Sparrow

Crap.

I swallowed. “Don’t bother, I won’t try to run again.”

“Thanks a fucking bunch, like I’d take your word for it.” He tried to laugh, but held his lower ribs. I’d hurt him. “You did a good job on Connor, and I should have done it before I even gave you the shovel. Left. Or. Right?”

I sighed, closing my eyes. Whatever he wanted to do, he’d do it with or without my permission. I didn’t want to beg.

“Right,” I answered.

“Good choice,” he said, grunting as he swung the shovel and slammed it straight down into my right foot.

I was still lying in the hole.

I didn’t cry out.

I didn’t even wince.

I felt sharp poke in my skin, inside my running shoe, like something had shattered or snapped. A bone, probably. I knew it was bad, but the pain felt distant, removed. I stared at him, my eyes cold, my expression aloof, and awaited further instructions. The fact I barely felt any pain hurt me more than anything.

“What now?” I asked.

“Now you get up, and you continue digging.”

TROY

WHERE COULD THEY be?

Anywhere. An apartment I don’t know about that Brock had rented? A hotel, a motel, a barn somewhere, the woods, a lake, a basement? The options were limitless.

Where could they fucking be? Were they still in Boston? Were they on a plane going somewhere? No, they weren’t on a plane. I would know. That’s what I paid Jensen for. To let me know shit like that. Anyway, Sparrow didn’t have her passport. I did. And her new driver’s license would be in her wallet. She wouldn’t go jogging at five a.m. with a wallet.

What was I worrying about planes for? If Brock had her, she for damned sure wasn’t with him willingly. They wouldn’t be strolling through security. I felt sure they were somewhere close enough to drive, and wherever they were, I needed to find her fast.

The cab pulled up to the curb at Cat’s house, and I jumped out, instructing the driver to wait for me. I pounded on the front door so violently the windows rattled. Cat opened up, wide-eyed and obviously startled. She knew I meant business, because she looked more concerned than pleased to see me.

“What’s going on?” Her forehead wrinkled, her short, skanky skirt swaying from rushing to the door.

“Where’s your husband?” I strode right in. I wouldn’t put it past Cat to let Brock keep Sparrow here. Didn’t trust either of them. I might have been paranoid, but fuck it, they gave me every reason to suspect them.

“I have no clue. What the hell? Why are you looking for him?” She rushed behind me.

I climbed the stairs two at a time and started throwing doors open upstairs, Sam’s room included. When his door flew inward and banged hard against the wall, he looked confused. He sat at a plastic children’s table, with little trucks lined up neatly in front of him.

“Umm, hi, Mr. Troy?”

“Hey, Sam.” I hesitated for a moment to take one last look at him before I did something I knew he might hate me for the rest of his life. “Have you seen your dad around?”

“Not today,” he murmured, wheeling a truck to the edge of the table. He let it drop to the floor and made an explosive sound with his little mouth.

“Okay, bud. Be good.” Don’t do any stupid shit, I wanted to add. None of the stuff Brock and I did. None of the crap Cillian and David Kavanagh did, either.

“I will.” He smiled at me as he picked up the truck from the floor and placed it back on the table.

Crap. So innocent. And Brock wasn’t here. Fuck.

I turned to Cat, who was watching us from the hallway, and joined her pulling the door to Sam’s room closed us so he wouldn’t hear us. “You tracking your husband through GPS?”

“No,” she said. “Why?”

“Let me ask again.” I put my hand on her neck, not applying any real pressure, but hating the fact that I was losing control over the situation, and fast. “Can you tell me where his phone is through GPS or not? You don’t want to lie to me, Cat. This is the one time I won’t be so forgiving.”

She looked down, chewing on her lip. “Is it about her?”

God-fucking-dammit. I didn’t have time for this

“Catalina!” I slammed my fist against the wall behind her. I was lucky it was the opposite side of the hall from Sam’s room, because it sounded like a bomb had exploded. “Answer me before I tear your fucking house apart.”

“Fine! Yes! Of course I can freaking track him through his phone.”

I knew it. If there was one miserable thing Cat and I had in common, it was that we craved control over our lovers. She wanted to track Brock for the same reason I wanted to know where Red was all the time. We both knew we weren’t good enough.