How dare someone just snatch her? Like she was a thing, not a person.
If she made it out of this, she would let Killian train her in all the ways he knew to kill someone.
If she made it out—her chest tightened painfully—she was going to fly to San Francisco and kiss Camden Morgan.
Her captor stepped aboard the plane. Saskia got the impression of cream leather and glossy wood.
She was dumped on a couch, and pinned there with a knee. She tried to shove the asshole off her, but he was too heavy.
“Put the other one over there,” the man grunted.
Saskia turned her head and saw the other guy dump an unconscious Addie in a chair. The woman was limp, her blonde hair tangled all over her face.
Saskia’s stomach clenched. The dancer reminded her a little of her best friend, Savannah, who was blonde, as well.
Would she ever see her friend again?
Yes, dammit.
She fought harder. She’d get herself and Addie out of this.
The man cursed, fumbling. Saskia turned her head and bit his calf through his trousers.
“Bitch.” He backhanded her in the face.
She cried out. Pressing her palm against her cheek, she slumped back. Her head ached and felt like it was filled with cotton wool.
The asshole kept her pinned, then she felt a prick at her neck.
“Let me go!” Her pulse leaped and skittered.
She saw him straighten, grinning. He held a syringe in his hand.
“No,” she whispered.
Lassitude flowed through her, like a slow-moving tide. She melted back against the leather, unable to hold herself up.
“It’ll be a more peaceful flight now,” the man mumbled.
There was the rumble of engines. Saskia’s awareness dimmed.
She slipped sideways, her cheek pressed to the cool leather.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Cam paced Vander’s office. Hours had passed.
There was still no word from New York.
Fuck. The edginess inside him made it hard to think. It was clawing at him, bombarding him with images of what might have happened to her. Maybe he should just book a flight and go to New York…
“Here.” Vander shoved a glass into Cam’s hand. “Drink it.”
Cam sipped the bourbon. It was Vander’s favorite—Eagle Rare 17. The stuff cost a fortune, but right now, it tasted like dirt. “If someone’s hurt her…”
“Let’s wait to hear from Wolf,” Vander said. “And you know better than to cook up every bad scenario.”
Cam gulped down the rest of the bourbon. The burn hit him.
And his resolve hardened.
He knew he shouldn’t imagine the worst. On missions, they’d focused on what resources they had and how to best utilize them. They planned contingencies, but always hoped for the best. But this was different to being in combat.
No. Whatever had happened, he wouldn’t stop until he found her.
“Hey.” Brynn Sullivan rushed in, her face was creased with concern. She must’ve come from the station, because she wore a dark pantsuit, blue shirt, and her detective badge clipped to her belt. His cousin came straight to Cam and hugged him. “Vander told me. We’re going to work out what the hell’s going on.”
Then Brynn moved to Vander. “Norcross.”
“Detective.” Vander slid an arm around Brynn, and pulled her in close. He dropped his mouth to hers.
Brynn leaned into Vander and kissed him back.
Cam watched the pair for a second. Their love was shiningly obvious. Vander had managed to come back from a long career in the military, several years of it spent as a legend in the secretive Ghost Ops teams. He’d built a business, and now fallen for a woman.
The moment seemed too intimate and Cam looked away.
Some guys managed it, others were too scarred.
Cam knew where he fell.
Like he’d told Vander, he wouldn’t inflict his shit on a woman.
The laptop on Vander’s desk chimed and Cam’s pulse spiked. He set the glass down and hurried over.
“Wolf, talk to us,” Vander said.
The rugged man on the screen looked grim. “She’s not at her apartment. No one’s seen her.”
Fuck. Cam flexed his hand.
“She was supposed to have a meeting with the dance director at her company late this afternoon,” Wolf continued. “She never showed.”
“We have to find her,” Cam said. “Something’s really wrong.”
Wolf’s frown deepened. “We’ll take it from here.”
No. Cam’s gut rebelled, and he ground his teeth together. A small growl escaped.
“Wolf, we want to be included,” Vander said. “Cam and Saskia talk. They’re friends. Don’t shut us out.”
Brynn cleared her throat, her gaze on Cam. “I suspect my cousin will be on the first plane to New York, ready to get in your face, if you don’t keep him in the loop.”
Wolf’s blue gaze flicked to Cam, like he was trying to get a read on him.
“Oh, come on, Wolf,” a sharp female voice said. “The more help we have, the sooner we find Saskia.” A small woman leaned in from the side, obstructing their view of Wolf. She had a small, fine-featured face, with short, black hair tipped with pale pink.
“Hello, Hex,” Vander said.
“Hello, dark, sexy drink of water.” The woman winked.
Wolf scowled at the woman’s pink hair.
Cam had heard this woman mentioned before. Jet “Hex” Adler was Sentinel’s version of Ace. Hacker, tech whiz, and keeper of all things electronic.
Brynn leaned closer to the screen. “Hi, Hex, I’m Brynn.”
“Oh, the woman who tamed Vander Norcross.” Hex smiled. “You’re famous, even on our side of the country.”
Cam saw Vander tip his gaze toward the ceiling.
“What have you got on Saskia?” Cam asked.
Hex’s pretty face turned serious. “I’ve been running a bunch of searches and tapping CCTV.”
“And I questioned her friends and fellow dancers,” Wolf said. “She had a private performance in Central Park this morning.”
“Saskia’s mentioned these things before,” Hex said. “Rich people pay loads for the dancers to attend private parties and events.”
“Did she make it to the show?” Cam asked.
“Yes,” Hex said. “I found a social media picture posted by another dancer. A friend of Saskia’s, Danielle Ingram. It’s of the two of them in costume in Central Park.”
Hex touched the screen of her heavy-duty tablet.
A picture flicked up on the laptop. Cam’s chest tightened.
She looked beautiful.
In the photo, Saskia’s makeup was heavier than normal, her lips painted brilliant red. Her hair was pulled back in a severe look, showcasing her stunning face.
Where was she?
“I’ve asked Hades to find Danielle,” Hex said. “He hasn’t reported in yet.”
“Hades?” Brynn asked.
“Matteo ‘Hades’ Mancini,” Wolf said. “He’s former DIA, Direzione Investigativa Antimafia, and Interpol.”
“Any more intel on this private performance?” Vander asked.
Hex pulled a face. “The marquee and caterer were hired by Lukom, Inc. The company is registered in the British Virgin Islands.”