But instead of crying and giving up hope, she held onto the thought of her brother and sister. The idea of holding them close once more, this whole nightmare behind her.

Sam was still out there.

The man was built for survival. She had seen it firsthand, and until they threw his dead body in front of her she knew he was still fighting.

Which meant there was a chance.

And that was enough.

* * *

Sam sipped the remnants of his tea and didn’t even try to hide his disdain. For all the wonderful cups of coffee he’d sampled in the States, he’d never once been handed a nice cup of tea. Alan chuckled as he watched Sam gingerly put the mug down.

‘That good, huh?’

‘Lovely,’ Sam lied.

‘So, you have no idea where they’re holding her?’ Alan asked, leaning forward in his chair, his fingers pressed together.

‘No. But whatever is happening is happening today.’ Sam stretched out the ache in his spine. ‘Sinclair really said nothing to you? This whole time.’

‘Nothing.’ Alan sat back, dejected. The mention of his former partner clearly hurt. ‘I didn’t even know Alex was his source.’

Sam pushed himself out of his chair and stepped to the window, his mind racing. None of it made sense.

None of it.

It was all too convenient.

Sinclair had planted Alex in the High Five, then within two weeks, Sykes insisted she try out at the Pit. He and Alan had mulled it over between them while Sam had persevered with his cup of tea. Alex had made it clear that Sykes had never approached her, never pursued a romantic tryst. Sam ran his hand through his hair, a feeling of helplessness coursing through him like a current.

Alex was out there somewhere.

Something big was about to go down.

And they had nothing.

‘It just doesn’t make sense,’ Sam muttered through gritted teeth. ‘All of this happens, and we have nothing. What are we not seeing?’

Before Alan could answer, a gentle knock echoed from the door and one of the secretaries entered. She smiled sheepishly at both men before handing Alan a file.

Alan flicked it open, thumbed some of the sheets of paper before tossing it onto the table in annoyance.

‘Fuck.’ He quickly turned and nodded his thanks to the secretary as she shut the door.

‘What’s that?’

‘I asked Debbie to run your descriptions through the database of the guys you left up at the truck stop.’ Alan shook his head and slumped forward. ‘No matches.’

Alan’s words jolted Sam awake, as if he’d just stepped on a nail.

‘What did you just say?’

‘The descriptions you gave us. Nothing. I mean, it was pretty vague.’

‘No, after that.’ Sam was already heading over to the messy table that displayed Sinclair’s abundance of notes.

‘No matches?’