Page 94 of Defending You
“But he couldn’t have survived.” Pretty Boy’s tone was panicked. “Right?”
“If he’s not dead,” Falcone said, “then you are.”
“No, no. Even if he survived, he can’t have gone far.” He looked at the water running through the deep ravine. “Maybe his body was carried downstream.”
Falcone followed its meandering flow. “Don’t know much about the wilderness, but I don’t think that’s strong enough to carry a full-grown man.”
Mendez must’ve realized that because his searching became frantic. He pulled out a gun, started peeking behind bushes and boulders, occasionally saying, “Gotcha” and “Freeze.”
As much fun as this was to watch, Asher needed to move.
His window of opportunity was narrow. They’d search the wreckage, realize the bag wasn’t there, and climb back up. He had maybe ten minutes before they returned to their pickup, furious and empty-handed.
He resumed his search for the burner Cici had held. His knee ached and his shoulder throbbed, the makeshift bandage damp with fresh blood. He ignored the pain. Cici’s life depended on him finding that device.
A reflection caught his eye in the middle of a clump of bushes. He crouched there and reached, his good hand closing around smooth metal and glass. The phone’s screen was cracked but functional, the battery showing thirty percent.
Thank You, Lord.
He unlocked the phone and tapped in Bartlett’s phone number.
The call rang, then went to voicemail.
Great. The man who always answered his phone was too busy tonight.
He waited for the automated voice mail greeting, then said, “Check your texts.” He ended the call, then opened a text, adding Bartlett and Alyssa. She was the only person they’d dialed with that particular burner, and he was grateful her number was there.
He dropped a pin at his current location, then typed a message.
Cici’s been taken. I’m at the pin. Sending this phone in the bad guys’ truck. Follow it back to Cici.
He sent the message, then stared at the screen, waiting for someone to reply.
Neither Alyssa nor Bartlett did.
He’d add Gavin Wright to the text, but he didn’t know the man’s number. He’d committed to memory other bodyguards’ phone numbers, but the thugs were coming, their voices sharp with anger as they headed to the truck, bickering about what to do next.
It was possible, since they were empty-handed, that they would run from Gagnon. Should he attack? He could incapacitate Falcone and force Pretty Boy to take him to where Cici was being held. And then…then figure it out.
He could do it.
Except that was what he’d thought about getting Cici home. And where’d that landed him?
He was injured, there were two of them, and they were both armed. Armed and powerful. And who knew how many men were guarding Cici?
He’d made the mistake of thinking he could do this by himself. He needed his team.
His other option was to toss the cell phone in the pickup and hope like crazy these guys went back to where Cici was hidden. If they didn’t, then Bartlett would send people to intercept them.
The team could do it if they got the message.
The thugs’ voices were growing louder. Asher had an instant to make up his mind.
Lord, what do I do?
He heard no divine voice, but the answer was clear nonetheless. He needed to trust his team, not try to do this all by himself.
He opened the pickup door, shoved the phone beneath the driver’s side seat, then closed it as quietly as possible and bolted across the road. He hid in the woods just as the men climbed in the truck and drove away.
