Perfect Match (Vice Club Nights #2)

25. Gio

Chapter twenty-five

Gio

“ I s that the place?” I ask from the front seat of Ryan’s Maybach. The only light in or out of the vehicle is coming from the cloud-shrouded three-quarter moon above.

“Yep,” Tony answers, leaning forward from the back seat to pop his head between us.

We continue to sit in silence, three sets of eyes trained on the red-brick warehouse up ahead. The only sign of life is a faint yellow light straining to shine through the cracks of a boarded-up second-story window. It lends truth to Tony’s assurance that this is the right building. Why else would an apparently disused warehouse have a light on inside.

From the gap between the warehouse of our focus and the building next door, a shadowy figure appears.

“Down,” Ryan mutters, and we all slide low in our seats. The guy is facing away from us, and the chances of him noticing one black SUV parked in a long line of other cars is slim, but still, we don’t take any chances. Barely able to see above the dashboard, I watch the guy flip the hood from his sweatshirt off before tugging what looks like a balaclava from his head. He’s shoving it deep in his pocket when a car coming the other way catches him in its beams. He ducks his head but not quick enough.

“I know that fucker,” Ryan growls. From his reclined position, he has a better view out the side window. His fists clench the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip. “It’s fucking Brad, the ex who attacked Charli outside the club months ago.” His low voice is ominous as it’s dragged out through gritted teeth.

Squinting, I try to find recognition in the man’s profile, but I’ve got nothing. He turns fully away and starts to walk in the opposite direction. His stride is long and brisk like he’s being chased by an unseen foe. He should be fucking scared and running.

“He got the wrong sister,” I mumble through a clenched jaw, and it’s more to myself than the others in the car. The urge to hunt the fucker down gnaws at my gut, gangrenous and raw.

As if sensing my desire for revenge, Ryan tilts his head in my direction. “I warned him to stay away or else he’d have to deal with me,” Ryan growls, each word punched from his throat with a similar promise of retribution. “Now he’s got two of us seeking revenge. Stupid bastard.”

I nod back at him, knowing our time will come to teach that spineless fucker a very painful lesson. He’s obviously recruited someone else to do his dirty work, because there is nothing about Brad that resembles the guy Tori described as her attacker.

“Do you want me to grab him?” Tony asks, already zipping up his black hoodie before searching in the duffel bag on the floor at his feet for something that I’m sure it’s best I don’t know.

“Yes,” Ryan’s quick to reply, “And, Gio, those contacts of yours, are they nearby?”

How did he know I’d already sent my associates the address?

“They’re one block over.”

“Send them this photo, and ask them to assist Tony.” My cell pings with a fuzzy closeup photo of Brad that I didn’t even see him take. He continues, “Tony can deliver the asshole to them for safekeeping until we get Tori back.”

The tension in my body loosens, knowing the bastard behind all this won’t be getting very far tonight.

My fingers fly through the text, and by the time I’ve finished typing out the message, Tony seems to have slipped silently out of the back seat and disappeared into the night.

Ryan turns sideways, his sharp features in shadowed relief. His mouth is set in a grim slash across the lower half of his face, and his gaze is a steely gray. “When we go in, follow close unless I tell you to wait. If we’re going to do this, you need to do everything I say. No questions. Understood?”

Ryan didn’t originally want me here, but there was no chance that I was going to stay away when the woman I love is being held captive by some crazed lunatic with a death wish.

“Understood,” I repeat without hesitation.

He nods, a single sharp movement, before continuing, “And when we find them. I’ll take the guy, and your job is to find Tori. Tori is the priority, and you need to get her the hell out of there as quickly as you can. Don’t wait for me, just go.” He stares at me unflinching, and it’s a little unnerving. He means business, and all traces of the man I’ve called a friend for more than five years have disappeared. It doesn’t take much to imagine what kind of operative Ryan was on the battlefields, and I’m glad he’s here beside me.

“Now let’s go get her.”

We both exit the car, dashing across the empty street to hide in the shadows at the side of the warehouse. The same alleyway that Brad exited from a short while ago. The pounding beat of heavy machinery comes to us through the walls of the building on the other side, just like Tori described.

Ryan moves swiftly down the dark, narrow corridor between the buildings, hugging the outer wall of the warehouse, and I follow closely. At the end, he peers around the corner of the building. It’s even darker here, as the thin sliver of moonlight is hidden behind another shadowy brick monolith. But the darkness is our friend—the perfect cloak for us to hide beneath.

“Wait here. There could be a camera or motion detector,” he whispers before sliding around the corner. I watch him move a little way along, then stop, his back plastered to the rough, grainy surface. No lights come on, and he gestures for me to join him. A metal-grated window sits at his shoulder, and he pulls some kind of a monocular gadget from the side pocket of his black cargo pants, which he carefully feeds between the diamond-patterned grill. Then, bending, he scans the area inside before he passes it to me to do the same. The telltale green light of night vision illuminates the inky blackness. The open area is empty except for a scattering of broken furniture and rubbish on the concrete floor.

“Do you see the lit alcove in the far corner? That’s the stairs,” Ryan whispers close to me. “When we go in, we’re going to go straight to the dark shadows against the wall. But follow my path. Move quickly and quietly. Ready?”

I nod as I hand him back the gadget.

He crab walks close to the wall, no more than a few feet separating us. When he reaches the door, he fiddles with the handle.

Click, click, click. And then he twists it, and it pops open. Cracking the door wider, he slips inside, and I follow. My eyes have adjusted to the dim light, but inside the warehouse, it’s hard to see more than a few feet in front of my face. I’m grateful to have had the night vision view before stepping into the darkness, and by sticking close to Ryan, who is directed by the monocular, we make it across the open space without a problem.

My heart pounds in my chest and my body buzzes like a swarm of bees has taken up residence beneath the top layer of skin. It’s a new kind of torture, knowing that Tori is close, maybe hurt, but not yet able to reach her, and it hurts a thousand times worse than the last three months without her.

With his back plastered to the wall, Ryan peers around the corner before moving. I inch forward, mimicking him. Subdued lighting filters down from the floors above, so I can see him clearer on the opposite side of the stairs.

He beckons for me to join him, and when I do, he inches toward a door at the end of a short hallway. He cracks it open, then pushes it wider, not stepping inside as I look beyond him. It’s a bathroom similar to the one Tori described, but there’s no mattress in the corner.

Ryan glances at his cell, which displays a floor plan. “Each level is the same layout, so up we go. Slowly.”

With the snick of the door shutting, we return to the bottom of the stairs.

“Wait,” he commands again. I’m starting to hate the sound of that one word, and each time, it’s getting harder and harder to obey. But I have to put my trust in Ryan’s training and experience, as his decisions in these next minutes will determine how safely we can get in and get Tori out.

A spike of adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I’m grateful for the hit because it stops me from imagining Tori lying hurt in this building.

From the platform at the top of the first set of stairs, Ryan gestures with a small, quick wave of his hand, and as I ascend, he turns to continue up the second set. The soft sound of music or a TV on low volume can be heard above the machine’s rhythm next door. It’s not this level, but I’d bet the one above. At the top of the second set of stairs, Ryan is already checking the first-floor bathroom. It’s empty, he indicates with a nod of his head. For a brief moment, my hope sours, then drops like a stone.

We stand side by side in the shadows, listening and waiting for an interminable length of time that, in reality, is probably only minutes. And when he touches his hand to my arm, I jump.

For the first time, the stern line of his mouth bends up. “Game time,” he mouths then, “Wait for my go .”

I nod, then watch—hopefully for the last time—as he makes his way up the seven steps to the platform. His footsteps light and soundless against the wood.

This shit has gotten real, and I replay Ryan’s words from the car. Tori is the priority . He didn’t need to say that twice; she will always be my priority.

Statue still in the shadow, I listen. A muffled grunt. A bump of something solid hitting the wood floor above me. My breath catches, and when I hear Ryan shouting, “Go, go, go,” it whooshes from my lungs, and I sprint up the stairs two at a time. I’m at the doorway to the bathroom in seconds, but this time, the door is open, and Tori’s limp, still body is lying half in and out.

My heart stops, turning instantly to ice, and I freeze in my tracks.

No. No, no, no. This isn’t how I imagined finding her.

But in my head, I hear Ryan’s words, as clear as if he was yelling them at me now. Get her the hell out of there as quickly as you can.

I scoop her body into my arms. She’s warm to the touch, the only thing I notice before I’m racing back down the stairs to level one, then the ground. I’m out the door, into the cool night air, and back along the alleyway when I swear I hear a groan fall from her lips. My legs pump hard as I run across the road to the car. Tony has returned and is holding the door to the back seat open. I ease in, with Tori still cradled close to my chest.

“Is she okay?” Tony asks.

“I’m not sure,” I croak out, a lump the size of a boulder lodged in my throat. I look down into the battered and bruised face of the woman I love, noticing dried blood streaked across her cheek and congealed around a cut in her hairline. With a feather-soft touch, I brush her mattered hair back from her face.

“Tori, can you hear me?”

Her lids flicker and then open to narrow slits, a grimace pinching her features in pain. But her cracked lips attempt a smile. “Gio?”

My name on her lips has never sounded more beautiful. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you, and you’re safe.” A tear trickles down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her eyes closing on a fresh set of tears. And a few of my own spill to mix with them when I lower my face over hers to gently kiss the corner of her lip that doesn’t appear to be hurt or swollen. I hate feeling powerless when she’s in pain.

The front door opens with such force that it’s a wonder the hinges don’t give way. Ryan slides into the seat, his bloodied fists curling around the steering wheel. “Is she okay?” he asks just as Tony did.

“I think so. But we need to get her to my private doctor.” My gaze never leaves Tori. I never want to let her out of my sight again.

“Where’s that?” Ryan asks while starting the car. I give him directions, and at this early hour, there aren’t a lot of cars about, so it doesn’t take long. By the time Ryan has pulled up to the entrance of the private hospital, I’ve called my doctor, and he is waiting with a nurse and a wheelchair to take Tori straight through. Money talks in this town, and I’ve never been more grateful.