"I contacted my friend who's a cop I know I can trust. Now that we're in place, we may need his team for back-up. They should be here in about fifteen minutes so we need to move fast. You three take the back, Lucas and I will go in the front," Trenton said.
"I'll wait for one minute. While you have them at a standoff, I'll find Bree," Chad said, agreeing with Trenton's plan.
"It's now or never, boys," Trenton called, then the men went into stealth mode and quickly ran toward the house. Chad counted to twenty while he watched them approach the steps. Trenton stood back, brought his leg up and smashed in the rickety front door.
Immediately, gunfire erupted as shots rang out.
Screw waiting a full minute, Chad thought as he rushed in. He had to get to Bree, and fast. There was no way he wanted her anywhere near the line of fire.
"Get the damn girl," he heard someone shout, then saw a man dart for the stairs. Over his dead body! Chad charged the guy and caught him by surprise. He slammed the butt of his gun into the man's temple, making him crumble to the floor. Then he charged up the stairs three at a time.
"Bree," he called. Being discreet was no longer an option, as the house was an eruption of chaos. He had to evacuate her from the premises as quickly as possible and then notify the guys to stand down. She was their only goal. Let the cops deal with the mess of the kidnappers.
"Chad," he heard Bree's voice filled with hope. A door creaked open, and there she was. She was pale, shaking and he didn't even want to think about what was going on with her wrists, but she was alive.
Chad swung her into his arms, slammed his lips against hers for a fleeting moment, then pushed her behind him and started descending the stairs, far more cautiously than how he'd come up. She didn't say a word, just followed him, her body brushing against his with each step.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and Chad smelled smoke. The house was so old it wouldn't take much for it to become an inferno if a fire had already started. He needed to get her out. He looked around the corner and didn't see anyone so he pulled her tightly against his side and rushed through the room, and straight out the front door, flames starting to creep up the walls behind him.
He looked quickly from side to side and didn't see anyone so he pulled her to the safety of the bushes. Once they were hidden from view he spoke into the microphone on his shirt.
"She's safe and out of the house – pull out," Chad spoke. There were several acknowledgments, more firing, then he saw the guys racing from the burning house, covering each other's backs.
Chad kept Bree behind him as he lifted his gun and fired into the house, covering the men as they ran from the flames. No one was going to die on his watch. Once the men were safely away he finally focused on Bree.
He ran his hands along her body, checking for injuries. When he reached her wrists, she let out a small gasp. He looked at her damaged skin in the light of day and had to fight the rage wanting to boil over. He wanted nothing more than to go back in that house and destroy the men who'd been foolish enough to harm her.
Instead, he gently lifted her hand to his mouth and softly brushed his lips against her swollen and bloody flesh. He wanted to take her pain away – he should've been able to prevent it.
"I'm okay, Chad. Thank you," Bree told him in a tear choked voice. He pulled her back into his arms and held her tightly, while waiting for her family to join them. He heard the sound of sirens in the distance. Their back-up had arrived.
"I'm sorry, Bree. I promised I wouldn't let anything happen. They never should've been able to get close to you, let alone take you away."
"I was the one acting foolish. You're the one who rescued me. I was so terrified when I saw you fall to the ground. I'm sorry I got you shot," she whispered. She was barely able to talk, she felt so guilty over him being put in such danger.
"Did they … . they didn't … we should get you to the hospital," he choked. He couldn't bring himself to ask her how bad her torture had been. She seemed to realize what he was trying to say.
"My wrists are the worst of my injuries. They knocked me out in the van and when I woke up I was tied to the bed. It took me a long time to get out of the ropes. I struggled a lot – cutting up my skin in the process. They didn't touch me other than that," she reassured him.
He didn't need to know how close the men had come to doing exactly what he feared. She couldn't even think about it without panic setting in.
"We need to have you checked, anyway," he said, but she heard the relief in his voice.
"I wouldn't know what to do if a man in my life wasn't trying to take control," she said with a small attempt at humor. He gave her a half grin before standing up. He saw the ambulance coming around the corner and he wanted to get her inside it.