“Three rooms?” Layne asked as he put the truck in neutral, set the brake and killed the ignition.

“Not good news, brother,” Merry answered and Layne’s neck got tight.

“What?”

“Wherever Tiffany went, she took her sister with her. She’s thirteen, Tanner.”

Jesus, Jesus, fuck.

He didn’t want to ask with Ryker at his side but he had to ask.

“Have the parties started?”

“Ryker with you?” Merry asked back.

“Yeah,” Layne answered.

“Then I’m not answering that question right now,” Merry replied.

Layne clenched his teeth and his chest seized. Alexis McGraw had been to his house. Ryker and Lissa sat with Layne and Rocky at the dining room table drinking beer and shooting the shit while Alexis and Seth, Keira and Jasper and Tripp and Giselle all lounged on the sectional, doing kid shit. Alexis was chock full of attitude, the good kind, though it had an edge, but underneath that, she was a sweet kid.

“You got eyes on her?” Layne asked.

Merry knew what Layne was asking. “Plainclothes everywhere, big man, but no one has seen Towers. Maybe she’s in one of the rooms. They’re scanning security footage now to see if she’s entered the hotel.”

“She’s somewhere. I have eyes on her car. A red Mazda, in the parking garage, not the hotel’s, across the street and just south. I’ve disabled the car. We’re on the third floor.”

“I’ll call that in.”

“Merry, she’s not getting away,” Layne warned.

“You make a mess, Tanner, I’ll clean it up,” Merry replied.

Layne heard the disconnect and flipped his phone closed.

“Tell me,” Ryker whispered and his tone was the tone of a man broken.

Layne’s eyes went to him.

“Don’t make me sorry you’re at my side,” Layne warned softly. Ryker stared at him and the air in the cab became suffocating. “I’ll blow this to take you out,” Layne whispered. “Do not mistake me, Ryker, I’ll do what I have to do to keep you safe so you can take care of her because, brother, she needs you now. Do not fuck this up.”

Ryker’s breathing started to get visibly heavy, his huge chest moving with it.

“I can’t lock this down, bro,” he whispered.

“Yes you can.”

“No, Tanner.”

“Focus, brother.”

“Lexie,” he whispered.

“Focus,” Layne clipped.

“I can’t.”

 “Be her hero, Ryker. Do not make her and her mother lose more than they’ve already lost today.”

They held eyes and Ryker kept breathing heavy.

“Deep, Ryker, breathe deep, not shallow, suck in air, lock it down,” Layne urged.

Ryker nodded and took in a deep breath, turned to face front, his eyes locked on the Mazda and his fists curled on his thighs.

Layne let out a breath, leaned over, pulled down the door to the glove compartment and yanked out his .38.

“She goes to the car, I go in, you call Merry. Cal provides cover. You’re last resort. You got that?”

“What if she isn’t alone?”

“Then you provide cover too, you got your .45?” he asked even though he knew. Ryker didn’t go anywhere without his .45.

Ryker leaned forward and yanked out his .45. Then he nodded to Layne.

“This is not a shoot first and ask questions later, deal, Ryker. We are not officers of the law. We’re skatin’ on thin ice here, only so much Merry can cover for us. This is an incapacitate and incarcerate deal, yeah?” Layne ordered.

Ryker nodded again.

Layne called Cal.

“Yo,” Cal answered. “I’m guessin’ the Mazda is important.”

“It’s hers. You got eyes on it?”

“Yep.”

“She approaches, I go in, you and Ryker are cover. Do you have a gun or do you need me to get you one?”

“My wife was kidnapped and nearly shot in the head, man. I got guns everywhere.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Good call since it was a yes.”

“Right, we’re done,” Layne stated and flipped his phone closed.

Then he reached up, turned off the interior cab light, pulled the keys out of the ignition, tossed them to Ryker who caught them and his eyes went to the door to the stairs.

Layne was right, she felt the heat. They didn’t wait five minutes before the door to the stairs opened and Nicolette Towers showed, wearing sick fuck, underage gang rape party hostess gear of fancy-ass dress and spike heels, her hair out to there, her face made up to perfection. She had a bodyguard but, thank Christ, only one.

Ryker flipped open his phone and Layne didn’t look at him. He opened his door, slid around it, didn’t close it and then ran quickly and silently, moving behind parked vehicles, keeping his eyes on Towers and her goon.

They were walking swiftly but engaged in intense conversation which was a mistake. At least the bodyguard should be vigilant. They must have clocked the intensity of the operation gearing up inside the hotel. She looked pissed. He looked tweaked.

Layne slid up the side of a Pathfinder, positioning at the hood. They were walking toward him. He bent with his body behind the vehicle, his gun aimed, arms resting on the hood.

“Hands where I can see them,” he barked when they were two cars away from the Mazda.

The goon didn’t hesitate. He yanked a weapon out of his shoulder holster and started firing. Towers dashed to the Mazda.

Bullets slammed into the Pathfinder and ricocheted off, Layne returned fire almost blind then ducked. More fire coming his way but also from Cal shooting from the opposite direction.

The Pathfinder stopped taking hits and Layne bolted up, the goon was turned, returning Cal’s fire. Layne aimed and fired, connected a bullet to his calf and the guy went down to his knee. Cal kept shooting and more gunfire entered play. Ryker had made his call and was in the game.

The Mazda reversed out of the spot, Towers cutting the wheel, riding the rims. She either didn’t know or didn’t care her man was down behind her because the Mazda slammed right into him. Layne wasn’t in the position to see how she got him but he heard his howl of agony. She shifted into first and Layne moved out of cover, hunkered down and launched himself on the hood of her car.

Finding purchase on the lip of the hood by the windshield with one hand, his belly to the metal, their eyes locked.

She cut the wheel and Layne’s body went sliding, she slammed into a car and skidded through it and the next, still moving.

Then she cut the wheel the other way to make the turn through the garage, the Mazda nearly uncontrollable, riding on rims and Layne’s body flew with the car and his hold slipped but held at his top knuckles.

She righted the car and he lifted his gun, taking aim at her shoulder.

He pulled the trigger just as she cut the wheel again, his shot went wide and so did his body. He was losing his grip, he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. They skimmed down cars, metal against metal, sparks flying around his legs. Layne heaved himself back to full on the hood, raised the gun and took aim when he heard sirens.

She cut the other way but Layne got off two shots through the windscreen then let go, rolling with the movement of the car, he lucked out and rolled straight onto the hood of another vehicle rather than crashing to the ground and getting caught under her tires or smashed between the Mazda and another car.

He rolled up the windscreen then down to his back. He did an ab curl just in time to see Towers drive through two empty spots, slam into the side of a car and stop.

Layne slid off the car and dropped to his feet, on the run the minute they touched the ground.

She threw open her door and fell out, crawling. He lifted his gun, took aim and shouted, “Freeze!”

She rolled to her back, lifting a .22 in his direction, blood staining the front of her dress.

Ryker came in from the right, shoving his big body though the opening, he dropped down between floors, his tree trunk legs took the impact then he was up and he trained his .45 on her.

“Give me a reason,” he growled.

Cal pounded up behind Layne then slowed, gun drawn, aimed, head cocked to the sight, he inched forward beside Layne.

Her eyes circled the men then her hand dropped, not that she was giving up, she couldn’t hold it up anymore. Layne knew this because her body dropped too, flat on her back on the pavement of a parking garage. A bubble of blood escaped her lips and then slid down the side of her mouth.

They all approached slowly except Ryker who got there quick and kicked her gun out of her hand.

She was audibly wheezing then the blood gurgled in her throat.

Ryker crouched beside her and Layne and Cal tensed.

“Brother,” Layne whispered as units came skidding around the parking garage, screeching to a halt, sirens blaring, lights flashing.

There was a lot of noise but, even so, Layne could hear as Ryker pulled the phlegm up his throat.

Then he bent and spit, the slimy, yellow hocker hitting her smack on the cheekbone, splashing into her eye.

“Cunt,” he hissed then straightened.

“Stand down,” a uniform ordered and all eyes moved to the advancing cops.

Layne dropped his gun hand, so did Cal. Ryker shoved his in his back waistband.

The cops must have got a head’s up from Merry. They immediately lost interest in Layne, Cal and Ryker and trained their guns on Towers.

“Shit,” Cal growled slow and Layne looked to him to see he was looking at Layne. Then he smiled just as slow. “You are one crazy motherfucker. Fuck me, you jumped on her car, man.”

Ryker strolled close, his eyes locked on Layne.