Nothing moves. No one stirs. Where the fuck is he?
I prowl around vehicles, senses sharp and blade held out at my side. If he’s hiding, I’ll find him. Gut him. And strangle him with his goddamn intestines.
The squeal of tires turns my head. On the far side of the restaurant, an expensive pickup peels out of the lot. Gravel flies. Rubber burns, and I explode into a sprint.
My arms pump hard as I stretch my stride and run faster than I’ve ever run in my life. My boots pound pavement. My chest screams for air. I push faster, harder, chasing him down the lakeside road, unwilling to lose him.
But I lose ground.
He hits the gas, and his taillights vanish in the distance.
“Fuuuuck!” My rage thunders across the lake.
I can’t contain the vibrating, thrashing madness inside me. I throw the knife, rip off my hat, and slam it against the ground.
Then I pace, heaving and panting, shaking and pulling at my hair.
He hurt her, and he can hurt her again. Because I fucking failed.
I lace my fingers on my head and tilt my face to the sky, eyes closed, lungs burning, unable to catch my breath.
I left her by herself. Unprotected. What am I doing?
I need to calm my ass down.
Bending at the waist, I grip my knees and breathe. In. Out.
She’s alive.
In. Out.
He didn’t take her.
In. Out.
She needs me.
I collect my knife and hat and jog back. From my pocket, I remove my phone and dial Jarret.
“Where are you?” he asks after the first ring.
“Your dad showed up. He got away. I’m in the back lot.” I disconnect and pick up my pace.
When I hit the parking lot, my gaze falls on the slender silhouette near the back door of the building.
She runs to me, one hand falling to her stomach.
Did he kick her? Punch her? In my mindless fury, I didn’t even check to see if she was bleeding.
When she reaches me, she reads my eyes, and her voice cracks. “He got away.”
My stomach hardens, and I pull her against me, pressing my lips to her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“Tiana’s alive.” She pushes back, voice rising. “He said if I didn’t go with him, he’d kill her.”
“What?”
As she angrily rushes through what happened, I crouch before her and lift her shirt. No stabs or cuts. No blood. I prod the skin on her abs, and her words break into a cry of pain.
My molars slam together. “I’m going to kill him.”
“I’m going to kill him.” She shoves down the shirt, her eyes brimming with tears. “First, I have to find my sister.”
Christ, this woman. She’s so fierce and beautifully hopeful I can’t bring myself to deny her anything.
Maybe Tiana’s alive in a hospital somewhere in Texas, but I’m not counting on it.
“She’s our number one priority.” I lift her into my arms and scan the lot for Jarret. “I need you to trust me.”
“I’ve never trusted anyone.” Her arms wrap tightly around my neck, confessing otherwise.
The sound of an approaching engine turns me toward the street. Jarret veers the truck in beside me and swings open the passenger door.
I meet his ice-cold eyes and in that flickering moment, I see every bullet he’s fired. Every blade he’s bloodied. Every life he’s taken. Killing his father was a burden he never wanted, but that conflict no longer resides in his expression.
“Jake is taking the girls home.” His gaze darts around the perimeter.
I slide in with Raina and shut the door. “We’re going to see Fletcher.”
“Thought you might say that.” He steps on the gas.
While I update him on the last twenty minutes, I hold Raina on my lap, close to my chest. Fuck the seat belt. I’m not putting her down.
During the drive, she falls unnervingly still, almost lethargic, much like the way she was the night I met her, right after she was pulled from John’s house.
I run my hand over the back of her hand, attempting to soothe her. Until my fingers slide through wetness.
“The fuck?” I hold my hand up to the moonlight, and my nails glisten with blood. “What happened to your head?”
“He slammed me against the wall. It’s just a cut.” She pulls my arm down and wraps it around her. “Please, just… Keep holding me.”
My nostrils widen with the flux of my anger. But I manage to rein it in for forty-five agonizing minutes.
Jarret pulls into Sheriff Fletcher’s driveway, holsters the gun from his glove box, and strides to the front porch. I follow him with Raina in my arms and set her on her feet at the door.
When Fletcher answers the knock in his plaid pajamas, Jarret shoves his way inside.
“John paid us a visit tonight in Lindville.” He makes a beeline for the office off the foyer.
“That’s out of my jurisdiction.” Fletcher storms after him. “Get out of my house.”