Dallas sat beside Liam in the Range Rover as Quince tore through traffic toward the Connecticut farmhouse that Colin had directed them to. A property in need of restoration that Adele had purchased under her true, legal name upon first moving to the States after the kidnapping.
“She said it represented her,” Colin had said. “That as she grew and changed, the house would, too. She’s like that. Very self-aware. That’s why she’s such a good therapist. That’s why she was able to help me deal with what we’d done—why she urged me to reestablish our relationship when you and Jane were in college.”
You fucking idiot, Dallas had wanted to say. Because Colin seemed to truly believe his bullshit. That Adele was some kind of psychological guru, forging a path through both their neuroses. He had no inkling that she was a psychopath, no hint that his own descent had fueled her obsession.
Maybe Colin really was a man who’d spun out of control, pushed over the edge by the loss of his daughter and financial devastation.
Maybe.
But Adele was just one-hundred-percent fucked up.
And that fact terrified Dallas.
Now, Colin was in the back of the SUV with Noah and Tony on either side of him. He was gagged and wore noise-blocking headphones tuned to classical music, so as to ensure that the men could speak freely without giving Colin any information they didn’t want him to have. Dallas didn’t truly believe that Colin’s reveal of the location was part of a larger plan forged by Adele, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Liam turned to him. “And when it’s over? What are we doing with him?”
Dallas’s gut clenched. If he didn’t need Colin’s information, right then he could happily put a bullet through the bastard’s brain. Or maybe he couldn’t. Though he hated the pity that had welled up inside him, he couldn’t deny that he felt it. And that pity just might save the son of a bitch’s life.
“We’ll worry about that after we get Jane safely out,” Dallas said. He shifted in his seat to look back at the man. “And if we don’t get her out, then I don’t give a shit what happens to him.”
The secluded farmhouse stood at the end of a dirt road that opened onto twelve acres of untended apple orchards, and even with Quince behind the wheel it took an hour and a half to get there. When they finally approached the turnoff to the property, Dallas was about to lose his shit.
“We walk from here,” Liam said, and Dallas nodded. Right now, Liam was the de facto leader. Not only was Dallas not typically in the field, but he knew damn well his judgment was tainted by fear. “Tony and Noah, get to the house and get the device set up. Stay low, stay quiet. Once you’ve located them inside, signal us. Colin is going in with me and Dallas. Quince will provide backup from another access point. Tony, you handle anyone else who might be inside the property. Noah, you’re on coms unless Quince or Tony need assistance.”
They’d already gone over the plan multiple times, but it helped to hear it again. Solidified it. And gave Dallas a sense that this was really going to happen. That they were on it. That they would get in, and get her out.
Back in Manhattan, they’d pulled the farmhouse’s original blueprint, but there was no way to know if alterations had been made in the meantime. Hopefully not. Right now, the plan was for Quince and Liam to enter through the cellar access while Colin and Dallas entered through the kitchen door. They’d locate and approach, then assess the situation. If necessary, they’d try to reason with Adele, with Dallas promising her whatever she wanted. But the real mission objective was to take her down, and the men intended to stay hidden long enough to do that, so long as it didn’t compromise Jane’s safety.
As for Noah’s and Tony’s assignments, Noah would be stationed near the front door, and Tony would make his own determination once they were aware of how many people were in the property.
That little task was going to be accomplished using the listening device Noah had invented. Though designed for much larger buildings, it should work as well for the house, pinpointing—and relaying—internal conversations. The team anticipated that Jane was being held in either the basement or the attic. By using the device, they could confirm that and conserve valuable time.
Now that they were moving, Dallas removed Colin’s headphones, since he’d need to hear and follow instructions. He kept the gag. His tentative trust only stretched so far, and no way was he risking Colin shouting a warning to Adele.
About a hundred yards from the house, Dallas’s earpiece crackled, followed by Noah’s voice. “Looks like we’ve got three in the building. Target is in the basement along with Jane. A male identified as Christopher is on the first floor, kitchen area. Adele spoke to him through the house intercom.”
“Jane is okay?” Dallas asked at the same time that Liam asked if there were others inside.
“Can’t confirm as to Jane, but best guess is that she’s alive and conscious. Adele was talking to her, and the lack of a reply is most likely because of a gag. As for others, it’s a possibility. The device detects conversation, not human heat signatures. Could be other targets in the building who are off shift and sleeping, but there’s no way to know for sure.”
“We haven’t had any indication she’s working with anyone else,” Liam said after they broke the transmission. “But we won’t know until we’re inside.”
Dallas turned to Colin and yanked his gag down. The older man sucked in air, bending over and resting his hands on his knees as he gulped. “Talk,” Dallas ordered.
“There won’t be anyone else,” Colin said softly. He lifted his head and looked between Liam and Dallas. “Adele doesn’t trust easily.”
“Who’s Christopher?”
“A patient. I knew she’d started sleeping with him—I didn’t get why.” He drew in a breath. “Now, I guess I do.”
Dallas looked at Liam. “She knew she needed help.”
“Was she sleeping with anyone else?” Liam asked Colin.
“I don’t think so.”
“Probably just the three of them in there,” Liam said, his attention back on Dallas. “Game on.”
Liam broke off, following the path Quince had taken, while Dallas and Colin headed for the door. Dallas had a Glock at his waist and a Ruger in his pocket, and he’d happily use either on Adele if she’d harmed even a hair on Jane’s head.
“Footsteps.” Noah’s voice played in his ear as they entered through the kitchen door. “Location indeterminate. I can pinpoint voices with more accuracy.”
Dallas said nothing, unwilling to speak and reveal themselves to Adele.
He pointed to the door that led to the cellar. They approached carefully, then opened the door, pistols drawn.
Slowly, they went down the stairs, but the second they reached the concrete floor, Dallas realized that all their planning was for naught.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Adele said, her weapon pointed at Jane, gagged and tied to a post. Her eyes were wide, though, and he didn’t need words to know that she was terrified. He tried to reassure her, but goddamned if the situation wasn’t fucked. He knew Noah could hear everything, but he and Tony would only come if Christopher Brown was taken care of. And what could they do when they arrived, anyway? With a gun at Jane’s head, Adele held all the cards.
Especially since Liam and Quince didn’t seem to be in the cellar yet.
“Be a good boy and slide your gun over here. Go on,” she said. “Do it.”
Carefully, he put his Glock on the floor and kicked it toward her.
“Any more weapons on you?” she asked, turning the gun on him as she walked toward him. But it wasn’t him she was asking—it was Colin.
“Right front pocket.”
“Take it out, darling. Same story. On the ground. Kick it to me.” She laughed, then, obviously seeing something in Colin’s face. “Well, how do I know what you’ve been up to? You’ve been with them. That means you might not be with me anymore.”
“Adele,” Colin said, as he took the gun from Dallas’s pocket, “no.”
“You rock solid bastard,” Dallas said, though in truth he hadn’t expected anything more from the man.
Colin shrugged, then kicked the gun to Adele. “I’m not going to prison, Dallas. Not again.”
He looked at Adele. “There are more coming.”
She wiggled her fingers at him. “Come join me.”
He did, and she turned her gun back on Jane as he approached.
“Insurance,” she said, “in case they get in too easily. But I don’t think so. I had the cellar door reinforced, and there’s no other way in except the way you came. And in case you missed it, that door at the bottom of the stairs we came through? Solid steel. It will take your friends a while to get through.”
“You’ll never get out,” Dallas said.
“Of course we will.” She smiled sweetly. “We’ll have hostages.”
“You miserable bitch.” His mind was churning, trying to figure the best plan. If the entrances were reinforced, he needed to buy time so the others could get in. Keep talking and keep her busy. Relay whatever information he could to Noah’s headset.
And get her to aim the damn gun somewhere other than at Jane.
“You’ve disarmed me, Adele. Put your gun down. Let’s not risk an accident, okay? There’s no reason to keep a gun on her.”
“Oh, I think there is.”
Dallas kept his eyes on Adele, but he glanced once toward Jane. She stood stoic, her eyes a little unfocused—probably drugged—but she turned to him and he saw the trust there.
Trust he damn sure didn’t intend to squander. But right then, he didn’t know what the fuck to do next.
“I’m so sorry, Janie,” Colin said from where he stood at Adele’s side. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just needed the money. Lots of money, and I needed it fast. And I was so angry with Eli and your mother that it seemed like the perfect plan. I didn’t know you would be there—I didn’t! I just wanted the ransom and then I was going to let Dallas go. But it all spun out of control. Can you forgive me? Please say that you can forgive me.”
