Page 67 of Zain

Dana’s body entered the screen. Zain caught her profile before she turned her back to the camera. A look of confusion had been etched on her face as a man approached. She followed the guy a few paces down the sidewalk, and then he turned and she bumped into him. He jammed something into her side—a Taser.

Jesus.

The phone burned his fingers as he watched Dana get pushed into the back of a car, unable to do a damn fucking thing. Rage ricocheted through his brain. Fast and pounding. A heavy weight sat in his gut. His sinuses pulsed with unspent emotion.

The guy was large and swift; the abduction had been quick and concealed. Less than five seconds after tasing her, he had her inside the vehicle andwas rounding the car to get in the driver’s seat.

As the car took off, the license plate filled the screen. Zain hit the pause button.

“Plate number,” Taschen hissed.

Zain grunted. “It’s pretty grainy.”

“Send it to me and I’ll see what we can do.”

Zain took a screenshot of the image then looked at the neighbor. “Mind if I text this to myself?”

He waved his hand. “Please.” The guy rocked back on his feet. “Anything I can do to help. Such a tragedy. First a fire, now this.” He shook his head sadly.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Zain didn’t hide the dryness in his tone. “Thanks for your help. Appreciate it. If you happen to see or hear anything else, you have my number.”

The man nodded emphatically and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. “Yes, yes. Of course. Good luck.”

Zain turned and headed back to his truck. “I’ll follow you to the office.”

“Yup.” Taschen clapped his hand on Zain’s shoulder. “We’ll find her, man. If we’ve got a plate number, that makes this a helluva lot easier.”

Still, the crushing force of fear sat hard on Zain’s shoulders. Having the plate number wouldn’t do a goddamn thing if Dana was already dead.

CHAPTER 21

Dana went tothe wall and dropped herself back down on the blanket. She landed with a thud that shook her bones, but nothing could rattle her more than the sound of the hurried steps coming down the stairs.

Every footfall was harder and angrier than the one before it. Her breath hitched. She scanned the floor for a weapon but saw nothing other than the yucky blanket, magazines, and food wrappers.

Panic flooded every cell in her body. Someone stopped outside the door, and the rattling of keys reached her ears. She drew her knees to her chest, a prayer on her lips.

Please, God. Don’t let me die here.

Tears wanted to rush forward, but she held them back. She had to glean as much information as she could if she wanted to get out of here. She was in a basement. The high window and the cold dankness of the room revealed that much.

Too bad there were a zillion basements in theSeattle area.

The door banged open and a man breezed into the room sans firefighter gear. He wore jeans and a red T-shirt that hugged his thick middle. Black combat boots covered his feet. His hands hung at his sides. There was no weapon that she could see, but he’d had a knife when he attacked her.

He wasn’t wearing a ski mask or a helmet this time, so she could study his face a bit more. The lack of lighting made identifying details tough, but his head was shaved and he had a tattoo on his forearm. A skull or something.Real original, dude.A scar chewed through his eyebrow. This was definitely the man who’d attacked her in her apartment.

He stopped a few feet away and tilted his head to the side, and the sudden movement made Dana cringe. Her spine instinctively straightened against the cement wall. He stalked forward, his expression cold and methodical. He opened and closed one hand and held a set of keys in the other. “Dana McAvery?”

She curled her lip. Just the sound of her name coming from his thick, slimy lips made disgust unravel inside her. “And you are?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Your worst nightmare.”

She snorted. “You might bemyworst nightmare, but Zain is yours.”

The man laughed, a loud, pealing sound thatreverberated off the walls to beat against Dana’s eardrums. He waggled his index finger. “This is gonna be fun.”

“Fuck you.”

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