Page 103 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

“Oh, hi, Mr. Merchant,” the tech said cheerily.

“I just wanted to ask why you left your equipment at the warehouse.”

“Oh yeah, ADA Grant said she wanted Evan to check it out. Apparently, he’s some hotshot hacker, and she’s real worried about security for the trial. We were supposed to go over the system today, but she got a call telling her she was needed back at the office.”

Fury coursed through Noah. “Why did you take the cases if you were leaving the tech?”

“I didn’t get that either, but Ms. Grant said the DA needed them for something, so I brought them with me.”

“Was Annabelle still in the room when you left?”

“Yeah, she was kinda wiped out though and kept yawning. Ms. Grant thought she was still fighting off the flu and said it was probably a good thing to give the prep a rest for the day. I hope she feels better soon.” He sounded genuinely concerned and definitely not like a man who was lying to cover his ass.

“The DA’s office isn’t far from the warehouse. Why are you heading to Houston Heights?”

“Oh, Ms. Grant asked me to drop off a package for her first. Said it was something important to do with the case. Wait! How do you know I’m going to Houston Heights?”

Noah ignored the question. “What address did she give you?”

He rattled it off, and Noah hung up, uncaring that he’d cut the man off.

“How much do you bet that this is the address Rodrigo was after?” he said to Rochelle.

“She wanted the tech to lead us to Eddie’s house,” Rochelle said as she performed another illegal turn, cutting through traffic, to get them on the right road back to the warehouse.

“Which means he probably isn’t there.” Noah felt sick to his stomach. He lifted the radio. “Everybody, back to the warehouse as fast as you can. I don’t give a crap what you do to get there. Just make it quick. The van’s a decoy. Annabelle’s still at the warehouse, and Eddie Hanson’s still unaccounted for. ADA Grant has gone missing, and it looks like she set this whole thing up.”

“What about Evan?” one of his brothers asked, a tremor in his voice. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Noah said, the weight of those words laying heavily on his soul. It was his fault Evan was in trouble. If he hadn’t jumped to conclusions, the geeky tech would never have been left alone in the warehouse.

Now, Evan and Annabelle were vulnerable. And Eddie Hanson knew exactly where to find them.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Aloud bang and a blinding light woke Annabelle. Her eyelids were too heavy to open all the way, which was fine because the light was far too bright anyway. She tried to lift her hand to shield her eyes, but her arm was just too weighty to move.

“About fucking time,” a voice said as a viselike grip wrapped around her upper arm and dragged her into the harsh light before releasing her just as quickly.

Annabelle sprawled on the floor, its wood rough against her cheek. She blinked, working to clear her head, but every thought felt like it took a million years to form, and then, when it did, it evaporated in less than a second.

Limbs shaking, she tried to push up from the old floorboards as a sense of familiarity about the unfinished floor began to register. She needed to sit. To stand. To get some perspective on her situation and surroundings. Her muscles had been replaced with wet noodles, and coordination was a word that had lost all of its meaning.

A rough hand grasped the hair at the back of her head and yanked upward, forcing her to face the man crouched beside her. His smile was empty, his eyes dark with hatred.

“I can’t believe something as fucking useless as you managed to bring me down.” He shoved her head back toward the floor.

Unable to stop the momentum, Annabelle’s face hit the hard wood, and she tasted blood.

Adrenaline coursed through her, counteracting the drug in her system, bringing strength to her muscles and clarity to her mind—if only a little. Awkward and ungainly, she crawled to the nearby table and used it to pull herself up onto her knees.

The room tilted, drifting in and out of focus as she watched the stranger pace in front of her. His movements jerky and tense, filled with rage.

Only, he wasn’t a stranger.

Not really.

She’d seen his image far too many times not to recognize him now that her brain was less foggy. Annabelle sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and cry.