Future Under Fire - Trish McCallan Page 0,27

across his chest.

“Your abductor?” he asked as he headed toward her.

“I think I killed him.” Her voice didn’t waver this time.

“Anyone else on site?”

“Just Langley. She’s in the room behind me.”

“Clear.” Tag raised his voice so Tram could hear him from the back of the house.

“Clear.” Tram echoed from the mouth of the hallway at the rear of the room.

“Langley’s in the room to your left.” Tag indicated the room with his flashlight. It was the only one behind Sarah.

“On it.” Tram headed across the floor.

Tag crouched in front of Sarah. Gently easing the gun from her fingers, he set it aside. He started his scan at her feet—and did a double take—her bound feet. When he reached her chest and the patches of liquid black on her white gown, his pulse went icy and sluggish.

Blood. He could smell the metallic stench of it.

He locked down his alarm and concentrated on assessing her condition. “How bad are you hurt?”

She shook her head, the movement dazed. “I’m not. He was sleeping. He woke up when I reached for the gun and tried to grab it back. It went off.” She swallowed hard; her gaze locked on Tag’s face. “He’s dead. Isn’t he?”

Tag straightened to press his middle fingers against the still neck. He gave it a couple of seconds before pulling them away. “Looks like it.”

Good riddance.

“Langley’s not there,” Tram said, returning from the other room. “She went out the window. I’ll go find her.” He paused, before adding dryly. “Danny texted. He’s out front.”

Tag scowled. So much for his direct order. “Keep Langley outside. I’ll bring Sarah out in a minute.”

He set his weapon on the floor and reached for the knife holstered at his ankle. First order of business was freeing Sarah from her hobbles, second was getting her out of here.

“Pienkowski has Langley.” A quiet voice called from the front door.

Tag was reaching for his weapon, when the name the stranger spoke registered. This must be one of the men from Langley’s security detail. How the fuck had they found the house?

“We heard a gunshot,” the dude continued. “Anyone need a medic?”

“We’re good.” Tag called out.

“We’re taking Langley and bugging out then,” the guy called back.

Tag frowned; they’d better make sure this dude was on Pienkowski’s team. They’d never hear the end of it if they handed her off to a new threat. “Tram, you want to—”

“On it,” Tram said, the whisper of his boots following the owner of the strange voice back out of the house.

“Who was that?” Sarah asked, her voice exhausted.

The adrenaline must be crashing. Tag kept his voice calm. “One of the guys from the security detail Langley’s father sent.”

“Really?” She lifted her head in surprise, but it quickly drooped again. “That was quick. We weren’t even here half a day.”

Half a day too long…

“Can you hold the flashlight for me?” He gave her the lumens torch, which she directed at her feet. It took seconds to slice through the flex cuffs.

She hissed weakly as the zip tie fell away, and bent forward to rub at her ankles. Tag took back the flashlight and directed it down. The skin around her ankles looked red and raw and scraped, but nothing serious.

The hunger to hold her hit hard. Christ, he wanted to feel her warm, solid weight in his arms. Her flesh against his. Proof that he’d reached her in time, proof that he hadn’t lost her for good. But as he reached for her, Mitch’s taunting words barreled through his mind.

I taught her to shudder every time she’s touched. To flinch. To cringe. You can thank me later. If you get her back. If she lets you near her again.

Fuck…

What if she couldn’t stand to be touched?

Fuck…

The last thing he wanted was to pile more stress on top of what she’d already suffered.

Fuck…

Scowling, he backed away, even though every atom in his body was screaming insistently that he cradle her close and never let her go.

Chapter Eight

Huddled in the back of a squad car, Sarah stared out the window, watching a rainbow of colors splash the night in strokes of red and blue. The police had arrived half an hour ago. So had an ambulance. Not that the paramedics had much to do. Other than scrapes and bruises, Sarah had escaped serious harm. And Langley was gone, carried off by the team of bodyguards her father had sent.

But the man who’d kidnapped them… He hadn’t been so lucky. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying

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