the table. “I feel awful.”
“Damn it, where is she?” Daniel grabbed D’Angelis’s shoulders and forced him to look up.
The man’s eyes were completely bloodshot and watery.
“Basement.”
“Basement of what?” He shook D’Angelis, trying to get him to focus and tell him the rest of the address.
“House on East Cabbarus Street,” the man said.
“Which house? What address?” Daniel demanded.
“Sixty-two fifty.” D’Angelis’s head lolled and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His body went limp and he slid out of his chair onto the floor.
“Damn.” Thad ran for the door. “Get a medic in here!”
Daniel pushed the chair away from the fallen man and squatted beside him on the floor, loosening the zipper on the orange jumpsuit.
D’Angelis’s hand grabbed his wrist and he raised his head long enough to say, “Don’t trust—” He choked on the phlegm in his throat and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, then he coughed again and passed out.
The door burst open. Two paramedics raced in and bent over D’Angelis. Daniel and Thad left the room, moving to the side of the hallway to get out of the way of the emergency staff.
They entered the room where Kate, Trey, Sam, Patrick and Jed Kincannon, the director of the Secret Service, stood watching the staff work on Robert D’Angelis’s inert form.
“What happened?” Kate’s hand rested on her throat. “One minute he was all cocky, the next he seemed to fail in front of us.”
“I don’t know,” Thad said.
“I do.” Daniel nodded to Thad. “We’re going to Cabarrus Street to find Shelby O’Hara.”
Daniel led the way out of the county jail.
Thad followed, dialing for assistance from the Raleigh Police Department dispatch.
When they got outside, Daniel remembered they’d come in Kate Winston’s limousine. “We can’t go in that, and Mrs. Winston can’t go with us.”
“Take my vehicle.” Trey tossed the keys. “I’ll stay with Mother to make sure nothing happens to her.”
“Thanks.” Daniel caught the keys and ran for Trey’s car, Thad on his heels.
“Shouldn’t we wait for backup?” Thad asked.
“If Shelby’s captors get wind that we’re on the way, they might kill her before backup arrives.”
“Give me the keys.” Thad held up his hand.
Daniel hesitated only a moment. As a member of the Raleigh Police Department, Thad would know the streets better than Daniel, who’d only been in Raleigh a couple months since he’d been assigned to protect Kate Winston. He hopped into the passenger seat as Thad twisted the key in the ignition.
In seconds, they’d pulled out of the parking lot and raced away from the jail. “It’s only half a mile from here. We’ll be there before the police can get a patrol car there.”
Daniel removed his gun from his holster, checked to ensure a bullet had been chambered and braced himself for arrival at their destination.
* * *
Shelby Raye O’Hara rubbed the plastic zip tie that bound her wrists on the ragged edge of a broken brace she’d ripped from the wooden chair she sat on. Her wrists chafed and bled where she’d scraped them across the splintered wood. For fourteen days she’d been confined in the dark room, tallied by the number of meals she’d been granted and what was provided. Mornings were stale bagels and bottled water. In the late afternoons, she was given a bologna sandwich and more water.
The men wearing masks who’d grabbed her on her way out of the Beth City University Library hadn’t spoken a word to her. They hadn’t explained why she’d been kidnapped and hadn’t given her a chance to change their minds.
From what she could tell, she was being held in a basement, the concrete brick walls as solid as they came and no windows to let sunshine in. One light shone down on her when the men fed her or allowed her to use the facilities in a small corner bathroom. There, she’d managed to finger brush her teeth, wash her face with the single bar of soap and duck her head under the faucet to scrub her hair every other day. Spit baths were a blessing, but she’d give anything for a real soak in a hot tub.
So far, they hadn’t used any violence against her, but the conditions were far from the Ritz and she was tired of being kept in the dark physically and mentally. And if she didn’t see another bologna sandwich in her lifetime, it would be too soon.
What bothered her almost as much was knowing how frantic her grandfather would be by now. She’d promised to be home by midnight. Two weeks ago, she’d been researching case studies for a paper she was writing for her graduate degree in counseling.
God, she’d be so far behind on her coursework if she got back.
When she got back.
She worked the plastic tie harder, refusing to give up, her skin slippery with her own blood. By the rumbling in her belly, it was close to dinnertime. One of her guards would be down with her meal soon. If she could get loose before he came...
The zip tie snapped and her wrists flew apart, the pressure and pain lessening immediately.
Hope surged, along with adrenaline.
The lock on the door jiggled, heralding another visit from her silent jailors who would undoubtedly be bringing her the bottled water and bologna sandwich.
Shelby hid the broken brace beneath her thigh and sat in the chair, slumped over, as if she’d fallen asleep.
The door opened, and light shone down the stairs, the beam stopping short of where she waited. If she could get past one guard, she’d have a chance of getting out of the basement. The other guard would be waiting at the top of the stairs.
She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. First, she’d take care of the bologna man.
He wore his requisite mask and carried a flashlight in one hand and the sandwich and water in the other.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he crossed to her, shining the bright beam across her face.
Shelby feigned sleep, her head drooping low, her hair sweeping over her cheeks, shadowing her eyes. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to strike.
Her guard bent to place the water bottle and sandwich on the floor by her feet.
With all the force she could muster, she kicked her feet up, caught the guard on the chin and sent him tumbling backward onto his backside.
The flashlight flew out of his hand toward the stairs.
Shelby leaped over the man’s flailing
