Ryan fingered the holster of his gun as he felt the migraine coming on, or maybe it was an aneurysm. He cringed at the thought of Carlos and Felix together. The scumbag was definitely going to feel the sting of Ryan's knuckles against his estupido face if he touched one hair on Felix's head. At least the team wouldn't have to waste time searching for the house. Felix had provided the address before her transmitter went fuzzy, and Ryan could only guess how that happened. Now, speculation was the only thing motivating him.

They docked at the marina, and all but three men scrambled off the boat. The others remained on board to search the surrounding harbor for Donovan's speedboat. Fulton alerted the airport officials on the island, giving them orders to ground Donovan's plane, while everyone piled into golf carts, following the GPS signal to Donovan's home.

As they trundled toward the neat row of houses at the end of the island, Ryan held the receiver to his ear, straining to hear anything that might give him a clue about Felix's physical condition. Had she or someone else knocked her transmitter loose? The last thing he heard clearly was Carlos asking Felix What is that? This question came right after he said he wanted to taste her. A shiver wracked Ryan's body, and he forced away the image of Felix subdued by an asshole packing a gun and a hard-on.