by talking in code, and there was no way she would be able to outrun a gun.

  The man holding the weapon laughed again. Fucking asshole. I’ll remember that snub-nosed face for after this is over.

  She turned back to the man holding the limo door open since he appeared to be the leader of the two thugs and narrowed her eyes. “I promise to come quietly if you let him go.”

  “Or,” the man replied in a slow, calculating voice, “I can kill him now and toss your ass in the car.
”

  “Just put them both in the damn car, Chuck,” Dave snapped.

  Chuck—thug by the car door—shrugged at her. “Sure, whatever. Just get the fuck in the car, or I’ll put you in it.”

  “Rylee, save yourself,” Brent pleaded, his eyes sincere and desperate.

  She touched his forearm like he’d touched hers earlier, tender and loving. “It’s the only option. I won’t chance them shooting you.” She dropped her voice so only he could hear. “Besides, we’re stronger together, and he might know where the girls are.”

  The man holding the weapon to Brent’s head laughed again, letting her know she hadn’t been quiet enough.

  It was that possibility that had her turning and entering the limo, keeping as far away from Dave as possible. His smile sickened her, but for the moment, she had to trust him. When Brent slid in beside her, she breathed a short sigh of relief.

  Dave, sitting on the side bench seat, poured himself a drink as the limo moved forward. “I’m starting Dad’s business over again.”

  That statement and the determination resounding behind it stunned her to silence. He’d always turned a blind eye to how his father made money. He just went about his playboy life, spending like he had a bottomless pit of funds at his disposal. She’d always wondered if he secretly knew what was happening. Now, he wanted to start the disgusting business again? She couldn’t picture Dave being that ruthless. It must boil down to money. Since they’d taken his father’s funds, he’d been left broke and in need of an income source.

  “I thought you had no idea what your father was doing?” She studied his reaction to see if they’d got it all wrong when they’d cleared him.

  His laugh set her nerves on edge. “I knew. I didn’t participate, but I knew. And, he didn’t let me forget that I was a disappointment for not being part of his enterprise.” He gave an insolent shrug. “Do you think he’d turn in his own son? The one he asked to keep the good name going?”

  “So, you have no problem doing this? Kidnapping and selling young girls?” Anger boiled in Brent’s words.

  Settling back in his seat, Dave tossed his arm across the top of the seat and crossed a leg over a thigh. “I have a partner who knows exactly what to do.” He sipped his drink, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.

  She wanted to slap the smugness from his voice. “If they know what to do, what do they need you for?” Rylee clasped and squeezed Brent’s hand before releasing it. They would find out what they needed to save the girls, but they had to think of how to get out of this mess. Why would Dave tell them and then release them? She cursed her delayed instincts. Something definitely wasn’t right.

  “Because, I have my dad’s contacts, the ones the FBI never found. And, since my dad didn’t turn the buyers in, I have the family name to trade on.” He shot her a menacing smile. “And, the twins will be the first to go.”

  “What—” She cleared her throat and started again, “What do you mean?” It appeared that the information he had for her about the girls hadn’t been to help her find them, but to brag that he had them and planned to profit from them. Her muscles tightened as she restrained herself from leaping across the car’s interior and punching the bastard in the nose.

  “They’ll be glad to see you again. I’m tired of hearing their whining and crying all the time.”

  Her spine stiffened and she sat straighter. See each other? Why would he take her to them? Oh no. Brent. This shit just got worse. What will they do with him? She took a deep breath and held it. Settle down and think. There has to be a way to get out of this… for all of us. Keep him talking until you figure it out or Brent acts. “How did you find the girls?”

  “Don’t you know?” He laughed at her apparent bewilderment. “Good ole Dad gave me the twins in hopes that my tastes would change,” he spat out with bitterness.

  Dave liked men, and it rankled his father to no end, especially considering his father’s line of business.

  “Where are they?” Her pulse pounded, awaiting his slow response. They’d find out this information then prepare to escape.

  “I have a friend keeping them safe for me.” He saluted them with the glass in his hand. “Untouched.”

  She released the breath she’d been holding. Her temper flared at the thought of how afraid they must be. “Why are you taking me to see them?” Which means I won’t be allowed to leave, nor will Brent. She prayed Brent had figured out what they would need to do to remain alive because she couldn’t.

  “Two reasons really. I need someone to take care of them and the ones we add. Plus”—he drilled his stare into her as her heart plummeted—“you will pay for sending my father away and making me have to work. I have a client Dad lined up who wants you. Consider it his revenge from behind bars.”

  “Like hell—” Brent’s angry words were cut off by a jolt.

  A loud crunching sound of metal against metal from a car hitting them preceded the jar from behind that sent Rylee flying forward into the barrier that separated the passengers from the driver before she slid to the floor. Pain radiated through her head, and she could do nothing more than lie there, cradling it between her palms. A warm liquid slid over her hands. It hurt so much that she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. But, she had to move. She and Brent needed to escape. She’d try something else to find the girls.

  A heavy weight of a full body pinned her to the spot. Her vision began to tunnel, zooming in and out of focus as she fought it with her will to remain conscious. She couldn’t pass out. She had to be in control. It was their only chance.

  The sound of fabric swishing across leather alerted her that one of the men had returned to a seat. The body on top of her groaned but didn’t move.

  “Rylee?” Brent whispered. His voice was close to her ear.

  He was the man who covered her, and thank God he was alive. For her, at least nothing hurt severe enough to prevent her from escape. “I can’t breathe. You’re too heavy.”

  He grunted and shifted, and then she felt his arm move between them. A sigh escaped her at the sound of a gun being slipped from its holster.

  As he began lifting his body from hers, the car door flew open. Rylee’s view, still blocked by Brent, meant she wasn't able to see who’d opened it. She assumed it was whoever had hit them.

  “No!” The panic lacing Dave’s words sent fear pulsing through her.

  Before she had time to speak, three shots rang out. She cringed at the loudness and then barely bit back her scream as Brent slumped back on her. Holding her breath, the sobs threatening to escape, Rylee then heard the door being slammed closed.

  Fuck! She opened her eyes, not wanting to turn and look at Brent. But she had to know. Angling her head, her gaze connected with Brent’s lifeless eyes. God no!

  Trying to keep it together, if only for a few more moments, she peeked around him as best as she could without moving. She saw Dave. Bile rose in her throat when she zoned in on his blood and brain matter on the seat.

  Trying to get her brain to work before her emotions took over she realized two things. Brent hadn’t gotten off a shot and the person who had killed both men was still out there.

  Rylee looked back to Brent and squeezed her eyes shut as a tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. He’d blocked her from the shooter’s vision. If he hadn’t, she knew she’d also be dead. It was her fault he’d been here instead of back at the club. And he’d paid with his life.

  She fought the racking sob welling inside her at the painful loss of her friend and attempted a few calming breaths. She couldn’t lose it; she had to move. Closing her eyes, ignoring the tears and what she assumed was blood staining her cheeks, she knew moving put her at risk. It might shift the limo and alert the killer to her presence. They’d left an unexpected witness. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t actually witnessed anything.

  More gunshots broke the silence. She had a sinking feeling that the driver had been murdered too. What happened to Dave’s goons? Th
ey must not have followed. Unless that had been them. No, it couldn’t be because they knew she was here. So where were they?

  What the hell did she do now? Obviously no one was riding to their rescue. She had no idea who had killed the men, and she’d be damned if she even attempted to chase them. She was a civilian, alone, and with a bleeding head. She released a deep, shuddering sigh. Without Dave, she had nothing to give the FBI about the girls except hearsay. Hell, they wouldn’t believe her that he was involved. Not after they’d cleared him.

  The squeal of tires, a vehicle racing away broke the silence, yet she waited. With all quiet for minutes, she knew it was time. Rylee pushed aside the agonizing pain and crawled from beneath her friend. She said a short prayer and kissed Brent on the forehead before closing his eyes. Then, she emptied both men’s pockets.

  When she found what she needed, Rylee ran.

  DEVON HAMILTON STARED at the document in his hands and called himself every form of fool possible. All he had to do was sign his name. It wasn’t a difficult task. It was just a damn signature. He’d done it hundreds of times in his life. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up a pen. He wasn’t a quitter and signing this document would shout, “I quit.”

  The whole situation didn’t seem real. How could it? To him, it truly wasn’t. Yet, here in black and white, it was about as real as it got.

  Fuck. He’d thought once he’d stepped back and waited, that things would’ve turned in his favor. But life had a way of surprising the hell out of you.

  If only he could remember….

  The sound of shuffling feet and men’s voices entering the room interrupted his thoughts. He slid the paper into his desk in the HIS war room for safekeeping. This document contained his problem… his decision… his secret. He’d have to deal with it later. Right now, he had a job to do.

  The room filled and he confirmed all necessary personnel was in attendance. Well, all except Trent McKenzie, their half brother. Trent had another skin graft surgery two days prior. His physical healing was progressing well, but he’d forever be scarred. His emotional healing was another story. He’d sacrificed a lot to save Amber, their niece’s life from a terrorist bomber.