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"Yeah?"

"It's gonna be alright Leah's a fighter"

He was counting on it

Confirhter she was caed up front door to his house His living rooht Furniture was turned over Pictures that had been on the shelves were on the floor in pieces Shit was tossed everywhere Worst of all, Leah's Doc Marten boots were abandoned in the middle of the mess The woman herself was nowhere to be found What was in his house was a bright yellow Post-it note stuck to his TV that read: 555-438-6821

He grabbed his phone, but instead of dialing that number he called the B-Squad office and had Lexie patch hih to Isaac

"They have her," he said by way of greeting

"Motherfuckers," Isaac yelled over the sound of the helicopter "So what's the plan?"

Drew took another look at that Post-it note and certainty settled over hi to le hair on Leah's head is hurt, I' part"

Leah

Warren Law did not look like Leah's e of the head of an international jewelry theft ring He wore pleated Dockers and a pressed golf shirt If this were afriend as actually the heroine's insane stalker because she'd had the audacity to turn hio had been haruy-asshole type

Warren stopped in front of the kitchen chair she was tied to and peered down at her She had to make quite the picture since she was Duct taped to the chair, had a length of the silver tape across her e of it in her peripheral vision If she could have flipped him off or snarled out a smart ass relare at hi chuckle

Warren patted her on the head and turned back to the shitbag of a dirty FBI agent "I' to think she's not that important to him"

"She is," Curtis said, his voice sounding funny since he'd stuffed gauze up his broken nose

Warren went stiff "Are you telling ?"

"No, sir" Curtis's gaze dropped to the floor and he took a step back from the other ether It's like they're an old ular"