Chapter Eight
Logan Quinn rode up the elevator in the elegant D.C. hotel. Music played softly in the elevator’s interior. A classic piece that he figured belonged to one of the old masters. His wife loved that kind of music.
He wasn’t such a fan. Give him some hard and driving rock any day of the week.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Finally, he was able to escape from that music. The lush carpeting muffled his footsteps as he headed down the corridor. Genevieve Chevalier was in room 619. He’d agreed to take guard duty for Genevieve because he knew that Gunner wanted to stay close to Sydney.
He could relate. Logan sure wished his Julie wasn’t so far away. He’d much rather be with her on the quiet beach in Biloxi than in—
Genevieve’s door was ajar, and he could see the telltale red of blood on the beige carpet.
Logan pulled his gun and rushed into the room. “Genevieve!”
A chair was overturned. Bedcovers—bloody covers—were scattered on the floor.
He searched the room swiftly, checking the closet, the bathroom, but Genevieve was gone.
He yanked out his phone. “I was too late,” he told Gunner as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Guarding Genevieve had been a precaution more than anything else. A move just in case that last attack on Sydney had been related to Ian Gagnon.
This wasn’t about precautions anymore.
Because it sure appeared as if the Executioner was coming back from the grave in order to keep stalking his victims.
Logan spun away from the scene and headed back into the hallway. That faint blood trail might help them. It might lead them to Genevieve. “Get me an analysis unit out here,” he said. “As fast as you can.” Every moment that passed put his team at a disadvantage on this hunt.
He could hear Gunner barking orders to the men at the EOD headquarters.
“We’ve got blood at the scene,” Logan said grimly.
Blood and no victim.
So much for leaving the nightmare back in Rio. Genevieve had cheated death once. Would
she be able to do it again?
I hope so. Hang on, Genevieve. We’ll find you.
He just hoped they found her alive.
* * *
CASSIDY JUMPED WHEN she heard the loud banging at the front door. She’d just finished dressing, and she hurried out of the bedroom.
Cale was already at the door. Already swinging it open to reveal—
Mercer and Gunner.
Cassidy’s breath caught. The men hadn’t called them. They’d just shown up at the safe house.
She knew that wasn’t a good sign.
Then Mercer’s eyes met hers. “It’s time to go, Cassidy.”
How many times had he said those same words to her? Over and over in her life?
It’s time to go, Cassidy.
At her mother’s grave, when Cassidy had stood there, feeling so broken and alone. He’d pulled her away, despite her tears and pleas.