“If we don’t get them out, then we all fail. There’s been no response from anyone in the police department in weeks. We’re watching them, everyone including the boyfriend stopped looking for her a week ago!”

My eyebrows rose at Marco’s words, and he sneered a laugh.

“Exactly. We need more from her. Bring her to the fucking lab.”

Turning again, I called over my shoulder, “If they’ve stopped looking for her, that’s your problem, not mine. You don’t get to touch her.”

“Is this really coming from Romero? Or maybe it’s someone else. Yeah, we’re supposed to use her to get the brothers out, but how the hell are we supposed to use her when you don’t leave her unprotected?”

Freezing, I schooled my features before turning back to him. Dropping my head low, I slowly looked up at him from under my eyelashes, a sadistic smile pulling at my lips. “You want to go question Romero’s orders . . . be my fucking guest. I’ll start counting down the days until he has you killed.”

I had him, and he knew it. No one questioned Romero. Not unless they had a death wish. Just the same, if Romero ever found out I’d changed his orders so I could protect her . . . I would end up with Dre, six feet under.

When Marco’s face acknowledged defeat after our conversation, I turned and blew out the breath I’d been holding.

“Cruz! Cruz! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll bring her. Our brothers need her!”

With my free hand, I threw up a middle finger and continued walking away. I wasn’t worried that the department had stopped looking for her. A sick, twisted part of me was excited. My first thought had been, If they stopped looking for her, was it possible that Rachel would one day stop waiting for them to find her?

As I walked toward the room, I kept trying to force those thoughts away. I stole her. She isn’t mine to keep, I continued to chant to myself, but that fucked-up side of me couldn’t stop smiling. She’d changed since she’d been here. She was comfortable with me . . . that was clear. I knew it was too much to hope that she might ever feel something for me. But was it wasted time imagining that day would come?

Rachel

THE SOFT BEEPS SOUNDED from the opposite side of the door, and in walked Taylor with a mischievous smile on his face. Snapping my journal shut, I set it down beside me. One of my eyebrows rose when I tried to sit up to see what he’d brought for dinner, and he turned the food away from me.

Sitting back against the wall, I eyed him and hated that I could hear the pout in my voice when I said, “You were gone a long time.”

His full lips tilted up at the corners and he dipped his head. “I went out.”

Must be nice. “Where’d you go?” And when the hell did I turn into the clingy woman?

“Close your eyes.”

“What? No! Why?”

Taylor’s expression went blank, and he prompted me to close mine again.

I shot him a glare before closing my eyes but stayed still as stone and strained to hear every movement he made. Other than a couple heavy footsteps and the telltale sounds of food containers being opened, there was nothing suspicious. But, oh God, the food smelled amazing.

I heard Taylor lower himself to the ground before he said anything again. “Open your eyes, Rachel.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. My eyes flew open, and I gasped and lunged toward one of the boxes. Not even caring that the expensive-looking chicken pasta dish was sitting in front of me. There was freaking cheesecake, and I’d been deprived of sweets for far too long.

The massive slice had been mere inches from my mouth—and yes, I was about to eat it without utensils—when it was snatched from my hands, and I looked up to see Taylor holding it away.

“That would be dessert, you can wait.”

Not only did Taylor suck at picking out clothes for women, but he also didn’t understand the need to have sugar. And I happened to be one of those women addicted to it.

“If you value your balls and your life, you will hand that back over right now.”

His dark eyes widened and a smile lit up his rugged face. “And I say you’ll wait for it.”

Without warning, I lunged for him, being careful not to land in the actual food sitting in between us. Taylor flew back until he was lying on the ground, and he stretched his arms way above his head to keep the container away from me. But I’d landed on him, which meant I had the advantage here. And that cheesecake was mine.

I started crawling over him, but he just laughed and brought one of his arms down to restrain me. “Since when are you impatient?”

“Since you brought cheesecake, damn it!” If he didn’t release me soon, I was about to go full baby-mode and start making grabby hands toward the dessert; maybe I’d even cry. “Please!”

His rich laugh filled the room, and he barely grunted when I punched him in the side. I managed to wiggle my way a few more inches up his body and didn’t even notice his laughing had stopped; because at the same time, the arm around me stopped restraining me, and just simply held me.

Which meant I could make another grab for it.

I dug my knees into the concrete floor and pushed myself closer, and nearly cried in victory when my hand grabbed the cheesecake right out of the container and brought it to my mouth. I took a huge bite out of it and moaned before rolling off Taylor. Not caring to go back to my mattress, I stayed there, on my back, and finished my cheesecake.

It was so fucking delicious I wanted to cry.

Turning my head to the side, I smiled at Taylor, but the smile slid from my face when I noticed him watching me intently with those dark eyes.

“What?”

His eyes seemed to focus, and he shook his head and turned it to look at the ceiling. “Nothing, just didn’t know a simple piece of cheesecake would turn you into a crazed fiend looking for their next fix.”

“Hmm, next time, Ben and Jerry’s. It’s like water for me.”

“Ice cream”—he huffed a laugh and sat up—“got it. Now come back here and eat real food, or are you not hungry anymore?”

“Does it matter? I got what I wanted,” I said with a smile.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he said so softly that if I hadn’t been passing him to get back to the mattress, I wouldn’t have heard him.

I sat across from him, and like he always did, he waited for me to start eating before digging in himself. Other than a few jokes from him when he began eating his own slice of cheesecake, we’d eaten in silence. He’d had a faraway look all through the pasta, and even when we were both done and talking about nothing again, he kept averting his eyes from me. I was dying to ask what he was thinking, but I’d learned from Kash that if someone wanted you to know something, they’d tell you.

So I bit down on my tongue and let him continue to act like there wasn’t a weird charge between us that just thirty minutes before hadn’t been there.

When we got back that night from my evening trip to the bathroom and to take a shower, I’d crawled onto the mattress and grabbed for my journal.

“Can you keep the light on for a while? I want to finish writing.”

Taylor’s hand dropped from the light switch on the wall and he sat down in front of the door. “What is it you’re always writing?”

“Uh—”

“Do you write songs or poetry? Or do you just write?”

I knew he was trying to get rid of the awkward vibe we’d had between us the last couple hours, but this wasn’t something I was willing to share with him. “It’s kind of personal,” I said softly and glanced up to see if I’d offended him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that, I’ll let you get back to writing.”

“I . . . I just don’t usually talk about it.”

“You don’t have to explain, it’s—”

Suddenly the lights went out, and we both went silent. I heard Taylor stand up and the door open, but for the first time, no light filtered in from the hall. “Rachel, do not move. If anyone other than me walks in here, scream, you hear me?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” I put my journal back down and crawled to the back of the mattress. I was shaking, but it wasn’t in fear. Some part of me was imagining Kash and Mason cutting the power and coming to rescue me. It was ridiculous, and so silver screen . . . but I couldn’t help it. It had been twenty-two days since Taylor had brought me the journal, which meant I had been gone for over a month. After that amount of time, I was allowed to have silly fantasies of being rescued.

“Rachel, it’s me.”

I frowned when Taylor’s voice filled the room.

“There’s a really bad storm and the power is out, at least on this street.”

“Oh,” I said dejectedly.

“Come on, we’re gonna go to my room.”

My head snapped up, and I could make out the shape of his body in the doorway but nothing else. “What? Why?”

“Because this room needs power to lock, mine doesn’t. So come on, let’s go.”

I stood and walked the few steps over to where he was, and with my hand stretched out in front of me, waited until it bumped into him. He laughed and grabbed my wrist before towing me out of the room. We stopped in the kitchen and at a hall closet on our way there, picking up water, candles, and matches. And by the time we got to his room, I was practically sprinting into it and urging him to lock the doors. Something about being in those halls and not being able to see the other guys had chilled me to the bone, to the point that even after I was sitting on Taylor’s bed with my knees pulled up to my chest, I was still shaking.

Taylor went around the room, lighting enough candles so we could see, before using a flashlight app on his phone to check under the bed, in the closet, and the bathroom. I didn’t need to ask what he was doing; I knew he was checking to see if the others were in here with us.