The stairs down to the bedroom level were harder to negotiate and Rachel bumped and slid her way down them, landing in a heap at the bottom. She moaned with pain but didn’t stop moving. There was no time to lose. Crawling, she made her way along the hall to the door that led out of her apartment. The emergency door with the small hallway between it and the outside exit. With trembling fingers, she tapped in the code to open it. It took three attempts but, at last, the door gave way. She toppled through, and the door slammed behind her, locking automatically.
And that’s when Rachel crumpled, letting the darkness at the edge of her consciousness claim her. All the while, hoping Harvard would find her.
Rachel’s apartment was eerily silent as Harvard slipped inside. He signaled to Lake and Callum, and the three of them spread out to cover the room. They checked the kitchen and dining area, keeping their weapons up in front of them, missing nothing.
There was no sign that Rachel had even been there. Only the fact the concierge had seen her arrive with her cousin and hadn’t seen them leave made Harvard believe they were still inside.
“Garage is clear,” Ryan said through his earpiece. “Joe’s stationed at the front door. So far, no sign of Rachel or her cousin.”
“Stay in position,” Harvard whispered.
Lake cleared the room, and the men moved down the hall, checking off each room as they went. Soon, the only area left was the pool. As they flattened themselves against the walls on either side of the door, Harvard lifted his fingers and counted them down. On three, they moved.
They were through the door in seconds. Spreading out in standard formation, the men covered all angles and each other’s backs. There was no one in the room, but the tiles around the pool were soaked with water.
Lake made a low clicking sound and motioned at something lying on the floor. Cautiously, they crept forward to get a better look. Harvard’s heart slammed in his chest—it was Rachel’s handbag, its contents scattered over the tiles.
They spread out around the room, checking each area.
“Clear,” Callum whispered through their comm as he pointed to the changing room.
“Clear,” Lake murmured, indicating the bathroom.
Harvard moved silently, keeping his gun up as he checked behind the bar. Nothing. “Clear,” he reported. They had to be downstairs.
He turned toward the other men and started to signal for them to head out and downstairs when he caught sight of something in the pool.
No. Not something.
Someone.
With a roar, he lunged for the water. Only to be held back by Lake.
“It isn’t her.”
Harvard tried to shove him aside, but Callum appeared beside his partner, and both of them barred his way.
“It isn’t her,” Callum snapped. “It’s Samantha.”
Harvard took a deep breath as their words registered. “I’m okay,” he gritted out.
After taking a moment to make sure, they stepped aside. Harvard gazed over the edge of the pool, staying calm, as he was trained to do. Her blonde hair drifting around her, a woman lay face down, pinned to the glass bottom. They couldn’t make out what kept her from floating, but it was clear she was alone in the pool.
Blonde hair.
Yellow dress.
Samantha.
“Gun,” Callum barked from beside one of the loungers, pulling Harvard’s attention from the body. “It’s the one I gave Rachel.” Using the edge of his shirt, he picked it up and sniffed. “It’s just been fired.”
“Several times.” Lake pointed to the holes in the wall and ceiling.
“I told her to practice,” Callum said as he put the gun back where he’d found it. “But she never bloody listens.”
Harvard turned from the pool. “Downstairs,” he ordered, but the men were already moving.
“Stairs are wet,” Harvard said as he led them down to the lower floor. “She came this way.”
They moved steadily, sweeping the area with their weapons, barely making a sound. He signaled toward the master bedroom. With Lake and Callum at his back, he assumed breach position and entered the room. They came in behind him seamlessly, spreading out to cover the space and each other. Every room had to be cleared. They didn’t know if Samantha had acted alone.
Only once they were sure the room and master bath were clear, did Harvard look up at the pool. Samantha floated above them, her eyes wide and unseeing, her hair spread out around her. She had a gash on her head and a bruise on her cheek. So beautiful, yet so incredibly evil.
Lake grunted and pointed at Samantha’s dress. Tangled in the folds of her skirt was the ugly concrete gnome that usually sat beside the pool. It acted as an anchor, keeping her pinned to the bottom.
For a second, they just stared at the gnome and the woman who looked more like an ethereal mermaid than a rapist and would-be killer.
What a waste.
With a shake of his head, Harvard turned to his team. “Move out,” he ordered, and they moved, quickly clearing both guest rooms.
There was no sign of Rachel.
“Is there a panic room in this apartment?” Harvard asked Callum.
It was Lake who answered. “No.”
There damn well would be one in the house he’d share with Rachel, that was for sure.
Lake crouched and pressed his hand to the hall carpet. “Wet,” he said. “What’s behind that door?”
“An emergency exit, but I don’t have the code to access it.”
“Fortunately, we run the security in this building.” Lake touched his throat mic. “Joe, emergency override on Rachel’s lower floor exit.”
“On it,” came the reply.
A minute later, a buzz and a click signaled that the door was unlocked. Callum took backup position as Harvard held up his gun. As soon as Lake opened the door, Harvard was through it.
And he almost tripped over the woman he loved.
“Rachel!” Harvard tossed his gun into the corner and fell to his knees beside her. Pressing his fingers to her throat, he felt for a pulse. “She’s alive. Callum, we need an ambulance.”
“Already calling,” Callum said gruffly.
Harvard gently checked her body for breaks and wounds. His main concern was a gash to her forehead, but at least it had stopped bleeding. He only hoped the blow that caused it hadn’t given her a concussion. Apart from that, all he could see were bruises and scrapes. Gathering her into his arms, he sat with his back to the wall and waited for the ambulance.
“Drugged?” Lake asked.
“That seems to be Samantha’s MO,” Harvard said. “So, I’m guessing yeah.”
“Ryan,” Callum said into his mic, “collect all glasses from the pool room. We’ll need to take them to the hospital with us for drug testing.”
“You got it.”
“She’s going to be okay,” Callum said.
“Yeah.” Harvard brushed her hair out of her face. But it was no thanks to him. He’d left her vulnerable and missed all the signs that Samantha was a danger to her. He made a silent vow that it would never happen again.
“She’s safe now,” Lake said as though reading his mind.
“And she’s staying that way,” Harvard promised.