“Mmm?” Mason groaned when he answered his phone.

“Get up, get over here . . . we need to go. I got info, Sunny just called me. I know where she is, man. Come on, let’s go.”

“Kash? The hell—do you know what time it is?”

I looked around me until I found the clock. Just as I started to apologize out of habit for calling him at three in the morning, I stopped and huffed. “Do you think I give a shit? She’s been gone for thirty-four days now! Who cares what time it is? My fiancée was snatched and I think I know where she is, so we need to get her back, you asshole!”

He grunted a couple of times like he was sitting up, and yawned. “I know, sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Kash, man, you know they’re not going to let you go anywhere without watching you. Wait, did you say Sunny called you? When?”

“I haven’t seen any units sitting on my house since the beginning of this. Do you know something I don’t?”

“They aren’t sitting. But there are a few in your district that are doing close patrol on you. They’re afraid with what’s happening, and your expertise in this, that you’re gonna do something bad.”

I laughed sadistically and got off the bed again to begin pacing. “Obviously they know me well.”

“Okay, now that I’m somewhat awake, start over. You said Sunny called?”

“Yes, Mason. He called and I’m ninety-nine percent positive that the location he gave me is where she is.”

“And why would you think that? Have you checked it yet?”

“No, we need to go check it!” I yelled. “Which is why I’m calling you to get your ass out of bed!”

“Tell me why you think she’s there.”

“Because apparently this is Juarez’s other house. His main house. Like main operation, home base, whatever the fuck you want to call it, and his orders from prison are for it to be locked down. No one other than his men are to get in or out.”

There were a few beats of silence before Mason asked, “When are we going in?”

“As soon as you get up.”

“We need to sit on it for a few days, we can’t just rush in.”

“I know. We will.”

“Patrol is going to notice if you don’t come home after work, it’ll raise flags. And we need to make appearances at the department so they don’t go calling us to see where we are.”

I thought for a second before responding. “Okay we’ll do all that, and I’ll ask my parents to come stay at the house so it looks like someone’s here. We’ll use your truck so mine stays out front. Now can we just start this already?”

“All right. Let’s do it, you know I’m in. I’d never let you go into anything alone, and I’d never let you try to save Rach without me.” He paused for a minute before quietly asking, “You don’t sound good, Kash. Like, you sound like you’re breaking. What’s going on?”

“Within a year’s time, I’ve walked in on a serial killer literally slicing Rachel’s arms, stomach, and chest. Before Blake had gotten his hands on her again, I’d watched as he tortured her psychologically. I watched how it drove her crazy and haunted her. Now with this? I’ve seen pictures of physical torture done to her by different men. We don’t know what is and isn’t legit, but that’s a moot point. Because once again, I can’t do a damn thing to stop whatever is happening to her.”

“Kash—”

“It is killing me to have her gone. It is killing me not to know what is happening to her. And though we know some of the evidence is false, it doesn’t change what I’ve seen in those pictures, on those videos, and heard on those recordings. I have watched and listened to my future wife go through hell, and I feel like it is literally killing a part of me with every passing day. And now she’s so fucking close, I’m shaking because it’s like she’s right there, right fucking there, and I’m about to lose it if I don’t do something about it right now. Understand? I feel like I have every right to not sound okay right now.”

“Okay, I understand. I just—I’m sorry. You’ve been so dead these last few weeks and now you sound like you’re on the verge of going on a killing spree— Oh . . . wait, never mind.”

“Yeah.”

“All right, I’m getting ready. Get some things together for overnights out at this place, and for work. And get your ‘oh-shit’ bag ready for when we do the takedown.”

“Call me when you’re on your way.”

I tossed my phone on the bed, let Trip outside, and hurried to get everything together.

Hold on, Rachel. I’m coming.

14

Rachel

THE STORM HADN’T LET UP AT ALL, and over the next two days, the power continued to go out. Only staying on for maybe fifteen minutes at a time, a few times a day. I was feeling desperate suddenly. I knew I needed to get out of there, but I had no idea what had come over me that morning that was terrifying me.

I’d spent hours after breakfast trying to convince Trent to get me out of there, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I know something bad is about to happen!” I hissed and grabbed onto his forearm before bringing his hand to my chest so he could feel my racing heart. “I won’t turn you in, Trent, I swear, but we need to get out of this place.”

“Rachel”—he pinned my shaking hands to the bed—“you’re just feeling anxious because the power has been off. You know we can’t get out of here.”

“No, I don’t know that!”

“Look, I want to get you away from here, you have to at least know that. And you heard Jaime the other night, because of what I’m doing for you, I’m out, do you understand what that means?”

“No—”

“It means, when Romero gets word of this, or gets out, I’m dead. Trust me when I say I want to get out of here just as much as you do. But you’re out of your goddamned mind if you think they don’t have men stationed at the exits!”

I flinched away from his harsh tone, and immediately one of his large hands cupped around the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him again.

“Shit, I’m sorry. We just can’t get out of here, okay?” When my eyes kept going down to my lap, he spoke gently. “Don’t be scared of me. I’m sorry for snapping at you. You have to understand that I would do anything to get you away from here, and it’s killing me that I can’t.”

I nodded and waited until my heart was going at a normal pace before asking more questions. “Who is Romero? Where is he getting out of? Is he in jail or something?”

“Rachel,” Trent said in a clear warning, but I didn’t stop.

“Why is he the one that decides if you’re ‘out’? Oh my God, are you in a gang, Trent? Are all of you in a gang?”

“Please stop asking questions,” he begged and stood quickly from the bed. Dragging his hands agitatedly through his hair, he blew out a heavy breath and began pacing.

“You are!” Oh my God, thank God. “He’s going to find me. He knows all the gangs in this area better than anyone. I know he’s going to find me.” I started chanting to myself, and for the first time in days, I had hope that Kash would come rescue me.

“Who is going to— Oh. No, Rachel, he . . . he’s not.”

It felt like my heart had dropped to my stomach as I forced out, “W-what . . . did you . . . you said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“And we haven’t,” he hissed and stalked back to the bed, bending over me enough that I fell back onto the pillows. “They stopped looking for you over a week ago. They all stopped looking for you.”

Fat tears began rolling down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying. “No, he wouldn’t. He can’t. He has to be looking for me . . . right?”

“Rachel.” He reached out for my cheek, but I smacked his arm back and turned away from him. “Please talk to me.”

But there was nothing for me to say to Trent anymore. He’d just confirmed everything I’d feared the other night. Kash probably thought I was dead. And the department, Mason, and Kash had all given up hope of finding me. A hollow feeling had filled me, and I’d wondered if this was what it felt like to give up on life.

Even when I’d been terrified, and afraid that I wouldn’t make it out of here alive, I’d always kept hope that Kash was coming to find me. And now that I knew he wasn’t, I felt my body succumb to the knowledge that I was gone from Kash for good. I hadn’t even felt that way when I’d been with Blake last year, or when Kash and I had broken up.

I was positive that being tortured by Blake was easier than dealing with that sense of loss.

Hours passed before Trent tried to get me out of his bed again. “Come on, we’re going into the kitchen, and you’re going to eat something.”

I didn’t respond.

“Rachel, let’s go. You didn’t eat lunch, and I’m not about to let you starve yourself. Get up.”

When I didn’t make any attempt at even moving, he lifted me out of the bed and walked me toward the door before setting me on my feet. He made sure I wasn’t about to fall over, and when he stood directly in front of me, he sighed heavily and pulled my body close to his. I stumbled over my feet and smacked into his chest but didn’t make a move to get away from it.

“He stopped looking for me. He thinks I’m dead,” I whispered into his chest.

Trent’s arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry.”

“I have—I have to do something. I have to let him know I’m alive.” A thought hit me, and the desperation I’d felt this morning came flooding back to me. I pushed away from Trent, and lunged for the workout equipment blocking the door.

“What are you doing? I’ll get that.”

“I have to get out of here! I have to find him, I have to let him know I’m alive!”