Fast Burn. Lori Foster

tried to study each of them as they went up the stairs. Maybe something in their postures would trigger a memory, or if any of them had an unusual stride...

      Rough fingers again lifted her chin.

      This one particular kidnapper had a nasty habit of touching her far too often. She let him know it with a glare.

      In answer, he stepped closer, until his big feet were braced around hers, leaving her unable to shift away.

      It gave her the perfect opportunity to land a painful knee to the groin...but she didn’t dare.

      “Two guards will be outside this door.”

      Hmm... She said, “Yes?” in a way that sounded like a flippant “So?”

      “Don’t be stupid.”

      “Oh please. I am never stupid.” She lifted away from his hand and, trying not to look intimidated, took another bite.

      He didn’t back up. “I’m leaving orders for you to be tied and gagged if you give them any problems.”

      At least this time he didn’t threaten to take her clothes. She found some consolation in that.

      “I’m in a dungeon,” she complained. “What problems could I possibly cause? Now be nice and allow me to eat.”

      Shaking his head, he muttered, “Un-fucking-believable,” and joined his mates. A second later she heard a heavy door clang shut, then the unmistakable sound of a bolt sliding into place.

      The four walls tried to close in on her. The silence all but throbbed.

      A little creeped-out, Sahara ate a chip, wondering what to do next. It was so silent in the concrete room, the sound of the chip crunching seemed absurdly loud.

      After that last threat, they probably thought she’d wait quietly.

      Unfortunately for them, patience definitely wasn’t one of her virtues.

      * * *

      BRAND ZIGZAGGED IN closer to the building, pausing every so often and surveying the area with the night-vision binoculars Leese had given him. Under a lightweight jacket he wore a utility vest with Justice’s Glock in an inside pocket; in another was a knife along with a Taser, nylon cuffs and additional ammo that Enoch had taken from their inventory.

      The Body Armor supply area was more like an arsenal, with multiple weapons in a locked room next to the shooting range, where bodyguards practiced against targets.

      Miles’s voice burst into his brain straight through a wireless over-the-ear headset. “You there yet?”

      “Yeah.” He saw some activity, four guys coming out, barely visible beneath dirty security lights. They kept their heads down, but black masks dangled in their hands. “Four men.”

      “What are they doing?”

      “Scoping out the area. Wait...they went back inside but I hear an engine.” He stared hard at the dark gap visible in the crumbling brick building. Seconds later, headlights came on and a white van pulled out. “They’re in a white van.” He read the license, repeating the numbers to Miles.

      “Sahara said six, so there are at least two more still in there. Were you able to make out their faces?”

      “No. The building looks abandoned and there’s only one light. This whole area is gone, everything shut down. Other than some junkies in the alley and a vagrant passed out on a stoop, I didn’t see anyone at all.”

      “It’s after ten,” Miles said, meaning that they’d had Sahara for over three hours already. “If they’re leaving now, it might not be for long since the exchange isn’t supposed to happen until midnight.”

      “Maybe they want to go over the location again.”

      “That’s exactly what Leese is doing. They’re liable to run into each other.”

      “Let him know.” Brand lowered the binoculars. “I’m going in.”

      “They could be coming right back.”

      “All the more reason.” No way in hell would he leave Sahara in there any longer than necessary.

      Miles didn’t argue. “I’ll get hold of Leese and let him know, but keep the line open.”

      “Will do.” Miles was nearby, positioned at a higher vantage point, there if necessary and to hell with being recognized.

      Justice would tail Leese, far enough away not to be seen but close enough to get to him quickly if needed.

      Enoch was back at the office, able to track Sahara up to a point if the cell failed to pick up the signal.

      The storm had finally let up, leaving everything sodden, bringing with it a deep chill. Brand hadn’t changed clothes so he was still in jeans and running shoes but now he had the vest and concealing jacket over his T-shirt.

      “And, Brand? If you find there are more than two guys, don’t do it alone.”

      “I can handle two.” Hell, the way he felt right now, he could handle four. “If I need help, you’ll know it.”

      They said nothing else as Brand made his way from alley to alley, shadow to shadow. As he ducked into one building, rats scurried behind him. He knew he shouldn’t rush, but thinking of Sahara, what she might be going through, ate him up. He had to put that from his mind or he’d charge hell-bent into the building and damn the consequences.

      He wasn’t worried for himself. He’d die for her if that’s what it took.

      But he wouldn’t risk her.

      By the time he slipped through the same open garage door that the other men had exited, he’d regained his methodical control. Oppressive blackness filled the space, with little light penetrating from the street and a dank cold that sank into his bones.

      Somewhere in this miserable hellhole, they have Sahara.

      Using the night vision on the binoculars, he silently, stealthily, explored for ten minutes without finding any signs of her.

      Knowing the others could return at any moment, frustration mounted...until he heard a man’s muted laugh.

      Senses on high alert, he followed the sound, glad now for the rubber soles. The sounds echoed, making the noise hard to trace, but when the laugh came again, followed by low conversation, it led him to a heavy door, thankfully open, then to stairs and another door, this one partially closed.

      Brand peered through the narrow crack and saw two big men talking in front of yet another door—that one bolted.

      “Those fucking heels she wears. Goddamn, they’re hot.” One man cupped a hand over his crotch. “You saw what they did for her ass while she paced?”

      “Am I blind?” His friend chuckled. “Not that an ass like hers needs any help. If she wasn’t so fucking mouthy, she’d be perfect.”

      “I like the idea of gagging her. She wouldn’t be so hoity-toity then.”

      The other guy checked his watch. “Give her a few more minutes. She won’t be able to stay quiet for much longer and then we can do as we please.”

      A snort, then, “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

      “You heard what he said.”

      “Yeah, and I know the threat was for her, not an excuse for you to paw her.”

      Fury rose up. Brand wished like hell one of them would have used a name, but they were too busy fantasizing over ways to torment Sahara.

      He knew in his gut that she was behind that locked door.

      “Maybe if this rolls out as it should, he’ll let us have some fun with her before—”

      Going for the element of surprise, Brand left the gun in his