Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“This wasn’t my plan. I’ll leave town tonight. You’ll never see me again. I didn’t—”
The dark man kept walking, his partner flanking wide.
The white-clad man still in front of them growled a single word, “Meridian.”
He didn’t slow.
His partner circled behind the surrendering man, aimed low and fired two silent pops, one behind each knee. The man dropped to the floor, still pleading for his life around his gut-curdling howls.
The dark killer—the man in white had called Meridian—drew a long, slim sword from inside the lining of his trench. He gripped the kidnapper’s hair, yanked his head back until vertebrae popped. He opened his mouth wide in an ear-splitting scream as the man in black slid the blade slowly down his open throat.
Xander clamped his mouth tight, his stomach convulsing.
The sword vanished inch by inch until only the handle remained. The captor’s eyes bulged, gagging, still alive. Meridian held him there, as if he was relishing the agony, the savagery, before he ripped the sword free in one barbaric motion.
Blood sprayed in a red arc before the body slumped sideways with its head almost split in two.
Meridian turned without a word and walked through the ruined doors, partner at his side.
The man in white fumbled at Xander’s bindings, and it took him a minute to realize he was blind. Terror and fascination warred inside him. Despite how fiercely he’d fought with that makeshift cane-weapon, he helped him up with gentle hands.
“Are you all right?” His voice was just as soothing.
Xander didn’t know how he felt.
Free, Tech, and Curtis were untied by the men in brown, shaking out their arms as they got to their feet.
“Holy shit,” Curtis laughed. “Best vacation ever.”
Free raced across the warehouse, ignoring all the death, and grabbed his messenger bag from the back office where the leader of their abduction lay slumped lifeless over the desk.
Free returned with a massive grin, kissing his tablet as if he’d recovered his child.
Outside, three black SUVs idled at the curb, behind a ten-passenger van.
The one in white kept a steady hand on Xander’s elbow as they ushered him into the second truck. He climbed in, still shaking, trying not to look back at the mutilated bodies in the warehouse.
He stared straight ahead.
A group of men and women stepped out of the van wearing black, hazmat-type suits, their faces hidden behind clear shields. They hauled out heavy metal crates stamped in stark white letters.
RAVEN SANITATION UNIT.
BIOHAZARD.
Xander shook harder.
He didn’t know what scared him more—the men who’d kidnapped him, the ones who’d saved him, or the people who’d come prepared to clean it all up.
Xander Vale
They were escorted into the hotel by the men Xander appreciated but never wanted to see again.
They entered through the service corridor.
The four of them were positioned between the men in black, brown and white.
Meridian led the way.
No one stopped him.
Not the hotel security near the loading dock, the fidgety kitchen manager, nor the early morning shift who damn near tripped over their own polished shoes to get out of their way.
Xander rubbed his still burning wrists. His mouth tasted as if he’d been chewing aluminum foil. And his body was coming down from the adrenaline in ugly waves, turning weak and cold. Free walked at his side with Tech on the other.
Curtis was ahead of them, full of energy, bouncing with plenty of pep in his step.
Well he did have a pretty decent nap.
Xander didn’t understand that guy and suspected he never would.
The private elevator opened for them. They stepped in. Meridian stood facing the doors. The rest of his men all filled the small space behind them, and the ride up passed in the strangest, closest silence Xander had ever experienced. The elevator slowed. The doors opened.
Cassidy was there.
Xander didn’t remember shoving the man in black out of his way.
One second, he was inside the elevator, and the next he’d slammed into Cassidy’s arms hard enough to drive the breath from both of them.
Cassidy caught him, one arm clamping around his back, the other hand going to the back of his head. His big body surrounded him, warm, solid and shaking in a way Cassidy probably thought he was hiding.
“Lane.”
Xander buried his face in his throat.
“Lane, look at me.”
“No.”
Cassidy’s hand slid over his hair, down his back, over his shoulders. Checking. Always checking. His touch moved to his arms, wrists, ribs, face. He tipped Xander’s chin up and looked at him with eyes that made the hallway tilt.
“Did they hurt you?”
He shook his head.
Cassidy’s mouth tightened.
“Not, physically,” Xander corrected, because lying to Cassidy wasn’t necessary. “Mentally, I think I’ll be in trauma therapy until I’m ninety.”
A sound that was meant to be a laugh thinned and cracked into a low whimper. Cassidy’s hand stilled against his cheek, before he pulled him back into his chest.
He wrapped both arms around Cassidy’s waist and held on as his knees started to weaken. Cassidy helped him into the suite and sat him on the couch, kneeling in front of him. Inside the suite was an explosion of movement.