Page 110 of Holiday Hostage
He was the only one idiotic enough to make a second go at her.
Especially now that he thought we were dead.
I gripped the edges of my vest and tugged, twisting my torso as much as I could without debilitating pain.
“Plan?” Tarron stopped in front of the metal table where our information lay strewn across the gray surface.
We’d holed up in an old house near Payton’s, one that Reed found through one of his contacts and managed to get us a short-term lease as our base of operations.
I scanned the information we’d gathered, including a list of all known—and hidden—buildings that Jack owned or had been seen in.
We’d moved from there to known associates, tracking his movements since he left the rangers.
Things moved quickly once we had a clear lead from another former ranger who’d been part of Jack’s team for a while but had decided the man’s tactics were too brutal for his tastes.
That conversation turned up the heat.
We’d already been going at full strength to find Payton, but thinking about all the things Jack could be doing to her in the meantime had us sick to our stomachs.
I ran the back of my hand over my mouth. “We approach from this direction. The blueprints show three exits. We circle around and see if he has any men guarding the place.”
“Taking them out?” Reed stuck his thumbs in the shoulder openings of his vest and narrowed his eyes at the blueprints.
I did my best to consider all sides of the situation.
“Not permanently. Going in silently is our best chance at success. Take them down, then prep them for the police to pick up. Jack, though…” I bit down on the rush of bile. “We’ll see how it goes.”
My chest throbbed from a mixture of physical and emotional pain. Payton. We had to get to her, no matter what.
“Truck’s ready.” Reed jerked his elbow toward the front door that led to an abandoned parking lot where we’d stashed the old car he bought off a used lot yesterday.
The rusted sedan gave us anonymity, and based on the location where we were headed, it wouldn’t stand out.
We hauled everything into the car, and Reed hopped into the driver’s seat, holding up a hand when I tried to protest. “No way in hell, man. I’m the most healed. I get driving privileges.”
Couldn’t exactly argue with that.
I climbed into the back, letting Tarron take shotgun.
Reed took his time approaching the outer slums of New York.
The view changed slowly at first, going from shops and fancy apartments to dimly lit alleys shadowed by dumpsters where men and women lingered in the dark despite the sunlight the sidewalk offered.
One entire block held nothing but rows of tents along the alleys. Glass was either broken out of the buildings or covered with cardboard held on with duct tape.
Empty bottles and wrappers were trapped in the space between the road and the sidewalk, clogging the drains and backing up into the street.
“Almost there.” Reed flicked on his blinker and eased around the corner after checking the coordinates on his phone.
He pulled over and parked, and his hand hovered over the keys. “You know there’s a good chance the car won’t be here when we come back.”
“It will be.” I opened the door, wincing at the creak. “There’s no one else around here. Jack would have made sure.” He was an asshole, but he knew how to run an operation.
I took my pack from the trunk and strapped on additional weapons. “Let’s go get Payton.”
We crouch-walked our way down the street, turning left at the corner.
At the end of the block, three men stood guard outside a steel door.
