“The city is beautiful,” P.J. said, once more coming in clearly. “Even the bridge is quaint looking. What river are we crossing?”
Cole and Dolphin exchanged looks and then at the same time hit the adjoining door with enough force to knock it down. They rushed into the hotel room only to find it empty.
The liquor cabinet was open but everything else was exactly as P.J. had left it.
Their gazes tracked downward, and lying on the floor was the jewelry that P.J. had been wearing. The necklace was carelessly strewn and the earrings were scattered as if they’d been ripped off her and discarded. Just as they took in the glittering bracelet that was broken into three pieces, P.J.’s voice came over the wire once more.
“I still can’t believe you broke my bracelet,” she said in a pouty tone. “It was my favorite.”
“It wasn’t even real,” Nelson said impatiently. “Besides, you won’t need it. All you need to worry about is pleasing me.”
The threat in his voice sent a hot flush down Cole’s body. Rage. Anger that P.J. was vulnerable and as of now he didn’t have a f**king clue where she was. She was trying to give them clues through the wire Donovan had planted on her.
Steele, Donovan, Baker and Renshaw burst into the room, their expressions grim. They’d heard everything he had.
Cole looked up as cold fear replaced the heated fury that had boiled in his veins. He held up the broken bracelet so the others could see it.
“We have a huge f**king problem here.”
CHAPTER 9
P.J.’S nerves were shot to hell by the time they arrived at the looming stone house just a few miles from the city center. Though on the fringe of the hustle and bustle of downtown, it was a quiet neighborhood with much more space between the homes. And the one whose garage he’d driven into was huge.
She oohed and made the appropriate noises of appreciation all the while trying her best to convey enough information that her team could find her. She probably sounded like a complete airhead with the way she parroted information, but damn it, she was scared.
Never before on a mission had she felt fear like this. If someone handed her a rifle right now she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. But then she’d never been separated from her team. She’d always had their backup and unwavering support.
Now? She was completely on her own.
She was convinced that the ass**le had broken her bracelet on purpose, which meant she was in some pretty deep shit. If he suspected she wasn’t who she said she was or even if he just wanted to play it safe, it still left her without a huge safety net. And it meant he had some not-so-nice plans for her.
At least she still had the patch on her arm so her teammates could hear her.
“You talk too damn much,” Nelson snapped as he herded her toward the door.
She halted and made a show of getting huffy. “Then maybe you should just bring me back to my hotel.”
His hand curled around her nape and he all but shoved her inside the house. “Not going to happen, princess.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded as she tried to wrench herself free from his grasp.
But his fingers pressed tighter into her flesh and he all but picked her up, dragging her into the spacious sitting room. He tossed her down onto the couch and then wrested the bottle of tequila from her hands.
“Don’t even think about going anywhere,” he threatened.
She held up her hands hoping to hell they weren’t shaking.
“Hey, chill out. Pour us a drink. No need to get so damn rough. Are you into that kinky shit? Because let me say before things go too far that I’m not. And if you are, then let’s just call it quits right now.”
He gave her a look that told her without words to shut up. She went silent and waited, every single second agonizing.
He pulled out glasses that damn sure weren’t shot glasses and he poured a liberal amount of tequila into both. A moment later he returned and shoved one of the glasses into her hand.
“Bottoms up,” he said.
Maybe if she got him drunk enough she could toss his ass and be out of this. Or maybe she could at least buy enough time for her team to come get her. Either plan worked for her.
She gulped down half the contents of the tequila, stopping before she risked puking it all back up. She wiped the back of her mouth with her hand as he finished off his. To her surprise he didn’t get angry that she hadn’t drunk it all. He took the glass from her then touched her hair in a surprisingly gentle gesture.
He gave her a look that seemed regretful. “This isn’t the way I wanted things to go down for the evening, but the boss saw you and he wanted you. Not much I could do after that.”
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit! Her adrenaline shot up and her pulse started pounding like a jackhammer.
Despite her heightened anxiety and her increased pulse rate, the room was moving in slow motion. She tried to lift one of her arms and it felt like it was encased in lead.
“You drugged me!” she accused, hoping she wasn’t so garbled that her team heard and knew it was time to yank the plug for this mission.
Nelson grimaced. “I like my women to fight. Drugging is the coward’s way out, but my boss gets off on knowing they’re completely helpless.” He shrugged as he made his way over to where P.J. was precariously sagging toward the couch. “I don’t mind a few scratches. Makes it more exciting when I overpower them.”
“You’re sick. All of you. Sick bastards,” she croaked.