Worth the Chase

I call her back, and it goes straight to voicemail.

“Fuck.” Throwing my truck into drive, I peel out of the parking lot, hitting her number again. Nothing. I look at the time. She left the message two hours ago. I hit redial. It doesn’t even ring. “Hey, this is Bridg—” Fuck! What’s going on, Angel? And why the hell is there so much traffic right now! “Move!” I slam on my horn and swerve around a car. Breaking every traffic law is still not getting me there fast enough. The last time she was with me, something seemed off and it was because of that prick, I know it. I shouldn’t have let her go back there. Hating me or not.

I blow through another red light while stabbing in a phone number. “Fucking answer, dammit.” It rings three times, and my stomach drops, knowing it’s going to go to voicemail again.

“Seriously, stop calling me, Chase. I have nothing to say—”

“Hannah, listen to me. It’s about Bridget.”

“I’m sure it is, and I told—”

“Shut up for a fucking second! I think something’s up. Have you spoken to her in the last couple hours?”

She takes too long to respond. “Hannah!”

“No, I haven’t spoken to her since last week.”

Dammit. “Has she ever expressed any issues with her boss? Like he’s a creep or makes her uncomfortable?”

“Chase, where are you going with—”

“Answer me!”

“Calm down. No, she hasn’t. Should I be worried?” I speed up. Something is definitely wrong. If that motherfucker did something to her, he’s a dead man. “Chase, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

What’s going on is I should have never let her go. “I’ve got a bad feeling. I’m headed to her now.” I hang up on her and dial Bridget again. When it goes straight to voicemail, my nerves shoot from worried to terrified. My pulse races. I weave in and out of traffic, my eyes glancing at the clock. Every second that passes sends a tremor of fear to my gut. It could be nothing. You’re going to show up and she’s going to slap you. I don’t care if she kicks my ass, so long as she’s okay.

The turn for the estate comes into view, and my truck fishtails as I take a hard right into the driveway. I barely have the truck in park before I jump out and run to the guesthouse. A sharp blast ricochets from inside, and I jolt back. “Bridget!”

Chapter 26

Bridget

“Baby girl, wake up.”

My eyelids are heavy. “I’m too tired,” I whisper, falling deeper into slumber.

“Baby girl, I need you to wake up.”

A chill washes over me. I shiver, feeling the coldness in my bones. I just want him to cocoon his affection around me. “I’m cold,” I whimper. I just want to warm up.

“I know you are. But you have to wake up and fight.”

What am I fighting for? “Wake up, Bridget. Wake—”

“Wake up, you little bitch!”

A blast of cold water slaps at my face. I shoot forward, gasping for air. The sudden movement turns my stomach. My vision clouds. I reach out to touch my head and wince at the pain. When I pull back, my fingers are coated in red. I try to stand, but I sway and fall back to the ground. “What…?” I struggle to comprehend what’s happened. How long have I been unconscious? Oh God, Anna. I make another attempt, only to smack back against the floor.

“About time. That’s the third glass of water. About thought I killed ya.”

My eyes slowly raise in front of me. Pain radiates from my skull. I wipe dripping water away from my eyes, and I suck in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?” Through my blurred vision, standing inside the guesthouse, I stare up at Mrs. Taylor.

“What does it look like I’m doing, you little brat?” She makes a swift move, hurling herself at me, and I skid back, pressing my back against the couch. “I’m finally collecting what’s owed to me. And you owe me.” She’s so close, I can smell the stench of booze on her breath.

“What do you think I owe you? I had nothing to do with Jax’s death. I loved him—”

“You didn’t love him! You used him! You were gonna take him away from me.” She raises her hand and points a gun at me.

I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut, and raise my hands up in defense. “No, that’s not true. I never would’ve done that.” I open my eyes to plead with her. “Please. I knew he was helping you. He loved you so much.”

“Shut up.” She cocks her hand back and slaps me across the face.

I clutch my cheek, whimpering at the pain. “He wanted to take care of you. We both did.”

“I said shut up!” Her face reddens with anger. Her jittery hand clenches around the trigger. “You didn’t love him. You made him leave. You took everything from me.”