Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

A loud bang and a blinding light woke Annabelle. Her eyelids were too heavy to open all the way, which was fine because the light was far too bright anyway. She tried to lift her hand to shield her eyes, but her arm was just too weighty to move.

“About fucking time,” a voice said as a viselike grip wrapped around her upper arm and dragged her into the harsh light before releasing her just as quickly.

Annabelle sprawled on the floor, its wood rough against her cheek. She blinked, working to clear her head, but every thought felt like it took a million years to form, and then, when it did, it evaporated in less than a second.

Limbs shaking, she tried to push up from the old floorboards as a sense of familiarity about the unfinished floor began to register. She needed to sit. To stand. To get some perspective on her situation and surroundings. Her muscles had been replaced with wet noodles, and coordination was a word that had lost all of its meaning.

A rough hand grasped the hair at the back of her head and yanked upward, forcing her to face the man crouched beside her. His smile was empty, his eyes dark with hatred.

“I can’t believe something as fucking useless as you managed to bring me down.” He shoved her head back toward the floor.

Unable to stop the momentum, Annabelle’s face hit the hard wood, and she tasted blood.

Adrenaline coursed through her, counteracting the drug in her system, bringing strength to her muscles and clarity to her mind—if only a little. Awkward and ungainly, she crawled to the nearby table and used it to pull herself up onto her knees.

The room tilted, drifting in and out of focus as she watched the stranger pace in front of her. His movements jerky and tense, filled with rage.

Only, he wasn’t a stranger.

Not really.

She’d seen his image far too many times not to recognize him now that her brain was less foggy. Annabelle sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and cry.

“Eddie Hanson,” she breathed.

Pure, visceral terror swept through her, bringing much-needed energy to her mind and body. But even though she felt more able to move, she was frozen in place by the sight of the man in front of her. His presence filled the tiny room they’d been using to go over her testimony, as though black tendrils of evil emanated from his very pores.

But… it didn’t make any sense.

She’d been talking to the ADA, and then… nothing. Annabelle glanced behind him at the old wooden credenza, which now stood wide open. Had she been in there? Uncontrollable shivers racked her body as her eyes darted back to the killer in front of her.

Eddie stepped close, growing in size until he took up her whole world. He aimed his gun at her head.

“I should put a bullet in you right now,” he said, as if making small talk. “But see, here’s the thing, somebody cleaned out my accounts, and now I need a way to make some fast cash.”

He crouched back down in front of her, making her recoil. He ran the tip of the gun down her cheek, like a deranged caress. “Did you take my money, Annabelle?”

“N-no. I-I didn’t take your money.” She started to shake her head, but it made the room spin.

Where was Noah? The team? The ADA? Why wasn’t the building alarm screaming that someone had broken in? Why wasn’t someone rushing into the room to save her?

Her heart jumped to her throat, making her gag—were they all dead?

Dear God, please don’t let them be dead!

Eddie trailed the gun down her neck to the V of her plaid shirt. The barrel dug into the bone between her breasts. His attention seemed riveted to the mark it made in her flesh.

“You have any idea how much you’ll make me at auction?” His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “Never sold an agoraphobe before,” he whispered as he leaned in closer, his breath hot and rancid against her cheek. Annabelle tried to back away from him, but the table leg stopped her. “They say you’ll crack if you go outside. One of my buyers wants to test that theory.” There was a smug smile in his voice. “He plans to take you outside, Annabelle, and fuck you underneath the wide-open sky.”

Her stomach spasmed, and there was no stopping it. Annabelle vomited all over the Demon Brother’s leader.

He jerked back and leaped to his feet before backhanding her across the cheek. The blow sent her under the desk, where she cowered, her stomach reeling and her head spinning wildly.

“Fucking bitch.” He stormed from the room, and she heard doors open and close.

It was the only chance she’d get to make a run for the panic room.

With every ounce of energy she possessed, she hauled herself to her feet, using the desk as support, and launched herself at the open doorway. Momentum took her as far as the bottom of the stairs, where she grasped the banister and held on tight.

A sob escaped her, and she bit her lip to remain silent as she dragged herself up the stairs. She felt like a rag doll, boneless and awkward as she took each step. Below her, she heard running water and cursing. Eddie was cleaning himself up. She had to hurry.

But knowing that and doing it were two different things. Each step was a mountain. Her breathing was labored, and the syrup in her head still clung to the corners and dark places. She missed a step and crashed to one knee, making her cry out in pain.

Annabelle snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late.

“What the hell?” Eddie bellowed.

She made it up another step. Almost at the top. So close. Her apartment door was right there, mere feet away.

“Bitch!” Eddie shouted.

She heard his footsteps as they hurried after her.

And then she heard something else. There was a popping sound, then a strangled grunt, and she turned to see Eddie, stiff as a board and shaking at the bottom of the stairs with wires trailing from his side.

Her gaze shot to the hallway behind him. Halfway out of the doorway to the Benson Security office, Evan lay on the floor, a Taser in his hand.

There was blood smeared on his shirt and the floor beneath him.

His eyes met hers. “Run,” he grunted.

She couldn’t. Evan was hurt. He needed her.

“Run,” he shouted, as though he could read her mind. “Hide,” he whispered just before his body went limp.

As the electric charge cut off, Eddie Hanson fell to the landing. He wouldn’t be out long. With a sob and one last look at Evan, Annabelle staggered toward the door to her apartment.

The building swayed, and it felt like some steps took her forward while others took her back. She pushed open the door, then toppled through it and grabbed the back of the sofa to keep herself on her feet.

She could see the panic room now. Its door was open, ready for her to go through. All she had to do was make it there. She took one step. Then another. Her stomach lurched, and she fought the urge to vomit. All the while, great hiccupping sobs escaped her. Evan lay downstairs on the floor, bleeding. She’d left him there. And she didn’t even know if he was dead or alive.

There was a roar behind her.

Eddie was awake.

And the panic room was a million miles away.

The roads were wall to wall with cars. There was barely enough space to move, let alone speed toward the warehouse.

“Damn it to hell!” Noah slammed his hands on the dash in front of him. “It’d be faster if we just got out and ran.”

“No. It wouldn’t,” Rochelle snapped as she illegally squeezed between two vehicles before taking their SUV up onto the sidewalk for a second or two.

Horns blared, and Noah spotted several people with their phones out, filming them. The cops would turn up soon. Maybe that was a good thing. They could use an escort with sirens.

“I’m calling Johnson.” He pulled out his phone. “We need his help now we know he isn’t the mole.”

“We can’t be sure of that,” Rochelle said. “All we have is a skewed timeline and a missing ADA.”

Noah pinned her with a dark, anger filled look. “We’re sure, Rochelle.”

He dialed the detective. It rang a few times before he answered.

“This better be good,” Johnson said. “We’re up to our ears in it over here.”

“Margaret Grant’s your mole. She fooled us into believing Eddie paid one of the DA’s tech guys to smuggle Annabelle out of the warehouse. We now know that isn’t true, but we’ve lost contact with our people back at the building, and we’re stuck in rush-hour traffic trying to get to them.” He took a deep breath. “You need to send people to the warehouse. I think Hanson is there, and he has Annabelle.”

“Wait, what? You think Hanson’s at the warehouse and he has Annabelle? Why the hell aren’t you there protecting her?” It sounded like World War Three in the background.

“We were tricked into believing that the mole sneaked Annabelle out of the building in an equipment case. But she’s still there, Johnson. We can’t get our guy on the phone, and Eddie knows where she is.”

“I’m trying to stop all-out war here,” Johnson said. “I don’t have time to chase a theory.”

Noah’s hand curled into a fist as Rochelle gave up on trying to get through the traffic and took the SUV onto the sidewalk. She lay on the horn as a warning for people to get out of her way. One glance in the mirror told him that his team had fallen into line behind their vehicle, rushing through in Rochelle’s wake.

“He’s going to kill Annabelle,” Noah spat out. “Get people to the warehouse before it’s too late.”

“Hell.” Johnson must have covered the receiver, as Noah could hear only muffled voices. “McMillan and I will go there. We’re about ten minutes out, though.”

“Yeah, but you have sirens. See if you can get someone closer.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Merchant,” Johnson snapped. “But I’ll see what I can do.” The line went dead.

“Not sure that helped,” he told Rochelle.

She swerved over a corner, through a red light, and back onto the road. All hell broke loose behind her. They were getting closer. Only a few minutes from the warehouse now.

All he could do was pray they’d get there in time.

The door slammed open behind Annabelle, and the leader of the Demon Brothers stormed into the loft. Annabelle grasped the glass block wall as she glanced over her shoulder. She was so close to the panic room. Just a few more feet. But Eddie was coming up fast.

“I should kill you,” he roared. “But I need the money you’ll make me. And I want the money you have in your accounts. Yeah, I looked into you. Found out you were a rich bitch. That’s why those guys snatched you last time, isn’t it? Did they get what they were after? Did you give it up without a fight?”

A sob tore from her throat as she lurched for the panic room.

She wasn’t going to make it.

Inside, a well of anger she didn’t know she possessed ripped open. Fury surged through her like a geyser, erupting from every vein.

Not.

Again.

She wouldn’t be taken again.

NEVER AGAIN.

The rage was a cocktail of adrenaline and caffeine all rolled into one. Suddenly, she could move her body. And she took full advantage of it by launching herself like a football player in a flying tackle, straight through the panic room door.

But she wasn’t fast enough.

Eddie came with her.

Annabelle scrambled across the floor, desperate to get away from him. Flipping onto her back as she retreated, anxious to keep an eye on her pursuer. She instantly regretted it, because Eddie loomed over her like the monster in every worst nightmare. A furious, red-faced maniac with blood lust in his eyes and spittle in the corners of his mouth.

He let out a howl and kicked her in the ribs before standing over her, one foot on either side of her body. Annabelle gasped for air, clutching her ribs while trying to wriggle away.

Eddie bent over, madness staring her in the face. “You took everything from me, so I’m going to take everything from you.”

“No!” she shouted as she drew up her leg and kicked him as hard as she could, right in the balls.

He doubled over with a groan and staggered toward the sofa bed.

Annabelle clawed and scrambled her way to the door into the guest room. As Eddie clutched himself and cursed at her, she slammed the button that opened the door. But before launching herself through it, she punched the lockdown code into the panel above it. She threw herself through the door, just a hair’s breadth away from being caught in it when it slammed shut, locking Eddie inside the panic room.

She wasn’t stupid. It wouldn’t take Eddie long to escape the room, even without the code. But it did buy her a little time to get away from him.

And there was only one place left for her to go.