He scanned the area. Lot was empty of people. No cameras pointing in his direction. Sweet. He knocked her out with a single punch to the jaw, then caught her as she collapsed. He tossed her and her purse into the back of the Charger. He drove a half mile and turned onto a dark side road. After securing her with zip ties and duct tape, he transferred her to the trunk. He could barely contain his excitement as he drove toward the house.

Sam got up from his spot on the couch as Mick carried her inside.

“Another one? We’re going to run out of places to put them all.” But Sam’s protest was mocking. His eyes lit with pleasure as his gaze swept over her.

Mick took her into the bedroom he’d claimed. “You can have her when I’m done, but first we’ll have to go get her car. I don’t want it found in the parking lot of the bar.” He took her keys from her purse. The beep of the unlock button on the keychain should lead him to her vehicle.

Sam nodded. “She’s out cold anyway. Not my idea of a party unless they’re awake.”

Mick tied her spread-eagle to the bedposts. No chance of her getting away while they took care of business. Thirty minutes later they returned. Sam hid the girl’s car in the barn out back. She was awake when Mick walked into the bedroom. Her terrified eyes and muffled screams sent all his blood to his groin.

As he approached her, he held up a pair of scissors he’d taken from the kitchen. “I’d hold still if I were you.”

She froze. Mick knelt next to her head and snipped her long blond strands. He was no hairstylist, but when he was finished, her hair was cropped short to frame her face. He collected the hair from the bed and flushed it down the toilet. Tonight, he wanted no reminders that this woman wasn’t Hannah Barrett.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

At seven a.m., the police station was mostly empty when Brody knocked on the chief’s office door. He’d purposefully come in early to get his task over with before the administrative staff started at eight. Patrol shift had just changed, and Stella, who’d been on duty overnight, sat at a computer typing a report before clocking out.

Brody had woken Chet and ordered him into the shower. Nursing the mother of all hangovers, Chet had been a cranky old bear. There had been no further conversation. Feeling like a traitor and a coward, Brody had sneaked out of the house before Chet emerged.

“Come in.”