She was in the middle of typing when she heard her doorbell. The sound had her sitting upright, turning as though she might be able to see through her apartment and out into the hall. Since clearly that wasn’t going to work, she set her phone and glass down on the table, hopped to her feet.
Probably Leah, stopping by to talk. She’d been out of sorts tonight, on the outs with her boyfriend of five years. Cori had tried to tell her she was far too young to think about settling down with a man she’d been dating since she was a teenager, but Leah never listened.
“Coming,” she shouted when the doorbell sounded again.
Pressing her eye to the security hole, she peeked out, saw a familiar face, and frowned.
After unlatching the door locks, she slowly pulled the door open only to realize the mistake, but it was too late.
He stepped forward, making a retreat impossible, filling her doorway while aiming a gun directly at her.
“Good to see you again, Corinne. I think it’s time we take a little trip.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, wishing like hell she hadn’t unlocked the door. “How’d you know where I live?”
“I keep track of the pretty ones,” he said, his voice almost as creepy as his words.
He waved the gun in the direction of the floor.
“Shoes. Now, Corinne. Don’t make me shoot you.”
He was serious. She could see the intent in his eyes, her entire body trembling as fear lit a fire in her veins.
“Now!” he barked.
The violent sound had her jumping, even as she stepped back and grabbed her shoes off the floor. He held the door open with his foot, remained in the hallway while she pulled them on.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Where’s your cell phone?”
Shit. She’d left her cell on the back porch.
“I left it inside,” she told him.
“Good. Now be a good little girl,” he crooned, sliding his arm over her shoulder as he let the apartment door swing shut behind them. “Don’t make me kill you, Corinne. Such a waste if I have to.”
It was sheer terror that had her moving with him, letting him guide her to the elevators. She knew this was a mistake. If he got her to a secondary location, he would kill her, right? That was the way this always played out?
Swallowing the cold lump of fear, Cori turned and peered up at the camera while they waited for the elevator. Not sure what else to do, praying someone was watching, she mouthed the words help me.
Unfortunately, no one did.
Chapter Eleven
The harsh ring of his cell phone roused Brantley from a deep sleep, had him rolling over, dragging the pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the sound and the light filtering in through the blinds.
A big hand smacked him on the chest. “Phone.”
“I know,” he mumbled into the pillow.
“Answer it?”
“It’ll stop.”
Only it didn’t. Damn thing kept right on ringing. One second there’d be blessed silence, then the harsh shrill sound would start again. He really needed to change that fucking ringer. Or better yet, put the damn thing on silent.
Tossing the pillow to the floor, Brantley threw out an arm, snagged the phone, and punched the button, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Walker,” he grumbled.
“Brantley. Oh, thank God you answered. We need your help.”
The agitated voice had sleep vanishing as he forced his eyes open, focused on the ceiling fan making a slow turn. “What’s wrong, JJ?”
“It’s Cori. Dante’s mom can’t get ahold of her. She went out last night with some of her friends, never came home. He called me. Said his mother’s freaking out. She thinks… Oh, God, Brantley, she thinks somethin’ happened.”
Sitting up, he came fully awake, dropping his legs over the side of the bed. “Calm down, JJ. Tell me what happened.”
While she rattled off more fear than details, the words managed to clear the fog from Brantley’s brain.
“And Dante called you?” he asked.
“He didn’t know who else to call. Asked that I reach out to you.”
“Okay. Where are you?”
“I’m at home. I told him I’d call you. Please tell me you’ll help.”
“Of course, yes,” Brantley assured her, because what else was he going to do? While he wanted to put Dante through a wall for the shit he pulled with JJ, it wasn’t like he could refuse to help the man’s family. “I’ll call him, give you a call back.”
“Okay.”
Squinting, he pulled up Dante’s number, which he’d logged a couple of months ago when he’d reached out to the man. He hit the button to dial.
Dante answered immediately. “I tried her cell phone,” he blurted, his voice trembling. “But it just rings. Says the voicemail’s full. Something’s wrong, Brantley. I know how much you hate me, how—”
“This isn’t about you,” Brantley bit out. “It’s about Corinne.”
