Wilde Love (The Brothers of Wilde, Nevada 6)

Jackson went to Denver’s gun cabinet and started pulling out pistols and rifles, handing them to his brothers. With an unknown killer still on the loose, he knew they had to act fast.

“No answer on my phone either.”

“Let’s go.” Dallas rushed to the door. “We’ll take my truck.”

He followed, anxious to get to Jessie.

Fully armed, the four brothers bolted out the door to go protect the woman they loved.

* * * *

“If you want to live, bitch, do exactly what I say.” The voice was male and firm.

“Fuck you!” Jessie screamed. “Austin, talk to me. Are you all right?” No answer. She’d heard Austin fall to the ground after the gunshot. “Did you…k–kill him?”

“He’s alive, but he won’t be if you don’t do exactly what I say.”

The blindfold, meant to enhance her pleasure, now trapped her in darkness. She needed to see Austin for herself. She reached up to remove the scrap of material.

“Stop. Leave it on.”

She froze in place. The voice sounded oddly familiar to her, but it wasn’t Paul King’s.

“Good,” the monster stated. “Stand up, Ms. Greene.”

And then she recognized the voice. It was from the teenager who’d been injured in the old mine—Paul’s nephew. His accident was one of the reasons she’d come to Wilde in the first place. “No. I won’t, Rich.”

“Goddamn it.”

She felt his hand on her, and then a sting on her left arm. “Ouch. What was that?”

“I gave you a shot of Ketamine mixed with a bit of Valium.”

“What does it do?” But she felt its effects almost immediately. Her body went numb, and she couldn’t move or speak another word. Jessie tried to focus on Austin, but her mind felt foggy and terrifyingly very far way.

Chapter Four

Phoenix checked the pistol Jackson had handed him at Denver’s house—a Magnum .357 Desert Eagle. The weapon had a good weight and sleek lines with fluted barrels. Phoenix had never killed anything on two legs, but he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between the eyes of the person trying to harm Jessie.

He looked at Jackson and Denver in the backseat. They, too, were studying their weapons.

Jackson held a twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun, great for hunting small game and for taking down a killer.

Of course Denver had brought his trusty Winchester rifle that Pappy Jack had given him on his fifteenth birthday. Phoenix knew Denver to be the best shot of the five of them, and with “Smoke Pole,” as he liked to call the weapon, Denver could shoot the wings off of a fly from across the room.

Dallas kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the sidearm strapped to his leg, a menacing-looking Glock.

Phoenix’s anger boiled inside him. If they did find the bastard near Jessie, they’d rain a shower of bullets into the fucker until he was nothing more than a slick spot on the ground.

Phoenix looked over at the speedometer as it hit 120 and was reminded of when he’d chased Jessie’s car down Suicide Hill to save her. He clenched his jaw, praying the killer hadn’t gotten to her yet.

Dallas hit the brakes, screeching the truck to a halt in front of Austin’s property. Phoenix felt a tinge of relief when he saw Denver’s truck, which Jessie had parked next to Austin’s.

They all jumped from the cab and ran through his gates with guns ready.

Phoenix scanned the grounds but found nothing alarming.

Denver ran through the front door, not bothering to knock. “Jessie? Austin?”