The Cage (Book 2)

Saving Schneider

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Saving Schneider

"I can't believe you didn't get us killed. I was sure you would."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cade." I shot him a disgruntled look, but a part of me definitely agreed with him. I thought I'd signed our death warrants when I talked back to Schneider's father, but I'd somehow won him over.

An early Christmas miracle.

I knew I had salesman skills as an attorney who frequented court, and had won over many a jury, but to convince someone as ruthless as a mafia boss was a whole new level.

I'd thought him a poor excuse for a father when he'd callously brushed aside our plea for help, but I knew now that there was a certain paternal softness beneath the hard criminal shell.

And now that we had the boss's blessings, and the support we'd come for, we were each shown to a guest room. Cade whistled as he stepped into his. "Fancy," he commented.

The room I was given was directly opposite his, which pleased us both. It was indeed an expensive-looking room, but I wasn't here to enjoy another man's wealth. His hospitality and help, however, was greatly appreciated.

I excused myself and slipped into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for support. My heart was still racing. How was it that I felt winded and invigorated at the same time? My face-off with a mafia boss had left me feeling drained, but also exhilarated.

We finally had a legitimate chance of saving Schneider.

Did I dare hope we could pull this off successfully?

God, please let it not be too late.

I screwed my eyes shut and swallowed enough air to balloon my chest, then puffed it all out.

I purposely hadn't worried about it -or rather allowed myself to- up until this point because we first had to secure the help we desperately needed to even have a valid shot at rescuing Schneider, but now we had to address the elephant in the room.

Where was Schneider? And who were his captors?

For over a year, Cade tried finding out any piece of information about his whereabouts big or small, but he had come up empty handed. All he knew was that he and Schneider were ambushed, and Schneider saved his life by knocking him out and making him look dead. When he opened his eyes the next morning, their attackers were gone, and since there wasn't a body, Cade had to assume that they'd taken Schneider with them.

There was no other proof that Schneider was even alive.

A deep tremor rattled me.

Don't think about that now, I harshly berated myself and pushed the very thought to the deepest, darkest corners of my mind where it would stay, dammit, because Schneider was alive and well.

He was alive. He had to be.

When I opened my eyes, I swept them across the fancy marble restroom until I met my own tired gaze in the mirror's reflection. I looked like I'd just broken out of prison, which of course I did. In other words, I looked like absolute hell.

Sighing, I pushed off the door and attempted to wash away some of the fatigue off my face at the sink. The warm water felt wonderful against my skin, but it did nothing for the circles under my eyes. No, those bad boys needed a good night's sleep. Or two. But I doubted I'd be getting any sleep any time soon.

****

We spent the next couple of days holed up in the mansion making use of all the mafia's extensive resources in an effort to pinpoint Schneider's exact location. When it became painfully evident that doing so was next to impossible since we didn't have a single lead to go on, despite the mafia's alarming reach, Schneider's father put up some sort of reward to anyone who volunteered any type of information regarding Schneider.

Rather expectedly, information came pouring in.

Unfortunately, not a single fucking tip was useful. Not. One.

On the fifth day, and having made zero ground, I felt sick to my stomach. If even a damned mafia boss couldn't find his own son, who the hell could?

That night I didn't touch my dinner plate. My already diminishing appetite had all but vanished. My mounting anxiety did its thing. The constant thinking and worrying tore me to shreds. The dark thoughts I kept trying to shove down reared their ugly heads every time I let my guard down.

As I lay on the bed, having been staring at the ceiling for the past who knew how long, I felt the urge to break the silence and say as if he could hear me, "You should have taken me with you."

I would have gone anywhere with him.

Why did he leave me in solitary?

Well, Cade explained to me why well enough, but it just made me so unbelievably angry to know he saw me as a liability that his enemies could target. That leaving me in solitary while he was gone was the best decision for me. Well, I had enemies of my own, and they came for me soon after he was gone. That yellow-bellied coward Schneider left to escort and watch over me turned tail and ran the moment he sensed danger.

Just when I had finally met someone -a man- who was brilliant and strong and made me feel with an intensity that I hadn't thought possible, he up and disappeared on me. And right when I had decided that 'Schneider Cross' and 'soul mate' were synonymous.

"You're an idiot, Schneider."

"I wholeheartedly agree."

I snatched the gun Cade gave me for protection from underneath my pillow, shot bolt upright in the bed and pointed it at the source of the intruding voice.

My heart seized. I let out a strangled squeak and I nearly dropped the gun. I started shaking uncontrollably.

It couldn't be.

My eyes were deceiving me. The yearning mixed with the anxiety was making me see things that weren't really there.

Impossible, my mind wailed.

But there he was still. The illusion didn't fade no matter how many times I furiously blinked.

Standing by the open window, clad in a black shirt that stretched deliciously over his massive chest, dark cargo pants and army boots, was Schneider.  

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