The Missing

the girl. The girl’s eyes stared at her, but Taige knew the girl saw nothing. She’d retreated into the safety of her mind. Whether or not she’d ever come out was something that only time would tell. At least she’s alive . . . But Taige knew there could easily come a time when the girl didn’t share that sentiment.

    Taige had experienced brutality at the hands of her uncle before, but never anything like this. Not in her worst nightmares. “We need to get her up,” she said, her voice hoarse. It hurt to speak, hell, it hurt to even breathe. She pulled the phone from her belt and punched in 911. After calling for an ambulance and the police, she disconnected and then called Jones.

    The team would be there in another fifteen minutes, and after he told her that, Jones laid into her for going in alone. Just as before, she glanced at Cullen and told her boss, “I’m not alone.”

    “One of these days, you’ll find yourself in a mess that we can’t get you out of,” Jones said. He had the same tone that a principal would have used on a recalcitrant student, and Taige cared for it about as much as that student would have.

    “Kiss ass, Jones,” she said sourly, and then she disconnected before he could start demanding some kind of status report.

    The status is that my sorry, son-of-a-bitching uncle is still breathing. Fighting to control her rage, she glanced back at Leon again. He still lay on the ground, moaning, his breath whistling through his busted nose.

    At the moment, he was unconscious. More than anything, she wanted to pull the Glock at her side, level it at his head, and pump him full of lead. She wanted it with an intensity that scared her.

    Hatred—finally, Taige understood the hatred that had driven him, and it was that knowledge alone that kept her from pulling her gun. She wanted him dead too much to do it herself.

    “Watch him.”

    Cullen smirked. “Great idea, baby. Like I don’t want to finish him off myself.”

    Despite herself, she laughed. “Kind of like asking the wolf to guard the sheep,” she murmured as she approached the girl, staying where she could see the girl’s face. That way, the girl could see her—in theory. But she was lying there, still, motionless, her eyes not even tracking Taige’s movements. “God help her,” she whispered softly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. He can’t hurt you again. He can’t hurt you . . .”

    Nothing Taige did or said had any effect. The girl didn’t so much as blink when Taige touched her, and if it wasn’t for the warmth of her flesh and the blood still trickling from the open wounds on her back, Taige would have been checking for a pulse. Her pupils were mere pinpricks, and her breathing came in short, shallow pants. “She’s in shock,” she muttered grimly.

    Damn it.

    She didn’t how what in the hell do for her other than free her. Rolling her onto her back would be best, so Taige could elevate the girl’s feet, but her back looked like raw meat, crisscrossed with so many open, bleeding cuts. “Can you carry her out of here?” Taige asked quietly. The ambulance would be there soon, but Taige just couldn’t let her remain on the table another second. She went to work on the thick leather straps, freeing the ones at her waist and thighs first. The blood on the straps and the tears in Taige’s eyes made it slow going.

    “Should we move her?” Cullen asked softly.

    Her voice shook as she answered, “I don’t know. But we can’t leave her here.” She finally got the first strap undone and went to work on another. Cullen moved around to the girl’s feet and started working the ankle straps.

    The girl finally made a sound, a soft, broken little moan. Taige wanted to touch her, reassure her somehow. But she had a feeling that anything she did would make it worse. So instead of touching her, she murmured, “It’s okay, sugar. He can’t hurt you.”

    She finished the wrist strap and looked up to see Cullen freeing the last ankle strap. Looking into his eyes was like looking clear into hell. There was rage there, something deep and fathomless. His eyes burned into Taige’s, and she watched as he slowly turned his head, his eyes seeking out Leon’s battered body.

    Leon stirred.

    A feral snarl twisted Cullen’s features, and she watched as the air around him turned dark and red with rage. The power of his fury broke through his natural mental shields, and it pushed her back a step or two. Worse, it