Keith tried her cell one more time. As it had the last fifteen times, it went right to voice mail. In the past hour, he'd called every single one of her friends. Darcy and Layla had joined Donna and Mario at his house. They were stationed there in case Kat showed up.

n.o.body had seen or heard from her in four hours.

Dustin entered the large, open office area, stopping to speak with Chief Alder. Keith crossed the room, his long strides eating the distance.

"What did you find?"

Dustin shook his head. "She entered the parking garage alone, got in her car, and left. I found footage of her getting on I-75 heading south. That's all."

Rage clouded his vision red. Keith saw nothing but that and the blazing blue of Dustin's irises. He grabbed his friend by the shirt with the intention of shoving him against the wall behind him, but Dustin's reflexes were every bit as fast. He countered Keith's move. Arms threaded underneath his, and he felt Malcolm pulling him backward.

"Easy, buddy. Losing it on Dustin won't bring her back. Save it for the motherf.u.c.ker who took her."

Chief Alder straightened the jacket of her power suit. She held her head high and ignored Keith's display of emotion. "Gentlemen, I just got word that her cell records have arrived. Your efforts might be better served looking at those."

__________.

Katrina opened her eyes, but she couldn't see much. Faint light filtered through a grating in the wall. She guessed it was a vent of some kind. Her head felt worse than it did when her nephews "played" the piano at her parents' house for two hours straight.

She tried to move, but her arms and legs were stuck. The floor beneath her cheek was cold and hard. It smelled like grease and dirt. Panic stole her focus for a minute as she struggled against her bonds. Using the techniques Keith had taught her, she breathed until she had herself back under control.

The last thing she remembered was Aaron's smile. He'd been dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt that brought out the mossy green of his eyes. It had thrown her off to see him dressed so casually. Even when they got together outside of work, he always wore khakis and a b.u.t.ton-down shirt.

The tenseness she'd heard in his voice during their hurried phone conversation didn't seem to be present in his relaxed stance. He'd held out his hand, as if he wanted to give her a hug. His smile had been tinged with regret and sadness.

Three steps from him, the world had gone black. Judging from the pain in her head, someone had hit her hard enough to knock her out. She probably had a concussion. This confirmed her worst suspicion and made her realize that Keith or Dustin would have been right to halt her plan. In retrospect, it hadn't been a good one.

It made sense, now that she was forced to stop rationalizing Aaron's intentions. In various circ.u.mstances, he'd enjoyed access to her things. It would be a small matter to copy her keys during lunch when she'd excused herself to use the restroom.

And he'd been in the perfect position to hear about all the security precautions Malcolm and Keith had installed at her house. When he'd visited her, he would have had time to discern the location of each camera, find their blind spots, and move them. She had no doubt that he'd broken into her apartment.

The back of a liquor store on the corner of Inkster and Eureka seemed like an out-of-the-way meeting place, but Katrina knew someone living nearby. Of course, Katrina didn't know how much she could trust...

Voices carried through the grating, intruding on her thoughts. She'd never imagined that this farce would go this far. She'd meant to trap the person setting up her and Aaron. In a million years, she wouldn't have thought him capable of arranging for her to be kidnapped. It seemed she really hadn't known him at all. She concentrated to try to make out the words she was hearing, but that only caused her head to throb harder. Breathing helped. It didn't banish the pain, but it reminded her that Keith, Malcolm, and probably half the FBI were out there, searching for her.

She'd left a trail. They were clever enough to find it.

"Move a shipment next month. We got orders from Lansing all the way to Tampa." The speaker was male. His voice vibrated through the air.

He was answered by another male. This one's voice was higher pitched, though still masculine. "We need merchandise. Snyder's arrest put a serious cramp in that side of the business. We gotta get it going again. It brings in more money than guns, and it's a h.e.l.l of a lot easier to procure."

The two men chuckled for a moment. Then papers rustled.

The first voice spoke. "b.u.t.termore better come through for us."

"If not, I have a plan for his lady friend. That's one we can't afford to have traced back to us."

Higher Voice grunted in agreement. "Did my homework. b.i.t.c.h has connections to the Fed who took down Vic. Getting rid of her will win us big points with the boss."

Katrina realized that her kidnappers were not only working with Aaron, they were part of the larger Snyder syndicate the FBI had theorized existed. Now she had evidence of the connection. If only she could get free.

__________.

"She went to meet your mother."

Keith looked up from the list of numbers in his hand, evidence from the fastest cell phone dump in bureau history.

Malcolm fingered a sticky note. "I found this underneath her laptop. Good thing I picked it up to move it."

The small, yellow paper contained a clear message: Starr R. Ink and Eur. There was no telling how old it was. Katrina had been researching his family in order to find information about his niece and nephew.

Keith tapped the list in front of him. "The last call she made was to Starr Rossetti, whose last known address is in a trailer park near Inkster and Eureka."

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at Keith. "You think your mom is involved?"

Keith shook his head and stood up. He grabbed his jacket and checked for his guns. "Starr isn't that deep or intelligent. She doesn't have an interest in committing crimes on purpose, just in staying drunk. I don't know why Katrina called her, but I'm going to find out."

Running a hand through his hair in an anxious gesture, Malcolm rose to his feet. "You think your mom is still trying to make some kind of deal with her concerning your sister's kids?"

"Don't know. I wouldn't put it past her. She's a stubborn b.i.t.c.h, even when she's wasted." The pair headed for the elevator. Keith pressed the b.u.t.ton.

"Well, you get it from somewhere." Mal delivered the joke with a grimace, and Keith knew his heart wasn't in it. Both of them were desperate to find Kat.

They stepped into the elevator. The doors shut them in that tiny steel room. Keith closed his eyes and, for the first time in his life, prayed to whatever deities were out there.

"We'll find her." Malcolm put a rea.s.suring hand on Keith's shoulder.

Keith stared at his best friend's hand. Mal's olive skin was the exact same shade as Kat's. "I kissed Kat when she turned eighteen. I was drunk at the time. I was always drunk. It kept me numb, and that's how I needed to be. But she made me feel. She made me realize that I could handle some emotions. She made me want to be sober. I think I've always been in love with her."

Malcolm stared at him. Keith expected his hand to drop away, or for Mal to punch him-something violent and retaliatory. Instead, Mal squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "My sister is pretty d.a.m.n special."

"I'm going to marry her."

Mal nodded. "I know."

"First I'm going to kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who took her."

Mal's lips thinned into a grim slash. "I got your back."

He didn't mention that she'd definitely earned a punishment for this. He couldn't even envision punishing her when all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms. The punishment might involve being chained to him at all times. He'd think about it later, when he had her back with him, safe and sound.

The elevator doors opened to reveal Dustin. He leveled a stoic stare at them as he stepped back to let them exit the car. "I was just coming up to see you."

Keith ignored Dustin. Standing next to him was a woman who had a lot of explaining to do. "Mom. Where the h.e.l.l is Kat?"

She looked like h.e.l.l, and that was saying a lot. Her gray-streaked blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Half the strands hung free, as if she'd forgotten it was up, and she'd run her fingers through it repeatedly. Ghosts showed in her sunken eyes, and she smelled like a cigarette factory had exploded in her mouth. She shook so hard it was a wonder she was still on her feet.

She darted forward and gripped his jacket. Fear deepened the lines around her mouth and eyes. "Keith, they took her. She called me, said she wanted to talk about them kids. I was waiting out back, like she told me to, and they took her."

Hope surged through Keith's body. Kat hadn't disappeared without a trace. "Who? Mom, think. I need to know exactly what you saw."

She bit her lip. "First I need a promise from you."

"I'll get you a drink as soon as you tell me what you know." He'd gladly give her a lifetime supply of vodka and wine if she could help him find Kat.

"No. I want you to promise to see Savannah's kids. You're the only kid I got who ain't drunk or in jail. You take care of them. You make sure they're okay."

He'd do anything to get Kat back. "I promise." He pushed his mother away from the elevator and deposited her in an alcove. Dustin and Malcolm stood behind him, both of them poised to act on any new information.

Starr nodded. "I took pictures."

__________.

Katrina worked the ropes binding her arms behind her. It took some time, but she was able to loosen them enough to slip one hand free. These men either didn't have much experience with knots and rigging, or they didn't come across people who tried to escape them.

The reasons a captive might not try to escape were ones Katrina didn't want to consider. She kept her thoughts positive and untied her ankles. The voices in the next room had vanished, and from the opening and closing of doors, she thought they either had left or they were in another room.

She'd been unconscious when they'd brought her here, and she truly had no idea how much time had pa.s.sed. Her head felt cottony, and her thought processes were not working quite as fast as normal.

The one thing she knew for sure was that she was p.i.s.sed at Aaron. In her whole life, she couldn't remember being this angry. Part of the haze she saw had to have come from the blow to her head, but the rest of it came from her fury. Why on earth would he do those horrible things? Was he threatened by her competence? Jealous because she'd never shown an interest in him? She'd loved Aaron as a friend, worked with him, leaned on him, confided in him-and he'd reciprocated by stalking her. He'd violated her home, defiled her furniture and clothes, and stripped away her sense of safety and security.

And she'd proofread his f.u.c.king briefs. She'd covered for him, advocated for him to keep his job. Keith had indicated he wanted to kill her stalker, but now he was going to have to get in line. When the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had been a nameless, faceless ent.i.ty, Katrina had been happy to let Keith have him. Things had changed. This was personal, and she wanted retribution.

Now that she was free, she felt around, exploring her new, dark environment. The scant light showing through the grating wasn't very helpful. She crashed into a metal shelf unit, which brought footsteps pounding down the hall.

Frantic, she grabbed a section of brackets that had come loose. When the door to her prison opened, she swung. No thinking-she acted purely on instinct. The blow took the man in front by surprise. He fell to the ground, a heavy lump whose head cracked against the cement floor.

The second man stood back. He aimed his gun at her chest. "Put it down, b.i.t.c.h."

Katrina took exception to being called a b.i.t.c.h, especially when her behavior was completely warranted. Again, she went with her instincts. She swung again, aiming for the man's wrist.

With a loud bang, the gun went off. Katrina hefted her makeshift club back and whacked the second man in the face. Blood poured from a gash, and he screamed. She'd never heard a man scream before. The sound shook some of the cobwebs loose inside her brain.

She backed away, slowly making her way down the hall in the direction she'd seen the gun fly. It wasn't as easy to look for a gun as television shows made it out to be. There was no close-up shot of the gun lying under a pile of debris. The hallway was fairly clear. Orangey-yellow paint covered most of the walls. Piles of industrial plastic sheeting were pushed against the walls in several places.

Taking her gaze from the groaning gunman wasn't an option. It was a good thing she stepped on the gun. Unfortunately, she twisted her ankle in the process and fell on her a.s.s.

The second man, blood dripping down his face and onto his shirt, lunged for her. She scrambled for the gun and pulled the trigger without aiming. In a perfect world, she would have shot him in the chest. As it was, she was thankful not to have hit herself.

A small spot of blood appeared on his arm. He screamed again, a high-pitched, girlie sound that matched his skinny-boy exterior. "b.i.t.c.h! You're not going to get out of here alive!"

Thick arms banded around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She bowed out her body, flinging her head back and kicking with her heels at the same time. A sickening crunch and another scream told her she'd hit her target.

The sharp pain in the back of her skull sent waves of nausea through her system. She threw up a little in her mouth, but she just spat it out. The arms around her loosened. With a screech, she used her head and jabbed backward with her elbows.

The man dropped her. She fell to the floor, twisting as she did so. She made no attempt to catch herself. She brought the gun up, aimed, and shot.

Behind her, the sounds of people moving reached her ears. The woolly feeling in her head grew thicker. She turned around to find n.o.body there. Black dots danced in her field of vision.

"I came here to save you." That voice had laughed with her and lent her emotional support for nearly two years. Now it was laced with disbelief. "I thought we were friends."

Friends didn't kidnap one another. Aaron had only kept her close to screw her over. She moved slowly and regarded Aaron with pure hatred. "You stalked me, set me up to lose my job, and had me kidnapped. You are not my friend."

Blood seeped from a hole in his side and spread in a circle, staining his clothes. She watched the growing flower bloom, her finger on the trigger of the gun and her back against the wall. She motioned toward his pocket.

"Give me your cell. I'll call an ambulance."

__________.

Keith let Malcolm drive. Mal's little silver sports car went fast and cornered well.

The video on his mother's phone hadn't lasted that long, and it had been fuzzy, but he'd been able to make out Kat greeting Aaron. Then two men came out from behind a large metal trash bin, knocked her over the head, and carted her off.

His mother had hidden behind a line of bushes and trash separating the store from the houses next to it. She'd only been able to get a partial plate for the car that had taken Kat, but she'd been able to get everything they needed to put b.u.t.termore away for a long time.

Dustin had cursed under his breath. None of them had thought b.u.t.termore capable of this. They'd pegged him as a low-level patsy. Jordan had led a team to wait outside b.u.t.termore's house. Another team watched b.u.t.termore's mother's house.

Dustin had crowded his large body into Malcolm's backseat. He wore a headset and consulted a tablet. "Take the next left. b.u.t.termore is making a call right now."

Keith kept his eyes on the road. He knew the area. This was where they'd tracked Friedman the weekend before. They'd been hunting for reasons to get a search warrant for these warehouses. He exchanged a glance with Malcolm. Both of them were thinking the same thing. If the Friedman brothers were involved, then Kat's life was truly at stake. They wouldn't leave her as a loose end.

"f.u.c.k me. Trina's calling an ambulance." Dustin sputtered, his voice growing louder with excitement. "Turn right. Take another quick right. Here. We're here."

Malcolm slammed on the brakes. The three of them sprang from the car, pulling their guns as they hustled to the building. Keith led the charge, using the hand signals they all knew so well.

In the back of the warehouse, he found Kat, sitting with her back against a wall and a gun trained on a wounded Aaron b.u.t.termore. She looked up at him, a wan smile on her face. "Check me out. I saved myself. Don't touch that metal bracket. I whacked both the guys who kidnapped me with it. I'm thinking hair and blood samples."

Then her eyelids closed, and she pa.s.sed out.

Chapter Sixteen.

Keith couldn't believe how much Kat perked up once she'd had some plasma and her family was gathered around her. Aaron had confessed to kidnapping and a host of other crimes. He'd negotiated a plea that involved a lesser charge in exchange for his cooperation. It turned out he knew a lot about the Snyder-Friedman syndicate.

Keith stood by the window in her hospital room as her parents flanked her, delivering regular hugs and a smattering of tears. Every once in a while, Mama L would brush her fingers over Kat's cheek, shaking as she avoided touching the area of Kat's head wrapped in white bandages. Kat had sustained one h.e.l.l of a concussion. For the first time in his life, Keith almost cried with relief. Almost.

When visiting hours ended and everybody had gone, he glowered at the nurse who told him it was time to leave. He flashed his badge. She gave him a skeptical look and shrugged. "We let spouses stay the night. That chair over there converts into a sleeper."

Kat smiled at him as he sat on the edge of her bed. He'd spent the last two hours pacing her room, afraid to come closer because he might shake her if he did.

She didn't seem to be afraid, though. She placed her hand on his cheek. "Those self-defense lessons you and Malcolm gave me sure came in handy."