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Hotel.”
    “I’m handling it.”  He brushed by Carson and headed outside.
    But Carson wasn’t one to be easily dissuaded. Carson followed right on Blake’s heels. “Sir, it looks as if the intruder searched inside your suite. I don’t think we’re just talking about an attack on your life. The man wanted something—”
    “He still wants something.” Blake’s car was waiting a few feet away.  “And the bastard thinks that he is going to use Jess in order to get it.”
    “What?”  Carson jumped in front of him. “What are you talking about?”
    Blake still had the phone in his left hand. He lifted it toward Carson. “Jess just called me.  She was screaming. That bastard has her, and I’m going to get her back.”
    Carson stared down at the phone. “The woman from last night?”
    “Yes.
Jess.”
She wasn’t just some woman. She wasn’t a random fuck.
She’s not like the others.
“He’s got her. And I’m
getting her back.”
    But when Blake stepped toward his car, Carson moved to block his path. “You need to calm the hell down, boss. This isn’t like you. Just tell me where the woman is, and I’ll get a team out there. There’s no way I can let you risk yourself like this. Especially not over some—”
    He shoved Carson out of his way. “Be very careful, Carson. Very careful, or I’ll forget the fact that I’ve considered you a friend for the last two years.”  His breath seemed to burn in his lungs.   
    Control. Get it the fuck back.
    Because, dammit, Carson was right. This
wasn’t
Blake. He didn’t run off wild. Well, he hadn’t, not in years. Not since he’d learned to keep his emotions under lockdown. Not since he’d traded in his dark past for the new life he’d made for himself.
    “They’re at the old motel past Wicked Ink…” He knew the tat parlor well. He’d gotten his ink done there.  “I go in, and a team can be there for back-up.”
    Worry etched deep lines onto Carson’s face. “You go in, and you could be dead before that back-up ever gets through the door.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “This is some girl you picked up last night. She’s not worth your life. We need the cops on this one. Dammit man,
this is crossing the line.
”
    Fury rose within him once more.  “You don’t know what Jess is worth.”  Blake didn’t, either, but he was starting to figure it out. “If the kidnapper sees the cops, he’ll kill her.”
    Carson’s breath heaved out. “Then they stay back.  You and I will go in—we
both
go in, got it?  And the cops can come in to clean up whatever hell is left when we’re done.” 
    Whatever hell is left…
    There wasn’t going to be much left.  Blake thought of the man who’d taken her.
If she’s dead, asshole, then so are you. So the fuck are you.

Chapter Four
    She wasn’t dead.
    Jess wasn’t sure how much longer she would actually be able to keep on breathing, but, for the moment, she was alive. And she was planning to fight for every moment that she had.
    The guy hadn’t used his knife on her again.  He actually hadn’t even come near her in the last twenty—thirty?—minutes.
    They were in some old, rundown motel.  The carpet on the floor was thread-bare, and the chipped ceiling was lined with spider-web like cracks. And the place smelled of piss.  
    He’d put them in two rooms, connecting rooms.  When he’d first walked away, she’d screamed, thinking that she might be able to alert some other folks in the motel.
    He’d laughed at her. Told her that they were all alone.
    Alone in hell.
    There were no lights in the room—she doubted now if the place had actual electricity. Sunlight spilled through the yellowed, cracked blinds that covered the window near the door.
    Her kidnapper had headed into the connecting room. She’d heard him call someone, but his voice had been muffled so she hadn’t been able to make out exactly what he said.
    While he’d been busy, she’d been using that precious time to try