Strategic Maneuvers - Jemma Westbrook Page 0,82

‘clear’ that came through the line his heart sank.

Abe huffed out a breath that clouded the air in front of him. “He’s fucking gone.”

“We don’t know that yet.” Pierce relaxed the hands gripping his pistol, forcing himself to focus. “He could still be here.”

He had to be there. Had to be inside.

This had to end.

“Last room’s locked.” Zeke’s voice was muffled as he directed one of the other men to kick it in.

Three solid thumps later the line went silent.

“Is he there?” Pierce looked at the men around him. “Zeke. Is he there?”

“I’m coming down to let you in.”

Zeke’s expression was grim as he looked out through the glass door, sliding it open. “He’s not here.”

“Fuck.” Pierce shoved his way inside.

The place was a mess. Empty liquor bottles filled the sink and littered the counters. Bags of trash were lined along the kitchen wall.

“Not exactly how I expected a guy as rich as he is to live.” Brock lifted the lid on a pizza box, grimacing at the molded contents.

“His whole world is unraveling.” Zeke tipped his head to the back door. “It was unlocked.”

“There’s a ton of prints out there. It’s impossible to tell who they might be from.”

“He’s probably been coming and going through the back to make it more difficult.” Zeke leaned out the door to look around. “Doesn’t look like there’s any cameras back here.”

“Son of a bitch.” Pierce holstered his gun as he walked through the main floor.

“You are probably going to want to go upstairs.” Zeke followed him through the open living room littered with trash and discarded clothing. “I think we’ve got a bigger problem than we initially thought.”

“Bigger?” How the fuck could it be any bigger? They’d fucking lost Anthony again.

He’d burned down properties and planted bombs.

At the top of the steps Henry stood in an open doorway. The casing was splintered along the latch side. “This the one that was locked?”

Henry tipped his head in a nod, his eyes never leaving the room’s interior.

Pierce stepped past him and into the small room and his stomach dropped.

“He’s definitely been watching her.” Zeke came in behind him, scanning the walls. “Looks like for a while.”

“Jesus.” Pierce wiped one hand down his face.

The walls of the room were plastered with photo after photo of Amelia. Some were clearly taken without her knowledge. Some were selfies.

“How did he get these?” Pierce walked to a picture that was much too grown up of a pose for a seventeen-year-old girl. He snatched it off the thumbtack holding it in place, ripping it down.

“Probably Instagram or something.” Zeke pointed to a similar one. “He most likely just pulled them off the site and printed them out.”

“She’s not allowed to have social media.” It was one of the rules he and Helen agreed to. A way to ensure Amelia’s anonymity as long as possible.

Zeke snorted. “Have you ever met a seventeen-year-old girl?”

Pierce turned toward Zeke. “Shit.”

“We’ve got an issue.” Dutch was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention at once.

“What’s going on?” Pierce crumpled the photo and threw it to the floor as he walked back to the stairs.

“We just caught a suspicious-looking van on the traffic cam leading to headquarters.”

“What’s suspicious about it?” Pierce motioned to the rest of the men, sending them all out the front door to where their own van was waiting.

“You’d have to ask Harlow. She says it’s suspicious. To me it looks like nothing.”

“Then I’m asking Harlow. Why’s it suspicious?”

“It just is.” Harlow’s explanation was technically lacking.

But it was more than enough for him.

It’s why he started Intel in the first place. Men were black or white.

Women saw color.

“We’re on our way back.” Pierce jogged to the van, opening the back doors and making sure all his men were loaded before he climbed in after them.

“What the fuck is that?” Heidi’s voice was higher pitched than usual. “Holy shit!”

All hell broke loose through the line in his ear.

“Dutch. What the fuck is happening?” Pierce grabbed the handle over his head as Rico floored the gas.

“Someone just came through the gate.” Dutch’s voice was tight, but still controlled as he barked out orders to the people around him.

He shouldn’t have left. He should have stayed. Let Zeke handle this. “Get Mona someplace safe.”

No one responded.

“Did you hear me? Get Mona someplace safe.” He wasn’t there to protect her. He needed someone else to make sure she was okay.

Dutch came back on the line, his words clipped. “Pierce, Mona’s not in here.”

CHAPTER 24

“GOD I HATE this