Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Perfect. I’ll be waiting right there.” She pointed to a cluster of tables that Julia and some of the other mall staff were hurriedly righting.
By the time she turned back, the janitor had disappeared into the women’s restroom, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud.
Haisley blinked. That was an abrupt end to their conversation. Almost rude. Still, despite the disaster of the day and all the unanswered questions she and Nash still had to tackle, this was a step forward.
She pulled her phone from her purse and tapped out a quick message to Nash.
Got the janitor to agree to an interview in a few. Meet us at the food court.
As she darkened her phone to tuck it away, Haisley glanced down the dimly lit hallway that stretched ominously into darkness. A chill ran down her spine. With a jolt, she realized she was standing in the exact spot where all five missing women had been abducted.
Her breath caught in her throat as fear pressed in on her. Mr. Benedict, the likely mastermind, was now dead. It was probably perfectly safe. But standing in this very spot, knowing what had transpired, was beyond terrifying.
Isolation pressed in on her. Usually, when she visited the food court during mall hours, it was a bustling hub of activity. Now it felt like a ghost town. It felt unsafe.
Haisley gripped her phone tighter, her thumb hovering over Nash’s number. Would he think she was overreacting if she called him?
She was still trying to decide when a shuffling behind her made her blood suddenly turn to ice.
Nash gripped the steering wheel, his thoughts whirling as he sped toward the mall. The information Trees had extracted from Benedict’s burner phone was explosive—details of the trafficking ring, financial records, an unusual symbol he didn’t understand, and most crucially, the passcode to the Rugs Direct Unlimited website. It was the breakthrough they’d been waiting for, but it also meant the danger was far more immediate than either he or Haisley had realized.
The idea of his woman working under the same roof as a dangerous predator like Benedict fucking scared and infuriated him. He was glad Haisley never had to see or speak to the exploitive asshole again. And after last night, despite waking her up twice more in the night to make love to her, he couldn’t wait to touch her again, to hold her and reassure them both.
His phone chimed, breaking into his thoughts. It was a text from Haisley.
Got the janitor to agree to an interview in a few. Meet us at the food court.
A mixture of pride and concern surged through him. Haisley was brilliant, but the janitor had been suspiciously elusive. Nash quickly typed back.
3 minutes out. Be careful.
She didn’t reply. Nash frowned, trying to push down his unease. She was working; she was probably busy. Hell, maybe she was already sitting down with the janitor.
Still, he pressed the accelerator a little harder.
Just over two minutes later, he pulled into the mall parking lot and jogged through the entrance mall employees used, thankfully unmanned. The cavernous mall felt eerily empty. He made a beeline for the food court, his heavy footsteps echoing against the industrial tile.
His apprehension climbed.
Finally, he reached the food court. No sign of Haisley or the janitor.
“Haisley?” Nash called out, his voice breaking the jagged hush. Silence answered him.
Heart rate climbing, Nash pulled out his phone and dialed Haisley’s number. It rang once, twice… Then he heard it. The muffled sound of a ringtone, coming from the hallway near the women’s room.
“No. No. No!” Nash broke into a run, skidding to a stop when he spotted Haisley’s phone laying on the ground, still trilling. Her purse was strewn nearby, its contents spilled across the tile floor.
No Haisley in sight.
“Haisley!” Nash shouted, panic clawing at his throat. He spun in a circle, poked his head into the empty ladies’ room, searching desperately for any clue, any sign of where she might have gone.
A distant sound caught his attention—an engine revving. Nash’s blood ran cold as realization struck. Without hesitation, he sprinted down the darkened hallway and shoved his way through the double doors, into the parking lot.
In the distance, he saw an old brown conversion van speeding across the nearly empty lot—too far away to see the license plate—its tires squealing as it made a sharp turn toward the highway entrance.
Terror washed over him. His blood froze.
“No!” Nash roared, already running. But it was futile. The van was too far away, moving way too fast.
As it disappeared from view, Nash stared after it, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. The magnitude of what had just happened crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Haisley was gone. Taken. And he had been too late to stop it. He hadn’t protected her.
Fuck.
Nash shoved down the terrible mix of fear, rage, and guilt, and leaned into his training.