Hell Breaks Loose

  Dedication

  For Rachel Vincent and Kimberly Derting:

  Thank you for propping me up through the last half of this book with your brilliance and laughter. I wish I could bring every book into the world with you both at my side.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Fury on Fire

  About the Author

  By Sophie Jordan

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  One

  It’s actually not that difficult to slip the Secret Service.

  Or maybe it was simply that Grace Reeves was the last person anyone would expect to rebel. Everyone (and by everyone she meant the entire country) considered her the most boring, predictable, unexciting First Daughter to ever grace the White House. Ha! There was a pun she hadn’t heard before.

  In elementary school Grace never so much as received a U (for unsatisfactory) on her report card. In high school she never broke curfew or got caught making out with boys. In college she never went to any wild frat parties. No one would expect her to sneak out of a hotel and ditch her detail.

  Even Grace could hardly believe she was doing it.

  She cast one last glance at the panic button sitting on the hotel dresser. She had to leave it behind. It carried a GPS, and she didn’t want anyone tracking her once they realized she was gone. She’d be back when she was ready. When she felt like it. The wholly selfish thought felt good. This rare moment of irresponsibility felt good.

  She stepped carefully into the sitting area that separated the suite’s two bedrooms. Holly’s voice carried through the shut doors, weary with disappointment, as Grace eased past the sofa. “. . . She’s hopeless. No matter how often we rehearse, she’s awkward every time we stick her in front of people.”

  Holly thought she was napping after their busy day. It shouldn’t sting to hear her personal aide talk about her. It was nothing she hadn’t said to Grace’s face. It was nothing Grace didn’t admit herself. It didn’t change the fact that Holly was her friend. Maybe her only one. Pathetic, Grace guessed, that her best friend happened to be on her father’s payroll.

  “It’s even worse if cameras are present,” Holly added. A thunk followed the comment and Grace could picture her sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking off her knee-high boots.

  She knew she shouldn’t take it so personally. Holly wasn’t being unkind and nothing she said was untrue. Grace sighed. It had been a long day. That was all. She was just being cranky and more sensitive than usual.

  Breakfast with seniors at a local retirement community, a luncheon with a women’s literacy group, and an afternoon speaking at a local university where college kids snickered and whispered about her behind their hands. It all added up to a typical day. A typically miserable day, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Nothing she wasn’t accustomed to doing for her father. Nothing that should send her running like she was now.

  No. That was entirely because of the call.

  Her father had taken ten minutes out of his busy schedule to Skype with her and let her know what “contribution” he expected from her for his re-election campaign. She snorted. That’s what he called it, his face neutral and unassuming in the screen of her laptop. Like he wasn’t asking for everything from her. A contribution. As though she were one of his constituents writing him a donation check. He’d asked a lot from her over the years. She’d put off grad school for him because he asked. He knew how important it was to her, but he’d asked her to put her dreams and ambitions on hold. Fortunately, they deferred her acceptance, but if she did this for her father . . . what were the odds she would ever get what she wanted out of life? She’d never be free.

  She couldn’t help remembering how she used to hide in her bedroom. In the narrow space between the wall and her bed, she would cover herself with stuffed animals and lay there buried beneath their soft weight, listening to the cadence of her breath as her parents entertained guests downstairs.

  The clink of glasses, the hum of voices, and the burst of laughter had all sounded so far away. She’d hoped no one would find her. She hoped they would forget about her upstairs. Sometimes she got her wish. They forgot about her and she woke up buried beneath stuffed animals the next morning. Sometimes they remembered her existence and dragged her downstairs to play the piano. She would cling to a smile and hope she didn’t mess up too badly. That she pulled off the role of happy, perfect child. She’d never been a very good pianist. Or perfect daughter. Then and now.

  She wanted to hide under those stuffed animals again. Only she wasn’t nine years old anymore. She was twenty-six and these days she didn’t own a stuffed animal. A deep sigh welled up from her tightening chest. Her father would never stop dragging her out to perform.

  Grace froze as Holly suddenly stopped talking, afraid she was finished with her call and would step out into the sitting area. Holly would insist on accompanying her—as would her detail. Thankfully, her voice started back up again.

  “Five more days, baby, and I’ll be home.” She was talking to one of her boyfriends, then. Holly had several. Too pretty for her own good—she looked like a young Heidi Klum. She loved good-looking men. And sex. Holly frequently regaled Grace with her sexcapades. She would listen raptly, hanging on every naughty word with vicarious delight. Grace didn’t get much action these days. Ironic, considering the bomb her father had just dropped on her. You’d think a woman on the verge of announcing an engagement got a little action.

  Charles, her sort a boyfriend, was nice. Everyone thought so. If their chemistry didn’t rock the charts, that was a minor complaint. Relationships thrived on less. True, not Holly’s. But others. At least that’s what her father told her when she complained that she didn’t like Charles as anything other than a friend. Her mother said she should feel lucky to have a man like Charles. Her mother reminded her of that repeatedly. Harvard grad. Handsome. Thirty-four years old and already so successful. He was a catch. He was. Grace didn’t miss the fact that her mother never said she was a catch.

  Grace continued past Holly’s room, glad at least that she wasn’t talking about her anymore. They had moved on to sexy talk. Holly giggled. “Oh, you think I should wear the black teddy? I thought you liked the red one. What’d you call it? Easy access? You still have that toy you bought?”

  Grace rolled her eyes. God, if she didn’t want to escape before, she did now. The last thing she wanted was to hear Holly descend into phone sex. That was enough to make her ears bleed. It was one thing to listen to Holly’s stories a day or two after the fact, she didn’t want to sit in the audience while the show was playing.

  Shaking her head, she unlocked the door and eased it open the barest crack. The suite had three doors that led out into the hall, and Carter stood in front of her room’s door. A smile curled his lips as he glanced at the phone in his hand, snorting at something on the screen. It just confirmed what she already knew. She was a powder puff detail. No one considered her high risk. Because she wasn’t.

  Nothing ever happened to boring.

&nb
sp; Even as preoccupied as he was, Carter would notice if she slipped out of the room and walked right down the hall in front of him. She closed the door softly. Biting her lip, she stared pensively across the sitting area. They were on the second floor.

  Holly’s voice carried. “You’re so bad. I’m not going to do that . . . I don’t care how long it’s been since . . .”

  Stifling a groan, Grace moved to the sliding glass balcony door before she could chicken out. Opening it, she stepped out into the chilly evening. She didn’t need to bother with a coat. Winter in Texas felt like fall back home.

  She peered over the railing. Not too far down. The hedge would break the fall. Shooting a quick glance over her shoulder to make certain Holly hadn’t emerged from her room, she swung one leg over the side and then the next. Gripping the railing, she slid her hands down the iron rails until she was crouching, her butt sticking out in an undignified manner. She lowered one leg and then the other, dangling for a moment, the soles of her tennis shoes brushing the top of the hedge. Pressing her lips together to stifle any noise, she opened her hands and let go. She dropped. As hoped, the hedge broke her fall, swallowing her up. She thrashed in the bushes for a moment before gaining her feet.

  Standing, she shook the hair back from her face and climbed out of the bushes onto the pebbled path. Dusting off her jeans and wincing at the snags in her silk blouse, she looked left and right, verifying that no one was around. Her detail, most importantly, wasn’t, but that wouldn’t be the case for long. Even if Holly didn’t figure out she was gone soon, Holstein, the special agent in charge, required routine perimeter checks. She needed to get out of there before the next one.

  She skirted the swimming pool and circled around the back of the hotel, planning to make her way to the burger place she had spotted from the car earlier.

  It almost seemed too good to be true. Walking outside—alone—on her way to get a hamburger. For a moment she felt almost normal. Normal and not someone being bullied into marriage with a guy who did nothing for her girl parts. She winced. She made it sound like she expected a guy Daddy handpicked for her to actually be the one. She’d gone along with dating Charles because it got her father off her back, and he was a genuinely nice guy. She could do worse. She’d thought maybe something could grow between them. Only lately had it become resoundingly clear that wasn’t happening. She’d been contemplating ways to end it.

  And now her father expected them to get married? She shook her head, feeling sick all over again. How could she go through with it?

  Staying parallel to the hotel, she peeked carefully out at the street.

  Agent Marshall and Agent Thompson stood in front of the building beneath the hotel portico. She pulled back, flattening her body against the brick wall. They chatted casually, looking slightly bored. They were probably waiting for Holly to notify them of their dinner plans.

  Grace smiled grimly. She was going to dinner like a normal person. Without her personal aide/best friend. Without a security detail. Without a boyfriend who liked to call reporters ahead of time to make certain they were at the restaurant when they arrived. Charles was all about a great photo op.

  Turning, she walked briskly, leaving the hotel behind and ducking down a back street. She held her breath, half expecting, half dreading a cry of alert. Nothing happened. She tucked her hands in her pockets and practically skipped ahead, imagining sinking her teeth into a big juicy burger. Maybe sweet potato fries, too. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten something like that. Something so good it was bad.

  The scuff of a shoe on loose gravel had her looking over her shoulder.

  Two guys followed a couple yards behind her. She didn’t know where they had come from. She hadn’t noticed them before. Facing forward again, she buried her hands in her pockets and picked up her pace, trying to ignore the sudden hammering of her heart.

  It was just a street. It was just two guys walking on a street. Apparently she’d watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds.

  They didn’t know who she was. They weren’t following her. Her life was not that dramatic. It definitely wasn’t that dangerous.

  Just the same, her heart steadied with relief as she approached the end of the street. Two more steps and she would be free, out onto the busier thoroughfare, a block away from the diner she’d passed earlier.

  A figure stepped out and blocked her, materializing out of air. She gasped and stopped hard, blinking up at the face before her.

  “Hi there,” he said, utterly normal.

  “H-Hey,” she stammered, not feeling similarly normal. Grappling for composure, she stepped to the side to move around him, but he matched her move, stepping to the right and blocking her again.

  His mouth kicked up at the corner. He was toying with her and enjoying himself in the process.

  “Excuse me,” she said, her voice harder. It was her father’s no-nonsense-my-army-is-bigger-than-yours voice.

  He cocked his head as if considering her request. “Where you going?”

  A sound behind her had her looking over her shoulder. The two guys from earlier had stopped directly behind her, crowding her, looking down at her and reminding her of her diminutive height. She felt every inch of her five feet two inches.

  She shifted uneasily. She had never been in a situation like this before. Never felt threatened. Even before she was the president’s daughter, no one had ever paid her special notice. She was the type of girl who went unnoticed. Most of the time she was simply invisible. Most of the time she wanted it that way.

  She wanted it that way now.

  Squaring her shoulders, she adopted that air of perpetual arrogance her father wore with such ease. She had certainly stood witness to it enough. “Let me pass.”

  The guy in front of her tossed back his head and laughed. “‘Let me pass,’” he mocked, greasy strands of hair brushing his shoulders. “She sounds like someone used to getting her way.”

  Grace stifled a flinch. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten her way in anything. Quite possibly never.

  Greasy Hair glanced over her shoulder at the two men behind her. “Don’t you think so, boys?”

  Her stomach bottomed out. He knew them. He was with them. They were together. All these thoughts clicked one after another in her mind. There was no denying it.

  She was in trouble.

  She lunged forward and tried to step around Greasy Hair. He grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her so tightly she couldn’t catch her breath. His face was so close she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “What’s the matter? You too good for us?”

  She shook her head hard, her heart fierce and savage, threatening to break free from her chest. “Let me go.”

  “Such a disappointment.” He tsked his tongue. “I thought the president’s daughter would have better manners than this.”

  Oh, God. With those words, her fate was sealed. Her last scrap of hope that they didn’t know who she was died a swift death. Grace’s heart twisted, an aching mass in her chest. Longing to go back, to retrace her steps and order room service with Holly, surged within her. She could be in her pajamas eating a mediocre burger and lukewarm fries watching TV. Maybe a Modern Family rerun.

  Greasy Hair stopped smiling. His lips flattened into a thin line that peeked out of the patchy beard on his face. He looked utterly, frighteningly serious as he stared down at her. He reached out a hand and she flinched, trying to back away, but the two men behind her prevented her from retreating. She stopped. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. He fingered a lock of her hair as though testing its texture, marveling at its cleanness. Then he released it abruptly. Holding his hand midair, he snapped his fingers. “Take her.”

  They grabbed her, hard hands bruising where they dug into her arms. She struggled and opened her mouth to scream. The sound never escaped her lips. Something gouged into her ribs. For one terrified instant she thought it was the barrel of a gun.

>   A jolt of pain punched her. She went rigid as fiery-hot waves rippled over her. They didn’t stop. Her teeth clamped tight. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. It was the strangest sensation. She was conscious of the men, their voices, their sweat-doused stink, a hard object digging into her side.

  Tires squealed and a van peeled in front of her, filling her vision. A sliding door swished open, revealing a dark gaping hole. She was picked up and tossed into that shadowy maw.

  The door slammed shut and the pain suddenly stopped. The men crowded into the small space with her, the smell of them bitter copper in her nose. Her body went limp. Her jaw relaxed. She gasped for breath, intelligible words tripping from her lips. Shaking, sprawled on the hard metal floor of the van, she tried to lift her head to look around. The van accelerated, rumbling all around her.

  There were high fives and triumphant exclamations. She felt her lips moving and knew she was speaking, but nothing sounded right to her ears.

  A guy looked down at her and laughed. “You Tased the shit out of her, Zane!”

  “Yeah.” Greasy Hair laughed once. “Easier than I planned. Didn’t expect her to stroll outside all alone.”

  Grace shook her head, fear like metal in her mouth. Her one and only act of rebellion and this had happened.

  She reacted, her leg lashing out, managing to kick one of her assailants. Her efforts were rewarded with a slap to the face. Her head struck the steel floor of the van. Stars danced in her vision. Whimpering, she lay there, the scald of tears filling her eyes. The men around her laughed.

  Did anyone even realize she was gone yet? Was Holly still talking to her boyfriend, oblivious to her absence? For once, Grace wished that she had just stayed put and accepted her fate. Marriage to Charles wouldn’t be so bad, she reasoned. She could do worse.

  Because this fate? It was so much worse.

  Two

  Deep shadows blanketed the hospital room. A dim glow radiated from the panel above his hospital bed, saving the space from complete blackness. Not that Reid minded the dark. He was accustomed to it. There weren’t any nightlights in a prison cell. And his stints in the hole had shown him just how dark darkness could be.