Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,72

the guys being dead.

As the vehicle drew closer, relief hit her like an iron fist when she recognized Jackson’s hulking frame crammed behind the wheel.

He pulled up to within a few feet and cut the engine.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” he said as he got out. There was blood on his shirt, though it didn’t appear to be his, and a long, thin cut marked his left arm. Overall, he seemed just fine, and that gave her hope for the rest of the team.

“I wouldn’t call him a friend. Do you have anything we could use to restrain him?”

“Sure thing.” Jackson crossed to the guy and laid him out with a single blow to the head. “Consider him duly restrained.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I suppose that works,” she said as she added concussion to the man’s list of injuries. “How are the others? Is anybody hurt?”

“A few scrapes and cuts, but otherwise everybody’s fine.”

The knot in her stomach relaxed. “What about Aranza?”

Jackson shook his head. “Wasn’t there.”

Hope’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Wade ain’t too happy about it.” He gave the unconscious man a quick once-over. “Is that your handiwork?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate, mostly because she was embarrassed about the man nearly overpowering her. Besides, her mind was still stuck on the fact Aranza hadn’t been at the compound. After so much effort, and the loss of his friend, Wade must be inconsolable.

Jackson nodded in appreciation. “Nice job.” He hoisted the man over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. “We best get back before the guys start to worry. Wade’ll be happy to see you’re okay, and I’m sure he’ll want to ask this guy a few questions when he comes around.”

Chapter 18

A search of the master bedroom yielded a panic room hidden beneath the floorboards, nicely furnished with a twin bed, internet connection, running water, and a week’s supply of non-perishable food.

But no sign of Aranza.

Judging from the layer of dust coating everything, nobody had been inside the panic room for quite some time.

Frustrated but not ready to give up, Wade climbed out of the room and moved to the adjacent home office, where dark wood and masculine colors dominated the décor.

Ignoring the lingering stench of cigars, he stood in the doorway for nearly a full minute, his eyes scanning the area for signs of anything out of place. The room was messier than the rest of the house, leading Wade to believe that Aranza kept this room off-limits to the housekeeping staff. Not surprising, considering this was where the asshole conducted his business.

A safe was embedded in the floor of the closet, but it was locked and he lacked the necessary skills to get it open. Moving on, he checked behind pictures, flipped switches, and tilted every last book on the shelves, but uncovered no secret rooms or escape tunnels.

Jaw clenched, he crossed to the large mahogany desk by the window with a view of the pool. From where he stood, he could also see the section of wall where Hope had climbed over to escape the compound. He paused, wondering whether Jackson had reached her yet. If she followed instructions, she’d be perfectly safe, but he’d feel much more at ease once he knew for sure.

“Find anything?”

The sound of his brother’s voice made Wade jerk. He glanced to the right and saw Austin’s large frame filling the doorway. “Bolt-hole in the bedroom, but it hasn’t been used in a while. You?”

“Nothing that lets us know where the fucker went.” Austin leaned one muscled shoulder against the wood frame. He’d wiped away most of the camo paint, but little streaks of green and brown still marked random spots on his face. “What do you want to do with the cook?”

“We’ll cut him loose when we leave.”

“And what if we don’t find anything concerning Aranza’s whereabouts?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

He wasn’t prepared to consider the possibility that he’d come all this way—not to mention lost his closest friend—for nothing. No way was he giving up until Carmen got the justice she deserved. There had to be something, some minute clue, to point him in the right direction.

Wade shifted his attention back to the desk, riffling through the stack of papers but coming up with nothing of interest. One of the drawers was locked, as if that would actually stop anyone from getting inside. He checked for signs of it being booby-trapped, and upon finding none, he