Page 95 of Healing the Heart

A couple of support beams, a small section of an interior room, and a teetering side wall were ablaze with dark smoke billowing into the air.

“Dammit, Doc. Answer if you’re all right!” Keiran called. He realized as it penetrated, it wasn’t for the first time.

“I’m good,” he replied as shadows moved on his periphery and his team moved out of the trees, weapons trained needlessly on the decimated cabin.

One man, breathing hard, halted beside him. Keiran’s voice echoed through the smoke-filled air and through the device in his ear.“Fiona?”

“Wasn’t here,” Noah stated in disgust. “No one has been on that road in months.”

“He did all of this to take you out?” He bent and picked up the duffel. “Why risk the ransom?”

“You think I have a clue into this bastard’s psyche?” Noah bit out angrily. “I wish the hell I did because we’re back at square one with no idea where Fiona is.”

BONE TIRED, FRUSTRATED, and covered in dried blood from dozens of tiny cuts caused by flying debris, Noah let himself into his empty condo. He didn’t want to leave headquarters with the frantic search for Fiona continuing, but Keiran had ordered him to go home, clean up, and grab a few hours of sleep.

Since leaving his special forces unit, he was used to giving orders and wasn’t much on following them. Still, he washere, the silence deafening without Fiona’s usually enthusiastic greeting. He intended to shower asap because his shirt had stuck to the small wounds on his back and shoulders. Every time he moved, it pulled at the dried blood, and they broke open again. Sleep, with Fiona still in that maniac’s hands, wasn’t happening, so he’d follow two orders out of three.

His Rossi boss would have to be satisfied with that.

Noah dropped the ransom-filled duffel at his feet and emptied his pockets onto the console table in the entryway, as was his habit. The phone joined the rest after he checked his messages again. There were none. No voice mails or missed calls, either. Why hadn’t he made contact to gloat, make more demands, or at the very least to check if his exploding-abandoned-cabin ruse had taken him out?

He dropped the phone with a clatter, then, not bothering with the lights, walked through the darkened living room to the back hallway. In his office, he flipped on the wall switch, squinting when the overhead lights lit the room.

As his eyes adjusted, he noticed signs of Fiona’s presence. Little things like a coffee cup on the tray on the ottoman by his oversized chair, a fuzzy beige throw cascading over the arm to the floor, as if someone had hastily gotten up, and the pink roses in a vase on the side table. He’d sent them a few days ago to cheer her up.

Fiona was introverted by nature, but being confined to the condo 24/7 made even her climb the walls. Other than the bedroom, his office was where she spent the most time. When he worked at home in the evening, she’d curl up in the big chair and read, content to be in his company.

He crossed to the chair and picked up the fuzzy blanket. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers. When it released a familiar scent, he brought it to his nose and inhaled. Hypnotic Passion, his birthday gift to her, the scent now synonymous withFiona. She wore it every day, not so much because she liked it but because he did.

He buried his face in the fabric and breathed in her scent again. “Oh, kitten,” he whispered, “what has he done with you?”

A noise in the empty apartment put him instantly on alert. He froze, listening, then called himself an idiot when the water for the ice maker in the freezer shut off.

Noah knew he should try to rest. Being on edge and sleep deprived wouldn’t help him find her faster, but the thought of lying in bed while a vengeful lunatic held her captive was unimaginable. After a shower and a massive cup of coffee, he’d be good to go again.

He laid the throw over the arm of the chair like she had left it then switched off the light and left the room.

In his bedroom, he was shrugging out of his shirt, wincing as it pulled at his wounds, when a voice came out of the darkness. “Look, kitty cat. Master’s home.”

He searched the shadows with his weapon drawn, but the sight that greeted him when the bedside lamp switched on made him stand down and raise both hands in surrender.

“Don’t hurt her,” he stated, his calm tone belying the fear raging inside him.

“You mean you’d be upset if I sliced up your little kitty?” Jordan asked as he pressed the edge of a wicked-looking blade against Fiona’s throat. He sat behind her in the bed, a hand in her hair pulling her head back. If she flinched, the knife could deliver a fatal cut.

“I have your money,” Noah stated. “It’s in a duffel in the front hall. Take it and go. If you don’t hurt her, we’ll end it there.”

“What’s keeping me from killing her, and you, then taking the money anyway?”

“You wouldn’t be wanted for a double homicide.”

His laughter, low and malicious, exposed his questionable sanity. “We both know that’s not true.”

With the knife still at her throat, he ran his other hand up Fiona’s bare belly to her breast, where he squeezed harshly, making her whimper.

“I don’t think I’ll go just yet. I want to play with your kitty a bit more.” He nodded at the chair at the foot of the bed. “Have a seat, Doc. But drop your gun and kick it across the room before you do.”

Noah had no choice but to do what he asked, sliding the gun on the hardwood all the way to the bathroom door where he couldn’t reach it. The wingback chair he folded himself into usually sat beside the other one at the window. The bastard had staged all this.

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