Page 58 of Fully Loaded

“I might be able to swing that with my dirty money.”

Rhett scowled. “You’re going to say that every time I collect a debt, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “It’s more fun that way.”

“Sit back and catch your breath. I need to phone in some backup from the locals.” Rhett pulled out a different phone from his jacket pocket and barked orders into the mic. Brock clutched the dash as they whizzed by the Eiffel Tower. Only hours ago, Dani had been in his arms. Only hours ago, dozens of people had been gunned down and she’d been kidnapped.

He had help, but this was far from over.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Dani stared at the clock on her phone. Almost 1:45 a.m. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose and mouth to stifle a sob. Brock was dead. It was the only explanation. Nothing short of death or a life-threatening injury would keep him from her when she needed him most. She lowered her face to her knees in the darkness. Everything seemed so trivial now. She’d hated him for years after he cut her out of the Domenico Vitali heist. She’d had every right to be angry, but at the end of the day, she knew in her heart he’d move heaven and earth for her. Wasn’t that all that mattered? Didn’t that prove his devotion?

She’d never have a second shot with Brock because he’d died putting his life on the line for her. She buried her face between her knees and squeezed her hands into fists. She never should have called him. Shouldn’t have let him get tangled up in this. Rage blazed through every cell in her body. She’d find out who’d hurt him and make them pay.

But she couldn’t do it from the custodian closet. Sucking in a breath and swiping the moisture from her cheeks, she got to her feet. Her eyes burned from the makeup that had ran into them. She blinked until the sensation abated and reached for the door handle.

She hadn’t dared turn on the light in the closet. Even though she held an assault rifle, fear tickled her spine. She’d kill someone if it came down to it, but the guards had a lot more experience with handling weapons than she did. She curled her hand around the gun’s handle and eased the door open an inch. She examined the long corridor through the crack. Empty. Pushing the door open, she slipped out. The door creaked, and she grimaced and let it close slowly. A light flickered down the hall and dragged her attention to the sign above the stairwell. She wouldn’t chance taking the elevator and running into another guard. Meeting up with Ubrigg wouldn’t be so bad, though. Not while she was armed to shit.

She padded down the hall keeping the gun up in front of her. Her breath matched her stride, which brought her to the exit. Bumping her hip against the metal door, she eased it open. The metal cried out and she sunk her teeth into her tongue.

The cold concrete floor penetrated the balls of her feet. She rose onto her tiptoes and edged her way to the stairs. If she moved quickly, she might get out before Ubrigg returned. Doubt took hold of her as she descended. If she left the building, she’d have no clue where to look for Brock or who’d taken him.

First things first—she’d get to a phone and call Milo and Rhett. They’d know what to do. She dropped the hand supporting the base of the gun to her dress and lifted the material. The heavy weapon hung near her side as she bounded down the flights of stairs. She hit the second-floor landing and caught her breath before turning to the next flight, which would take her to ground level. As she coasted down the last flight of stairs, the ground-floor door swung open. She snapped her gaze from her feet and lifted the weapon at her side. Ubrigg’s smug smile morphed into a snarl. He’d caught her.

“Man, slow the hell down!”

Brock ignored Rhett’s warning as he skulked along the side of the building. Pellets of rain landed on his bare shoulders and chest. The wind had picked up and the swirling breeze puckered his skin despite the fact that he wasn’t the least bit cold.

He was pissed.

Rhett’s elbow jabbed him in the side. Brock stopped and wheeled around to face him. Rhett wasn’t a small dude, and being in the FBI, he could probably fight like a ninja, so the fact that he wanted them to work at a snail’s pace and avoid the guards was mind-boggling.

“Dani’s in there. Ubrigg will be back by now, and he’ll be pissed I stood him up. The only reason he didn’t kill her before is because he wanted the flash drive.” He shook off the drops of water that rolled over his shoulder. “So tell me why you want to wait?”

Rhett tipped his head to the side. With the outside light attached to the building shining brightly over their heads, Brock could make out the annoyed pucker in Rhett’s chin. “I’m the only one with a gun. I’d prefer if you didn’t get your eager ass shot—if it comes down to getting you or Dani out of here alive, it’s her.”

Appreciation replaced his irritation. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He nodded toward the edge of the building and the front entrance. They couldn’t exactly go waltzing through it.

“How do we get in?”

Brock took a step back and surveyed the brick wall. The long grass tickled his ankles, and beads of water dampened his socks. Catching sight of a basement window, he took two long strides and dropped down beside it. He roamed his fingers over the edges of the casing. The basement sat above grade level, so the window was fairly large.

Rhett crouched beside him. “There could be an alarm.”

“Unless someone’s inside.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Brock nodded and held out his hand. “Don’t get any ideas, but I’m going to need your shirt.”

Rhett stiffened. “My shirt? What the hell for?”

“To break the glass. It’ll make less noise and, as you can see,” he said, gesturing down at himself, “I’m a little short on attire. I’d like to keep my pants if you don’t mind.”

“Keep your damn pants on,” Rhett grumbled. He whipped the shirt off his chest.