Page 25 of Stalked By Raiden

“I’ll tell him it was my decision.”

“Good luck with that.”

I laugh. “Drive safely.”

I stand on the sidewalk until she pulls out of the parking lot, lifting a hand in farewell before disappearing around the corner. The street suddenly feels much quieter. The tattoo shop is still open, warm lights glowing through the front windows.

I can almost picture Raiden inside, focused on a client. The thought makes me smile. I can imagine his dark expression at my walking home alone.

Home.

I gasp softly in panic as the realization settles. That Raiden has become home to me. I tighten my grip on my purse as I examine what it means. Suddenly, a dark SUV rolls smoothly to the curb. At first, I barely notice it.

People stop all the time to pick someone up after meetings. I take another step. Then, the rear passenger door flies open. Before my brain can make sense of what’s happening, two men burst out. One grabs my arm. The other clamps a hand over my mouth.

Fear explodes through my body. And the image of Raiden’s murderous expression crosses my mind. I try to scream, but the sound dies against his palm.

“No!” The word comes out muffled.

I kick wildly, my heel connecting with someone’s shin. A loud curse. For one hopeful second, I think I’ve broken free. Instead, powerful arms lift me completely off the ground. I claw at the man’s wrist, desperate for air.

The second man shoves me into the backseat, and the door slams shut. The locks click, and the SUV lurches forward so violently I’m thrown against the seat. My heart hammers so hard it hurts. The windows are darkly tinted, so I can’t see anything as the driver accelerates into traffic.

Every instinct screams one name.

Raiden.

He is waiting for my call. And I haven’t made it. I was so stupid to think he spent too much time worrying about me.

My heart clenches hard as I wonder if I will ever see him again.

Chapter Seven

Raiden

“I don’t like waiting.”

River doesn’t even look up from the pistol he’s cleaning. “No one does.”

I pace the length of the conference room for what feels like the hundredth time. The basement of 4R Ink looks nothing like the tattoo shop above it. The first time I found this abandoned level years ago, it was nothing but cracked concrete and rusted pipes.

Now it’s home base.

One hallway branches toward an armory stocked with locked cabinets, tactical gear, and medical supplies. Another leads to a gym that Roman insists everyone use, whether they want to or not. A lounge sits beside a small kitchenette, while a bunkroom occupies the far end of the basement for the nights we can’t leave.

The full bathroom has come in handy more times than I can count.

Then there’s the last room. The Cell. Concrete walls. A reinforced steel door. A single chair bolted to the floor. One camera mounted high in the corner, feeding directly into Royal’s monitoring station. None of us enjoys using it.

Sometimes, we don’t have a choice.

I stop outside its open doorway. “It’s ready.”

River joins me. “You’ve been setting that room up all afternoon.”

“I know.”

He studies me. “You think we’re getting Drake sooner than planned.”