Sonofabitch. Victor Monroe knew he was between a rock—and a fucking deranged asshole named Ethan Barclay. He stomped out of the interrogation room. Ethan Barclay had been on the FBI’s radar for years—a slick piece of work who never left enough evidence behind to actually get charged with anything, though there were sure plenty of suspicions surrounding the guy.
And now, well, the FBI had him for two cases of assault. He’d attacked Curtis Thatch in front of a crowd. Though, to be honest, Victor didn’t exactly trust Thatch, not for a second.
But Ethan had made a double screw-up by coming at an FBI agent. There was no way the guy would be walking after that stunt. Victor’s superiors at the FBI were about to piss themselves, they were so happy. Only…
Zoe.
Her image flashed before his eyes. Zoe—with her long, dark hair, her green eyes, her sensual features…He’d made a deal with Zoe, and, even more importantly, with Zoe’s father, criminal kingpin Luther Bates. Luther would keep cooperating with the FBI under one condition—Zoe had to stay alive.
Fuck. Okay, so he could drop the charges against Ethan Barclay. No assaulting an officer charge. His superiors would freak, but they could still keep Ethan on the attack against Curtis Thatch. They could—
“Agent Monroe?”
He spun around. One of the younger FBI agents stared nervously at him.
“Problem, sir,” he said.
“I am not in the mood for any more problems.”
The guy swallowed. “Dr. Thatch just said he wasn’t pressing charges. That it was all some big mistake. He told me Barclay got confused after the bombing, and Thatch said he didn’t think the man meant to hurt him.”
Hell, yes, Barclay had meant to hurt him. If the FBI hadn’t arrived. Barclay would have pulverized the guy.
Victor tried to breathe deeply. Very deeply. “I want to talk with Carly Shay.”
“Yes, sir.” The red-haired agent almost saluted before he ran away. Victor rolled his eyes. New recruits were so freaking eager.
Carly could help to shed light on Ethan and just what the guy might do if he got out of that interrogation room. Victor suspected that Carly had been raped by Quincy Atkins. Her attack would sure explain Barclay’s rage toward the man—and toward Curtis. From the way Ethan watched Carly, Victor understood that the guy was in deep with Carly. Did he love her? Hell, Victor wasn’t even sure Ethan could love. But there was some kind of connection there. Maybe it was lust. Maybe it was obsession. Maybe it was some other twisted shit that he didn’t understand, but one thing was certain—Carly was Ethan’s link to sanity. Victor got that and if she could help them—
The agent ran back. His face was flushed. “She’s gone, sir.”
“No.” An immediate denial.
“She-she must have slipped out when we were dealing with Dr. Thatch.”
Victor rushed into his office. He’d left her in there so she would feel safe. He’d wanted to reassure her. But there was nothing reassuring about that empty office. He stalked around his desk. “Dammit!” Barclay wouldn’t cooperate at all when he learned she was gone. And with Curtis Thatch not pressing charges…
I am screwed.
Then he glanced down and saw that his top desk drawer was open, just a bit. His thundering heartbeat filled his ears as he slowly curled his fingers around that drawer and opened it fully.
His weapon was missing.
My weapon’s gone. Carly Shay is gone, and she knew where my weapon was stored. Fuck. And Curtis Thatch just walked out the door. Maybe Carly wasn’t the one keeping Ethan sane.
Maybe he was the one watching out for her. “Release Ethan Barclay,” he ordered. “Right the hell now.”
Chapter Seven
Ethan sauntered out of the interrogation room. Victor stood just a few feet away, glowering. “So glad to hear that this misunderstanding was cleared up,” Ethan said smoothly. “And I—”
“Curtis Thatch dropped the charges against you.” Victor’s eyes glinted as he delivered his news. “He left about twenty minutes ago, right around the same time that Carly Shay disappeared from the building.”
Oh, hell, no. Ethan steeled his expression. “If you’ll excuse me, I have pressing business to attend to…” He didn’t wait for a response but hurried toward the elevator. Carly was gone? And Thatch had just dropped the charges?
The elevator doors began to close on him, but, before they could seal completely, Victor surged inside the elevator.
Then the doors closed.
“I didn’t get to talk with Thatch. He dropped the charges while I was inside with your sorry ass,” Victor fired at him.
That means someone else got him to make a deal—Carly? What had she done to get Curtis to drop the charges? And where had she gone?
“Something else you should know,” Victor said. “I think Carly took my gun with her when she left.”
Fuck.
“Security checks when you come in this building and when you go out, but I’m guessing Carly is a woman with hidden talents, right? Getting a gun past security probably wouldn’t be too hard for her.”
No, it probably wouldn’t be. When she’d been a teen, he’d taught her far too many illegal tricks. Tricks that she would no doubt remember now.
The elevator dinged when it reached the floor. The doors slid open. Ethan advanced, but then Victor threw up an arm, stopping him. “Just so we’re clear,” Victor rasped. “If anything at all happens to Zoe Peters, I will destroy you.”
Ethan turned his head and met Victor’s stare. “I’m trying to help her.” He liked Zoe. She’d been dealt a terrible hand in life, a fate he understood all too well. They’d both grown up hard, and when he’d met Zoe, he’d recognized a fellow survivor. He’d learned later that Zoe had been running from her past. From the shadow of her deadly father.
Some shadows always followed you. No matter what you did to shake them.
“Now get the hell out of my way,” Ethan ordered. Because he had to find Carly. She was his priority.
And if she was out there, armed with a gun…
Curtis Thatch needed to be very afraid.
***
The diner was deserted. The lunch crowd had already come in and gone, so when Carly walked inside, it was easy to spot Curtis Thatch in the back booth.
He waved her over. Waved, as if they were having a perfectly normal meeting. She was still covered in ash and she smelled like fire. Carly was pretty sure she had plenty of scrapes lining her body and the guy was cheerily waving to her.
And she went to him. She slid into the booth and a waitress app
eared. The woman didn’t give Carly’s bedraggled appearance even a second glance. She took Carly’s coffee order and walked away.
I don’t have money to pay her. That thought froze Carly as she sat there and shame burned through her.
“It’s okay,” Curtis said, giving her a wan smile as if he’d just read her mind. “I’ve got this.”
She stared across that table at him. He was a lot smaller than his brother. An athletic build, not the hulking shape that Quincy had been. The eyes were the same, but the face was different, too. Softer. Handsome, in one of those non-threatening, easy ways.
Goosebumps rose onto her arms as she stared at him.
“I used to hate you,” Curtis said. Then he shook his head. “Wait, that’s not right. When I realized my brother had to be dead, I hated the person who had killed him.”
You’re looking at her.
His gaze swept over her face. “What did my brother do to you?”
She didn’t want to tell the story again. The wound just kept opening. But this man…maybe he should hear about the truth. “Quincy Atkins was a sadistic freak. I danced at his club. I was seventeen. Seventeen. I was desperate and I needed money to survive.”
She should have gone to Ethan. He would have helped her, but back then, he’d been struggling too. When Ethan found out what she’d been doing, he’d put a stop to it.
But it had been too late.
“Quincy got obsessed.”
Curtis glanced down at the table. “He…he did that. Found women that he wanted. Couldn’t let go.”
Women… “I was seventeen,” she whispered again. She couldn’t take her gaze off him right then.
Curtis slowly looked back up at her. “He attacked you.”
“I was going home. A car pulled up behind me—a van.” Just like that freaking van in the parking garage. “Men grabbed me. They tied me up. They took me to him.” She swallowed, battling those memories. “When he got obsessed with the others, did he do that to them, too?”
Curtis had paled. “I’m afraid now, that he did.” His voice had gone hoarse. “I’ve found out…other women were missing back then.”
Her chest iced. She’d always wondered…no, she’d always known, if she and Ethan hadn’t gotten away, they would have been dead.