Take Me Deeper (22 page)

Her mouth went soft and trembled a little. “I know,” she murmured. “And Mom should have chosen me. But she didn't.”

There was a note of pain in her voice that reached inside him, wrapped around his heart, and pulled tight. And he felt something inside him echo in response.

She knew. She understood. They'd both felt the same hurt as someone who was supposed to love them unconditionally turned and walked away. Chose something or someone else.

Understanding didn't change anything. It didn't change what had happened to them, because nothing would. But somehow, for some reason, it made it feel just a little bit lighter.

Zane turned his hand, closed his fingers around hers, then lifted them, kissing the tips, warming them with his mouth. “I choose you, Iris.” He looked straight down into her dark brown eyes, ignoring the voice in his head that told him he should be putting her at a distance, not drawing her closer. “Right now, right here, I choose you.”

Something bright flashed across her face, a fierce emotion he couldn't quite decipher. Then her lashes fell, as if she wanted to hide whatever it had been from him, pulling her hand away and rising on her toes instead, pressing a hard kiss against his mouth.

He wanted to hold her there, lose himself in her, explore this new understanding between them, but he couldn't. Not when he had this cartel business to deal with. So when she ended the kiss, he let her.

“I have to go out and get a few things for tonight,” he said. “You'll be okay here?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you going?”

“I need a bit more firepower than I have.” He was going to swing by Lone Star, take a look over the weapons that Quinn kept in a gun safe in the basement. He had a Glock that he preferred to use, but it wouldn't hurt to have something else, just in case. Plus, he needed more ammo.

“Oh, okay. Well…” She looked at the cake, then glanced over at the nightstand where the burger he'd also ordered was sitting. “You've ordered so much food I'm not going to be hungry for tonight.”

“Eating isn't exactly going to be the point of tonight.”

A flicker of what he thought was fear showed briefly in her eyes, then it was gone. “No, I guess not.”

His protectiveness rose, even more fierce now, even more intense. “Not going to let them hurt you, baby.” Threading his fingers through hers, he held on tight. “No one's going to touch a hair on your head.”

She gave a sigh, tightening her hold on him for a second. “Have…you killed people, Zane?”

The question took him by surprise. Curious, he studied her. “Why do you ask?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I just…want to know.”

“Yes.” There was no reason to lie, no reason to hide it. “I'm a soldier. That's what I signed on for. It's part of the job.” He'd never had any problem with that. Hell, in order to do his job properly, he couldn't. “And sometimes protecting people means taking the lives of others who would hurt them.”

“So…” She paused again. “You wouldn't hesitate to shoot?”

“No. I'm a sniper and I never miss a shot.”

Her eyes went wide. “A sniper? Wow. So you've probably taken out lots of guys then?”

“Taking out a select few preserves the lives of many.” Maybe it was trite, but it was a logic he could get on board with. “I mean, I don't like taking lives, no one does. But war is war. People die.”

“Okay. Good to know.”

His thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. “Why?”

“I just…” She stopped. “Zane, if things don't go well, I want to know Jamie will be safe.”

He stopped stroking, gripping her fingers instead. “What do you mean ‘if things don't go well'?”

“I mean if something happens to me, I want you to protect her.” Iris had gone pale, the look on her face deadly serious.

No. Nothing would happen to her because he wouldn't let it. He just fucking wouldn't. “You are going to be fine,” he said fiercely. “I'll kill anyone and I mean
anyone
who even thinks about—”

“Promise me, Zane,” she interrupted, just as fierce, squeezing his fingers together with surprising strength. “Please. If I'm gone, she'll have no one. And I don't want to leave her alone, not like Mom left me.”

But no, the tight, squeezed feeling wasn't coming from his fingers, it was coming from his chest. In the vicinity of his heart.

This was a woman who loved fiercely, loyally.

This was a woman who would always choose the people she loved.

In that moment he knew he would promise her anything.

So he held her hands and said, “Of course. I'll protect her with my life.”

After Zane left the hotel room, Iris pulled on her jeans and her sole remaining clean T-shirt. She wasn't looking forward to tonight, no matter that it was a step to getting Jamie back, but she kind of wished she had something else to wear. A nice dress or something that Zane might like.

Stupid really, to want to dress to please a man. She'd never felt the urge in her entire life before, especially since this dinner wasn't even a date. And no doubt jeans and a T-shirt would be better when it came to running and hiding. But still, she wished she had a nice dress, something sexy that would make those amazing blue eyes of his pop out of his head.

Especially after what he'd told her about his father. No wonder he was so angry. The one person in his life he should have been able to count on hadn't been there for him, and he should have. Like her mom should have been there for her.

Both of them had been abandoned by a parent and it sucked.

So yeah, she wanted to do something to please him. To make him forget all the people he hadn't been able to save, just for a little while.

Standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, she grimaced at her reflection. She'd brushed her hair so that it lay sleek and black over her shoulders, and the red T-shirt she wore didn't have any stains on it at least. And it was tight. But her jeans had holes and her sneakers…yeah, they weren't looking so good.

She had some cheap makeup: a nearly empty bottle of foundation, some mascara that flaked a lot, a couple of eye shadows that had crumbled in their boxes, and one tube of red lipstick that was almost gone. Nothing even worth using in other words. Still, she put on a bit of the foundation and the mascara, made an effort with the lipstick so she looked presentable at least.

Her heart had begun thumping fast, fear sitting in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't going to be easy to walk straight into the lion's den, but she would have walked through a burning building naked if it meant getting her record cleared and Jamie back where she belonged. With her.

She could do this. And she would.

What about Zane? What's going to happen with him?

Iris tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave it one last smooth, ignoring the tight feeling in her chest. Nothing was going to happen with Zane. That tight feeling was only gratitude that he'd promised to watch out for Jamie if anything happened to her. And the hard little kick her heart had given when he'd told her he chose her, well, perhaps that was gratitude too. Because that meant he'd become a friend, someone she could count on.

It didn't mean anything else. At all. It couldn't, not when she had too many other things on her plate right now. She didn't need a man complicating things.

Sure, tell yourself that, Callahan. If it'll make you feel better. You want to choose him too, don't deny it.

Right at that moment, someone knocked on the door, helpfully derailing that particular train of thought.

Turning from the mirror, Iris went over to the door and peered through the peephole. A man in a hotel uniform stood outside.

“Do you want the tray?” she called through the door. “If so, I haven't finished with it yet. I'll leave it outside in fifteen minutes.”

“I don't want the tray, Iris Callahan. I want to talk to you.”

She froze. “What?”

“If you want to see your sister alive again, you'll open the door and let me in.”

Every single cell in her body iced over. That was not a hotel employee on the other side of the door. That was a cartel member. And they'd found her, they'd goddamn well found her.

Forcing the terror aside, she made herself focus on what he'd said. Jamie. He'd mentioned Jamie. “You haven't got my sister,” she said, staring furiously at the door, the only thing that was keeping her safe. “I know. I checked. She's fine.”

“But not for much longer.” The man's voice was muffled, but still she could hear the cold certainty in it. “She's at school right now, playing in the playground. And if you don't open this door right now, armed men are going to head into that playground and take her. I'm sure you don't want that to happen.”

No. He was bluffing. He
had
to be. “I don't believe you.”

There was a pause. Then the man said, “Look at the peephole.”

She didn't want to, because something told her it was going to be bad, but she made herself, her gaze narrowing when the man held the screen of his phone up to where she could see it.

And the ice froze her all the way through.

It looked like a video playing on the screen, the camera aimed at a school playground, the kids laughing and shouting beyond a chain-link fence. Jamie's school, she could see the sign.

Then, as she watched, her heart a lead weight in her chest, the camera tilted and a man's face came into view. He wasn't anyone she knew, but he had a scarf over his lower face and when he lifted his hand to wave, there was a gun in it and a watch on his wrist. A watch that showed the date and time.

It wasn't a video. It was happening right now. And if she didn't open the door, that man with the gun would head into the playground and…

Oh God. Oh, please God, no.

“Now do you believe me?” the man outside asked. “Open the fucking door, bitch. You have five seconds.”

She had no choice. None. She had to do what he said.

Her hands were icy as she turned the handle and opened it, stepping back as the man on the other side quickly moved inside, his hand reaching behind him as the door slammed shut.

“Good decision,” he said, pulling out a handgun.

“What do you want?” Her lips felt numb, everything felt numb, except for the terror churning in her gut. “If you're going to kill me, just kill me.”

“In a hurry, huh? There's time for that, don't you worry.” The man crossed over to her and grabbed her arm, pushing the muzzle of the gun into her side. “But Mr. Shaw wants a word with you first.”

Oh, fuck. Shaw. The guy she'd given Dylan's packages to. The biggest, most unscrupulous asshole in the entire state, if not the whole damn country. Shaw wouldn't give her a clean, quick death with a bullet in the back of her head. He'd want to make her pay. Use her to set an example.

A shiver went through her, the ice freezing the marrow of her bones.

No. No, she couldn't give in to the fear. Zane would find her before that happened. She had to believe that, otherwise there'd be no reason to fight. He would find her and he would find Jamie and it was all going to be okay. It
had
to be.

“Great,” she said, trying not to sound as terrified as she felt. “ 'Cause I'd love to say hi.”

The man shoved the muzzle harder against her side. “Sorry if you were expecting a nice dinner out, but Mr. Shaw doesn't do deals, still less with fucking Redmonds.”

Shit. So obviously Shaw had decided to act early rather than wait for the meeting at the restaurant tonight. Why? Had he found out about Zane's plan?

She tried to act innocent. “W-what do you mean ‘deals'?”

“Aw, were you thinking Redmond was protecting you? Taking you out on a nice date?” The man's voice was snide. “Stupid bitch. He was gonna do us a deal. Trade you at the restaurant for some cold, hard cash. But Mr. Shaw doesn't pay for anything he doesn't want to, and you're not worth paying for.”

It felt like someone had shut her lungs in a vise and was slowly winding it tighter and tighter. She had to force herself to breathe. “Well, he's either got a lot of guts to come into a five-star hotel to get me or he hasn't got many brains. I'm going with no brains.”

The man laughed. “And yet you're gonna walk out of here with me, nice and slow. Say a word or make any funny moves and your sweet little baby sis is gonna find out the boogeyman is real. And you don't want that, do you?”

She shut her eyes briefly, trying to ignore the sense of powerlessness that curled tight in her heart. “N-no.”

“No,” he echoed. “Of course you don't. So what are you waiting for? Fucking move.”

She took a step, then stopped short, realizing abruptly that if she left like this, there would be no way for Zane to find her. How could she let him know? Would he even realize when he came back and found her missing that it was the cartel? Or would he think she'd just taken off?

“You'd better get rid of my phone,” she said before she could second-guess herself. “They can track it, you know.”

The guy snorted, but she felt him pull her phone out and toss it carelessly onto the floor. Good. Hopefully Zane would assume she wouldn't just take off and leave her phone behind, which should give him a heads-up that something had happened to her.

Of course, that would leave him with nothing to track her with.

“Move,” the man growled, shoving her harder.

You're just going to have to trust that he'll find you.

Iris swallowed down the gasp of pain at the jab of the muzzle against her side. Then forced herself to take a step. Then another. Moving slowly toward the door.

Trust. That's all she had. There was no other choice.

She only hoped it would be enough.

An hour and a half after he'd left Iris, one semi-automatic and one rifle later, Zane swiped his card to unlock the hotel room door, stepping into the suite and coming to a dead stop, his soldier's instincts suddenly on high alert for no apparent reason that he could see.

He waited a moment, listening.

There was no sound, none at all, and there should be, since Iris was supposed to still be here.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed his Glock, systematically working his way through the suite, trying to find her. But there was no one there. The suite was empty.

Coming back into the living room, he ignored the fist that had closed around his heart, his brain instantly kicking into battle mode.

Where the fuck was she? She knew she wasn't supposed to leave the suite, and he couldn't imagine her being stupid enough to do so unless there had been an emergency of some kind.

Or unless she took off.

No, she wouldn't do that. Not without telling him or giving him at least some kind of goodbye. Not after everything that had happened between them. She just…wouldn't. Would she?

Then his gaze caught on something lying on the floor.

Iris's phone.

And he went cold. Because there was only one reason he could think of that she would leave without taking her phone.

The cartel had either discovered that the meeting tonight was a trap, or they'd decided they didn't want to wait. Whichever it was, they'd moved early. They'd found Iris. And they'd taken her.

Something ignited inside him, something hot, something that sent a red haze over his vision. But he ignored it. He couldn't afford any kind of worry, any kind of fury, any sort of emotion at all. That wouldn't help and it wouldn't find Iris.

You have to find her. You have to protect her. If she's not dead already.

The hot thing inside him twisted, sheeting higher, like flames in a strong wind. But again, he ignored it. He didn't have time to figure out how they'd managed to get into the suite without signs of a struggle, or wonder about how they'd found her in the first place. This was now a mission where every second counted. Turning for the door, he went out, grabbing his phone from his pocket and punching in Quinn's number as he strode down the hallway.

“They've got her,” he said as soon as Quinn answered. “I just got to the hotel and she's gone.”

Quinn cursed. “She couldn't have checked out on her own?”

“No. Her phone was lying on the floor. She wouldn't have left without it.”

“Christ. You told her not to let anyone in, didn't you?”

“Of course I fucking did.” He stopped in front of the elevators and hit the button. “But how it happened is irrelevant. She's gone. That's what matters now.”

“You sound very calm about that.”

“Getting upset doesn't help anyone.” In fact, he felt cold, calm, a wall between him and the heat of his own desperate rage. He would find her. He would find Iris. Nothing would stop him. And nothing in the entire fucking universe was going to prevent him from doling out retribution if she'd been harmed in any way. “We need to find her and we need to do it as quickly as possible.”

“Fuck.” The word was flat, uninflected. Sounded like his brother had gone into battle mode too. “Okay, I'll get Rush to see if he can get anything else out of the guy who told us about the restaurant. Like a possible location they may have taken her to.”

“I'm going to need it as soon as possible,” Zane said as the elevator chimed and the doors opened. “I was gone an hour and a half so that's at least the lead time they have on us.” He stepped into the mercifully empty elevator car and hit the button that would take him to street level.

“I'll tell Rush we need to hurry.”

“Tell Rush to get that info by any means necessary.” He made no effort to temper the edge of command in his voice. “And see what other contacts you can hit up for intel. The sheriff, Duchess. Any previous skips. I don't care who or how you get the information, I want it ASAP.” And Quinn better not argue with him about this, not if he liked his balls hanging where they were.

But Quinn didn't protest. Instead he asked, “You're going after her now?”

“Is that even a question?”

Quinn ignored him. “You're not handling this by yourself, Zane. Got it? Get back to the office and we'll talk strategy.”

Of course Quinn would try and take charge. Of course the first thing he'd worry about wasn't the woman who was actually in danger. “No,” Zane said flatly as the elevator doors opened again. “The only place I'm going is wherever the fuck they've taken Iris.”