Page 126 of Jonas

When she did, they locked onto mine. Concern and anger mixed in her dark blue eyes, and I’d bet I just met the real Stella. The woman she didn’t want anyone to know existed. A woman who felt worried for a sister she barely knew but on some level liked, and maybe even cared about, and anger that woman was in danger.

Jesus. Derrika had been right along.

“Kira, run Cherri Jackson. See if she has any other rentals in her name.” Cash paused. “Yeah, Lore had a good—” Another pause. “Thanks. Reroute Zane and Easton. But warn Zane, we’re not waiting to go in. Jonas will—” Another infuriating pause.

“Jonas will what?” I snapped.

Cash finished with, “Text me.” Then hung up.

“Cash, what?”

“Kira found two other properties in Cherri Jackson’s name. One is an apartment. The other is a commercial lease in Jessup. Kira says it’s about thirty minutes north of here.”

“Let’s go.” Then with my stomach full of poison and regret, I told Cash, “You’re driving.”

“She’s thirty minutes away,” Lore said as we jogged to their Escalade.

What she didn’t mention was: we were thirty minutes away if we were right and Cherri was Natalie. And another big if they took her there.

But right now, I’d take it.

If was better than nothing.

We have plans, Jonas. Falling in love to do, memories to make, more kisses to share, nights making love, morning showers, swims in the creek, loads of stuff I can’t wait to share with you.

Loads of stuff.

With a mountain of guilt weighing me down, I jumped into Cash’s SUV.

Doors slammed.

Cash tossed his phone at Lore. “You navigate.”

“Roger, captain.”

Then Cash did what Cash did best—drove like we were dodging IEDs in Baghdad. For once, my nausea wasn’t from him weaving in and out of traffic at speeds that would impress a NASCAR driver.

No, the bile clogging my throat was fear. The kind I hadn’t felt since I was a child. Only worse because now I unequivocally knew what real monsters were capable of—and right then, Derrika was facing down a monster and I wasn’t there to help.

We have plans Jonas, falling in love to do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Do you prefer Amy or Derrika?” Natalie asked.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I continued my slow perusal of what would normally be nothing more than an innocent mechanic shop, complete with car lift, toolboxes, and greasy workbenches. Now, however, it was a smorgasbord of torture devices.

My discussion with Lore about pliers and tearing out fingernails immediately came to mind. I was sure there were pliers in one of those toolboxes—hammers, too. And I knew for a fact there were zip ties because they’d been procured from one of those boxes, then used to secure my wrists and ankles and to an old metal chair. Well, not my wrists—those were zipped behind my back and I was ninety-nine percent sure Keith Mitchell had dislocated my shoulder when he not-so-gently wrenched my arm back while telling me, “If you kick me again, I’ll break it.” I stopped kicking him, but not because he threatened to break my arm. Jun De Chen pointing a gun at my head had made me stop struggling.

To his credit, Jun De didn’t go all James Bond villain and introduce himself. I knew it was him from the picture Kira had found of him and John Wu.

Keith Mitchell scared me. The MSS agent in the room scared the fuck out of me. I’d bet out of the three of my captors, Jun De knew all the best ways to torture someone, and I doubted he’d start with pliers and fingernails.

Natalie stepped closer, bent at the waist, and snarled, “Answer me.”

Go fuck yourself.

A jab to my solar plexus had me gasping for breath.