Page 26 of Rough Marshal Daddy
The satellite phone on the center console lights up, vibrating against the plastic. Kane grabs it and puts it on speaker. Jax’s voice comes through, tense and clipped.
“We’ve a problem.”
My heart rate spikes instantly. I tighten my grip on the wheel, the leather creaking under my fingers. “Talk.”
Jax doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Riley never made it to the drop-off agents for the WITSEC program. The team waiting at the secure location says no one showed. No handoff. No confirmation.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. The road ahead blurs for a second. I have to force myself to keep the truck steady. “That’s impossible,” I growl, my voice rough with disbelief and rising fury. “I handed her off myself. Two agents from the field office. Suits. Badges. They took her right in front of me.”
There’s a heavy pause on the line. Then Jax speaks again, his tone darker. “I don’t know who those men were, but they weren’t the agents who were supposed to get her into WITSEC. The real team’s still waiting. No contact. No sign of her.”
My vision tunnels. The truck swerves slightly before I correct it, tires hissing on the wet road. Riley. My sunshine. Taken. Not by the system. Not to safety. By someone else. The Morettis. Or someone working for them. The realization crashes over me like ice water. I can still see her face when they dragged her out of the motel room, her eyes wide and terrified, reaching for me. The sound of her crying my name echoes in my head, raw and broken.
Kane leans forward, his voice sharp. “Where is she?”
“We’re working on it,” Colt cuts in, his voice coming through the speaker now. “We’ve been trying to call Stevens all night but he’s not answering. Radio silence. Something’s very wrong here.”
“Stevens was on the phone with the two agents. Heard him myself,” I say, fists clenching on the wheel.
The truck feels like it’s closing in around me. My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears. Riley’s out there. Scared. Alone. With the wrong people. The thought of her in danger, of her soft voice calling for me and me not being there, makes something feral rise up in my chest. I want to turn the truck around right now. I want to tear the world apart until I find her. I want to wrap her in my arms and never let go again.
“Mobilize a team,” I say, my voice low and deadly. “Call everyone. I’m not waiting.”
Kane puts a hand on my arm, steadying. “We’ll find her, Mason. We’ll bring her home.”
I nod once, but inside the rage and fear churn together like a storm. Riley’s gone. And I’ll burn everything down to get her back.
The road stretches ahead, dark and uncertain, but my mind is made up. She belongs to me. And I’m coming for her.
29
Riley
The back room of the bar smells like stale beer, old cigarette smoke, and something sharper, like fear and money mixed together. The two agents drag me through a narrow hallway lined with faded posters and sticky floors that make my boots stick slightly with every step. My heart slams against my ribcage so hard it feels like it might crack. The air is thick and warm, heavy with the low hum of voices and the distant clink of glasses from the main bar area. When they push open a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall, the noise swells for a second before it cuts off again as the door swings shut behind us.
There are a lot of men in the room. Too many. They sit around a large wooden table and lean against the walls, all of them looking at me with cold, hungry eyes. Theirsuits are expensive but rumpled, their faces hard and scarred. Tattoos peek out from collars and sleeves. Guns are visible on some of them, holstered openly like they don’t care who sees. The room feels too small, the air too thick, the lighting too dim with only a few hanging bulbs casting yellowish pools of light that leave most of the corners in shadow.
I’m terrified. My legs feel weak, and I have to lock my knees to keep from collapsing. These are the men who’ve been hunting me. The ones who killed that poor man in the alley behind my bakery. And now I’m here, alone, with no Mason, no Kane, no one to protect me.
Antonio Moretti sits at the head of the table like he owns the world. He’s older than I expected, maybe in his late fifties, with sharp features, silver threading through his dark hair, and eyes that look like they’ve seen every horrible thing a person can do. He smiles at me, slow and dangerous, like a cat playing with a mouse before the kill. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Well, well,” he says, his voice smooth and cultured, with just a hint of an accent that makes it sound almost charming. “The little baker who saw too much. Come closer, sweetheart. Let me get a good look at you.”
The agents shove me forward. My boots drag on the dirty carpet, and I stumble slightly, catching myselfbefore I fall. Antonio’s laugh is low and amused, echoing off the wood-paneled walls. He leans back in his chair, swirling a glass of amber liquid in one hand. The ice clinks softly against the crystal.
“Killing you would be too easy,” he says, still smiling that terrifying smile. “Where’s the fun in that? Maybe I’ll sell you instead. A pretty little thing like you could turn a nice profit. Some of my associates have very specific tastes. You would fetch a good price.”
His words hit me like ice water. I feel my knees start to shake. My breathing comes faster, shallow and panicked. I want to scream, to run, to do anything, but there’s nowhere to go. The men around the room are watching me like wolves, their eyes crawling over my body. One of them chuckles darkly in the corner, the sound making my skin crawl.
The two agents who brought me here step forward. Antonio nods at them, and one of the scary men at the table tosses a thick wad of cash across the table. The agents snatch it up, counting the bills quickly with greedy fingers before stuffing them into their pockets. They don’t even look at me as they turn and leave the room, the door clicking shut behind them like a final nail in a coffin.
Assholes. Traitors. They sold me out for money. The betrayal burns hot in my chest, mixing with the terror until I feel like I might throw up. I’m trembling now, my hands shaking so badly I have to wrap my arms around myself to try to hold it together. I wish there was some way I could get word to Mason. Just one message. One call. Anything to tell him where I am, that I’m still alive, that I need him. But there’s nothing. No phone. No escape. Just this room full of monsters and the man at the center of it all who looks at me like I’m already his property.
Antonio laughs again, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. “Don’t look so scared, dear. We haven’t decided what to do with you yet. Maybe I’ll keep you for myself. You’re quite lovely. Soft. Innocent. I like breaking innocent things.”
I feel tears burning behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not in front of any of them. I think about Mason. His strong arms. His rough voice calling me his good girl. The way he held me like he loved me. I try to hold onto those memories, to wrap them around me like armor, but the fear is too loud. Too overwhelming.
The door opens again. Another man walks in, dressed in a sharp suit, his posture straight and confident. Antonio’s smile widens when he sees him.
