Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,87

what you called her. She was your best friend in high school.”

Reese couldn’t go through the house without giving himself away, so he backed out through the door that was now hanging by hinges. He took off at a run, making his way around to the front door. Stepping inside, he saw Baz kneeling on Dugan’s back, his gun pressed to the back of the man’s head.

Baz looked up, motioned for the doorway on Reese’s right.

Keeping as quiet as he could, he worked his way to the opposite end of the hallway from Brantley, peeked around the corner.

There was Lauren Tyler, a shotgun aimed at Brantley. She looked as though she knew how to handle the gun, which didn’t bode well for any of them.

“Lauren, I’d just like to talk,” Brantley repeated calmly.

“My name’s not Lauren,” she bit out. “It’s Emily Dugan.”

“Okay, Emily,” Brantley said easily. “Like I said, we’re not here to hurt you. In fact, if it’s all the same to you, I just need to check on Corinne. Can you let me do that?”

“No. She belongs to Bill now.”

“Who’s Bill?” Brantley asked, clearly attempting to keep her talking.

“My husband,” she said sternly. “The man I love. I belong to him. Always will.”

Fucking bastard. Nine years of warping and twisting her mind.

“I want to see him,” she demanded. “I want to see my husband.”

“Okay.” Brantley slid his gun into his holster, then lifted his hands up. “We can arrange that.”

“Now.”

Reese remained where he was, keeping his gun trained on Lauren’s back. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was shoot the woman, but he would do what was necessary to keep Brantley safe. It was hard enough knowing she could blow a hole in him at any moment, but he’d spent years training for this. After all, SEALs weren’t the only spec ops teams out there.

He only prayed it didn’t come down to that.

“Baz. Bring Bill in here,” Brantley called out.

There was some shifting, followed by a couple of grunts, then footsteps. Bill appeared at the end of the hall near Brantley, his hands cuffed behind his back.

“Tell her to put down the gun,” Brantley instructed.

“I can’t do that.”

“If you want to see her walk out of here on her own, you’ll tell her to put down the gun.”

Bill didn’t respond.

“You love her, don’t you, Bill?” Brantley continued. “That’s why she’s here. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have kept her, right? I can’t imagine you’d enjoy seeing her get hurt.”

Dugan peered over at Brantley.

“Tell her to put down the gun,” Brantley ordered. “Or my partner’s gonna have to shoot her.”

Reese knew it was only talk. Brantley would not force him to shoot Lauren. Not unless she gave him reason to.

“It’s okay,” Dugan began, his eyes locked on Lauren. “Remember what I told you, honey?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

Daddy? What the fuck? She had called him her husband. The guy was so fucking twisted.

“We have a plan, right?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“That’s what we need to do, baby girl.”

“Dugan,” Brantley warned, his gun coming out, aimed directly at Lauren. “Tell her to put down the gun.”

They had her trapped between them. There was no way she could do anything.

“Laur—Emily,” Brantley correctly. “Put the gun down. We just need to talk.”

“I can’t do that,” she said softly. “Daddy told me what I need to do.”

“Emily, no.”

Shit.

Reese knew where this was going and he’d be lying if he said his gut didn’t churn with anxiety.

Tucking his gun into his holster, he took one step forward as Lauren lowered the shotgun, turning it so the barrel angled up, toward her head.

“Emily, don’t do this,” Brantley shouted.

Not thinking, Reese cleared the few feet between them, tackling Lauren to the ground, sending the gun clattering to the floor.

In an instant, she was kicking and punching, screaming at the top of her lungs. Lauren Tyler was more animal than human in that moment, which spoke to the hell Dugan had put her through.

Brantley was there, kneeling down, pinning Lauren’s hands to the floor as Reese attempted to cuff her with the zip ties he’d brought with him. That didn’t stop her from thrashing around, kicking and flailing. She was going to hurt herself if she wasn’t careful.

Reese looked up at Brantley, received a nod.

It took a little longer because her adrenaline was flowing, but Reese managed to apply enough pressure to knock her out. He hated to do it, but she deserved mercy. Perhaps the EMTs could give her something to keep her under. At least