He was right.
It was the farm.
“What? Why there?”
“Because when Dell was younger, she talked about buying the farm and having lots of animals,” Sean said.
“It’s empty,” Eoin added. “Private. The kind of place you could take someone.”
“That’s it,” Cillian said, following my gaze toward his former employee, a man he trusted with the safety of his baby sister, seeing the same thing I was seeing.
As the brothers started to move toward their SUV, I reached into Conor’s waistband, pulling out his gun, and striding over toward Patrick, aiming, and putting a plug in his forehead before turning and making my way toward my bike, seeing Cillian giving me a nod, then looking at the body.
“We’ll handle it,” Slash said, shrugging. “More our body than yours at this point,” he reasoned.
“Appreciate it,” Cillian said, making his way toward his SUV.
I missed whatever Slash responded because my bike was roaring to life, and then I was peeling off.
There were a couple farms on the outskirts of Shady Valley, but they all butted up to one another, so I knew where I was going.
My heart had lodged itself up into my throat as I sped down the road that would eventually lead out of Shady Valley, a part of me terrified of what I might find.
A body.
Would I find a body?
Her body?
The thought made a stabbing sensation pierce my chest.
No.
I couldn’t let my mind go there.
I was going to find her alive.
I mean, if Patrick was obsessive enough to follow Delaney all the way to Vegas, if he had been wanting her since she was younger, he wouldn’t just kill her right away, right?
Surely, he had some sort of twisted vision of having her want him back.
He didn’t have nearly enough time with her to make that happen.
He likely got her somewhere, secured her, fucked up his face and hands, then went back to create his cover story, knowing that the Murphys would come looking for him first when they realized Dell wasn’t home like she should have been.
She was alive.
She had to be.
Maybe hurt.
Maybe traumatized.
But alive, damnit.
I refused to believe anything else.
Because there was no way I was finally starting to come to terms with how I felt about her only to have her ripped away from me by some obsessive psychopath.
The ride felt like it took forever, even if, rationally, I knew it was only a couple of minutes.
Turning off the main drag, I drove my bike up onto the grass, avoiding the actual path because there were tire indents in the gravel.
Someone had been around recently. And no one should have since no one lived there.
I wanted to be able to see where the tracks stopped, so I could figure out which farm Patrick had dragged Delaney to.
My heart surged up when they turned off to the second farm.
It was the oldest of them with an ancient farmhouse and a barn that had been mostly reclaimed by nature and wildlife before I was even born.
The house was still standing. The metal roof was rusted to high hell and some of the windows were busted. The whole thing looked like a strong wind might blow it down, but it was there.
I was vaguely aware of the SUV behind me as I pulled into the gravel driveway.
Not only were there deep imprints of tires from Patrick’s car, but there were footsteps.
Two sets.
She’d walked in.
Or been pulled in.
But she’d been alive.
Just a few short hours ago.
My chest felt like it was in a vice grip as I tore into the building.
The sun struggled to stream through the dirty windows as I tried to get my bearings, as I tried to figure out where he might keep her.
I went down the hall first, but the bedrooms were empty.
Was there a basement?
There had to be.
For root cellaring back when this place had been built.
Turning back, I charged through the living room and the kitchen before finding a door with stairs leading down.
I could hear the Murphy brothers running behind me as I made my way down the stairs to the lower level that was lit with only a small camping lantern.
My eyes struggled to adjust to the darker conditions before, finally, my gaze landed on a body sprawled on the floor.
My stomach dropped for a second, finding her unmoving, before, suddenly, she pushed up onto her knees and her one good hand.
It was then I realized that she must have fallen attempting to knock a metal beam loose to free her cuffed wrist.
I felt a swelling of something like pride at realizing that her body was sprawled next to said beam.
Because, as fucking hurt as she was, she’d been determined enough to pull it off.
“Baby…” I said, moving forward.
“Jass?” she asked, voice rough.
“Thank fuck,” I hissed, rushing forward and wrapping my arms carefully around her.
CHAPTER TWENTY