Free Eye of the Storm by C. J. Lyons Page A

voice in the darkness, maybe she could survive if she could talk to Muriel.
    “If I wanted her dead, she’d be dead,” Kasanov said flatly.
    The driver bent and cuffed her ankles with another set of zip ties, lifted her off her feet, and shoved her into the confined space. Cassie resisted, bucking her body, blocking the lid from being closed.
    “I don’t have all day.” Kasanov raised the radio to his lips.
    Swallowing a whimper, Cassie lowered herself the remainder of the way into the trunk before he could tell his comrades to hurt Muriel again. He grinned down at her, her last sight before the roof slammed shut.
    If I die, he’ll kill Muriel too. She fought for breath. The space stunk of gasoline, rubber, and spoiled meat as if some small furry creature had crawled in here to die. Guess that meant she wasn’t alone, Cassie thought as hysteria threatened to overwhelm her defenses.
    The car started and they lurched forward. Her body, already contorted in a painful position, was now slammed and bounced against hard surfaces as they traveled. A surge of nausea rose in Cassie’s stomach and she clamped her jaw shut, swallowing the bile. Her hands and feet grew numb while painful stabs of muscle cramps shot through the rest of her body.
    She almost didn’t notice the pain; it was the least of her worries as panic overtook her.
    Dead, she was dead. There was nothing she could do, couldn’t breathe, her heart pounding so hard it was going to leap from her chest, couldn’t even swallow, was going to gag—it didn’t matter how, she was dying, going, gone.
    She tried to fight—the battle for her mind more terrifying than her struggle with Kasanov. You’ve faced killers before, seen evil and beaten it; don’t give up, a small voice tried to pierce the darkness that had enveloped her.
    A voice that sounded like Drake’s.
    He’d always been there when she was at her most hopeless, always given her the strength she needed to overcome. Not now. Now she was alone.
    She couldn’t do it alone. The sobs echoed through the trunk as Cassie’s spirit broke. She began to scream, to bang, pound on the walls with the frenzy of a madwoman. The only response when she finally quieted, head and knees bruised, throat raw, slumped in exhaustion, was the sound of laughter coming from the man in the rear seat.
    Laughing as she died.
    She had no more tears but cried just the same, certain each breath was her last. She curled up into the fetal position, whimpering, broken as darkness overtook her.
    Then warm arms encircled her, snugging her into their embrace. She felt Drake’s breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear, the steady comfort of his heartbeat against her back, his hands clasping hers tight, pouring his strength into her body.
    She strained to hear his words but it was as if he were too far away. She tried to quiet her breathing, and finally the rushing in her brain subsided so that she could hear his gentle whisper.
    “I’m here,” he was saying. “I’ll always be here.” And he moved one of his hands to rest over her heart.
    As their heartbeat and breathing synchronized, Cassie allowed herself to fall into an exhausted stupor, cradled within the safety of Drake’s arms.
     
 
 
 
 

Chapter 13
     
    DRAKE INSISTED ON driving while Jimmy worked the phone and scanned any intersections they blasted through. Normally, the drive to Tessa’s home in Bloomfield took twelve minutes, fifteen if the lights went against you; today, Drake ignored the lights and made it in half that time.
    Racing down Penn Avenue, Jimmy calling “clear,” and warning against traffic as Drake steered, was just like the old days when Drake was a rookie and Andy Greally was his training officer. But Drake didn’t have time or energy to reminisce, all he could think about were Hart and his mother.
    Thankfully Andy had been there, at the house. Drake was certain that was why there hadn’t been bloodshed—Andy wouldn’t have let the