Page 18 of Rescued

“You’re my favorite minion, Sugar Baby.”

“If you call me that again, I’ll eviscerate you.” Sugar hung up.

That settled, Switch logged onto the mainframe and started contacting his sources for dirt on Moreno.

Chapter 8

When Breanna woke up she was alone, in Switch’s bed. Sometime during the night, he must have carried her in here. She hadn’t felt a thing.

Everything was totally quiet.

For a few blissful moments, she felt warm and rested and safe. And then her situation came crashing in on her.

She was stuck in a compound full of scary-looking mercenaries and wolves. With no transportation, no way out, nowhere to go, and nothing but an evening dress. And her bag.

Her bag!

She sat up and looked wildly around the room, then breathed a sigh of relief. There it was, sitting in the corner where she’d left it, next to the battered dresser.

She scrambled out of bed and grabbed it. For a minute she just held it to her chest, and then she tiptoed to the doorway. There was no sign of Switch—nothing but a crumpled-up blanket on the couch. No one in the bathroom.

He must have gone out.

She went back into the bedroom and closed the door, then sat down cross-legged on the bed. She dumped everything out onto the rumpled covers: makeup, tissues, receipts, wallet.

All the way at the bottom of the bag, hidden in the folds of the lining, was an almost-invisible zipper that concealed a hidden compartment in the center divider of the bag.

She unzipped it and felt for the fat manila envelope inside the compartment. There it was. She knew it was crazy to pull it out—if it was still there, then everything in it was still there too.

But she couldn’t help herself.

Listening to make sure Switch wasn’t coming back, she slid the envelope out and looked inside.

Something inside her unclenched when she saw the documents, the fake passport, and the impossibly slim phone in its special case. A Faraday case, it was called. One that blocked electronic signals, so no one could track the phone or activate it remotely, unless she took it out.

They’d gotten two phones like this from the man Quentin had made them steal from. Kimberly had the other one.

But it was the documents that were dynamite. They were the key to millions of dollars in untraceable cash—and she was pretty sure they were what Quentin Moreno wanted back.

No one could know she had them. They were her ticket to safety, to a better life. Not Wal-Mart cashier in some podunk little town just like the one she’d escaped, scraping by on the edge of poverty forever.

Real security, for the very first time.

All she needed was to lose Quentin long enough to get to an international airport, get an overseas ticket, and use what she had.

Then she could disappear forever. Her and Kimberly both.

She got a stab of worry in her stomach, thinking about Kimberly, and hoped that somehow she’d gotten away. But there was only one way to know, and that was to check the phone for messages.

She ran her fingers over it, biting her lip. If she took the phone out and used it, it could be traced. But if she didn’t—if Kimberly needed her…

She held her breath for a moment, then let it out and powered up the phone. She’d be super-quick, but she had to know.

As soon as the phone booted up, she pulled it out of the case and watched until it got a signal. She checked the message app. Waited five seconds, ten, fifteen, twenty. Nothing.

She couldn’t keep it on any longer. Fingers fumbling, she slipped it back in the case and powered it off.

Then she held her breath, listening, like Quentin was going to burst in here any second. But of course no one did.