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knew that was where Austin must have been keeping his parents. But with only two cages, he also knew it meant he was right when he had assumed Olin’s parents had been the ones found burning in the parking deck.

But why had Austin killed them and kept Kim and Frank alive?

Austin put Kim back in a cage, then tied Connor, Dylan, and Olin up, binding their hands behind their backs and then securing them to one side of the empty cage.

They all had gags on now—rolled-up socks Austin had stuffed into their mouths, held in place with bandanas and rope. Connor felt like he was going to choke to death if he didn’t keep fighting the sock away from his throat with his tongue.

There had to be a way out of this. If Connor had been keeping a scorecard, he would have to admit that he had gotten himself and Olin (and now Dylan) in more trouble than he’d gotten them out of, but it was never too late to try to turn things around.

He had only one tool at his disposal—the Swiss Army knife he had taken off Austin back at the apartment—but it would be enough if he could get to it.

The problem was the knife was in his front pocket, and he couldn’t exactly reach a hand in and pull it out. He might, however, be able to shake it out, he thought.

He put his feet flat on the floor, lifted with his knees so that he could get the pocket at a ninety-degree angle, then began to shake his hips. Dylan raised an eyebrow in his direction. He could only imagine what she was thinking.

Connor felt the knife slide closer to the top of the pocket. Eventually, though, it hit a fold in the fabric and refused to go any further. After several attempts, Connor gave up. There was nothing they could do. They were trapped.

He wished he had thought to text Olivia the address before they came up here.

Connor wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Austin came back down into the cellar. When he did, though, he didn’t say a word. He just walked over to Connor, untied him from the cage, and pulled his gun.

Connor wasn’t sure where this was going. He worried Austin might take him outside and shoot him like he had Frank. Maybe his plan was to kill them all, one at a time.

The rational part of him insisted that was unlikely. No matter how he felt about Austin now, Austin had gone to a great deal of trouble to find Connor and get close to him. There was something he wanted. Maybe Connor was about to find out what that was. This couldn’t be all about family. If Austin had only been interested in getting to know his estranged son, he could have introduced himself honestly when they’d first met.

But the rational part of him also insisted he treat the situation like he was going to be killed. Because if this was the last chance he had to help his friends, he had better take it.

When Austin gestured for Connor to go upstairs, Connor instead took a step toward him, placing them only inches apart. He could hardly believe what he was doing. Stepping right up to him like this seemed suicidal. But he also didn’t know any other way to pull off his plan.

“Get upstairs,” Austin demanded.

Connor stood there, eye to eye, for several seconds, before turning and following Austin’s instructions.

When they got upstairs, Austin removed Connor’s gag. He gestured toward the sofa, told Connor to sit down. Then he locked the cellar door and took a seat himself. The chair he had chosen put him as close to Connor as he could get without actually sitting on the sofa with him. “I wish you hadn’t come here.”

Connor didn’t respond.

“But since you did, there are some things you need to understand. All this isn’t what it looks like.” Austin put the gun on the chair beside him. Too far away for Connor to grab if he tried. Which he thought about doing.

Austin lifted a mug off the coffee table, which was made of pale, unvarnished wood, and took a sip of what looked like coffee. Connor had been so distracted by the weapon he hadn’t noticed the mug until now. It was one of two. Both on coasters, of course.

He assumed the second mug was for him. There was no way he was drinking that coffee, though. God knows what might be in it. After all, it wasn’t as if Austin had let him choose which mug he wanted to drink out of.

“It looks like you kidnapped my parents and killed my dad.”

Austin sighed. “You need to understand what’s really happening here. Frank was not your dad.”

“I know.”

Austin suddenly looked surprised. “You do?”

“I saw my birth certificate. But he’s the man who raised me. Not you. And at least he never killed anybody.”

“You know I’m your father?”

Connor didn’t feel like elaborating on how he had learned that information, so he shrugged and said, “I put two and two together.”

Austin took another sip from his coffee. “Frank had it coming.”

“I’m not just talking about him.”

“You mean Olin’s parents? They had it coming, too.”

“Why? What did they do?”

“It’s what they didn’t do.”

“I don’t understand.”

Austin leaned forward. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I think there’s probably a lot you don’t understand. Fifteen years ago—”

“I already know about Prague.”

“You do?” He considered that. “You have been a busy bee, haven’t you?”

The comment got under Connor’s skin. Had Austin really expected he wouldn’t go looking for answers after his parents were kidnapped? Did he think the police were so inept they wouldn’t eventually make the connection between the murder in Prague and the abductions in New York?

“Let’s skip the history lesson,” Connor said. Minutes earlier, he would have warned himself about letting his emotion get the better of him. But he didn’t regret saying it. Not one bit. Either Austin was going