Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
The house sits back from the main road. Not that it matters all that much. The houses are spread out, acres between them, and backed up against the woods.
I walk around the front of the Bronco as Madeline is slipping out of the passenger seat. I shut the door quietly before I back her up against it.
Her eyes widen momentarily, the moon bright enough to give us a good amount of light. I cup her face in both my hands, pressing my forehead to hers. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
If it were only me right now, it would be a different kind of adrenaline pumping through me, ready for a fight, but the stakes have changed, and for once in my life, I have something to lose. Something that can’t ever be replaced. She might as well take me right along with her if anything were to happen to her.
“I need you to listen to me,” I say, low but urgent, needing her to understand me right now. Really fucking understand me. “From this point on, no pushback. You do what I say, when I say it.”
Her face softens. She nods her head slightly, then tilts her chin up and kisses me, hard but brief.
“I’ll follow all your orders,” she agrees.
“Thank you.” I feel a bit of pressure release off me, but not much. I’m starting to understand why people say they need to fight or fuck. I always just fought, but yeah, Madeline could take that edge right off if I needed, or she could have it roaring to life.
“Hey”—she pats my stomach—“this is only for the next hour,” she quips, a ghost of her usual teasing in her voice, but the moment grows serious again quickly.
I let her go, keeping her beside me but still partly behind so I can quickly step in front of her.
The single-story house comes into view ahead of us. Plain cedar siding, dark windows, not a flower or wreath or anything that suggests a woman ever lived here. It’s a simple functional cabin in the woods, built for working men who don’t spend much time indoors. There is only one light on, and it’s on the front porch.
But it’s the metal garage barn off to the side that catches my attention. Big enough for three bays. That’s the kind of place where you could make a mess and easily hose it down after.
“Not the house,” I murmur to Madeline. “The garage.”
She nods, understanding without me having to explain. Georgia and Grant fall in behind us, quiet, and we keep to the shadows the best we can.
One of the bay doors is partly open at the end, light spilling out onto the concrete slab in front of it. As we move closer, I can hear a voice, low and rhythmic.
I motion for Grant to circle around the back. Got you, he mouths before he melts into the darkness without a word. Georgia stays close to Madeline, her hand clamped over her mouth like she’s trying to keep herself from making a sound.
We edge toward the opening. I hold my arm out so they know to stay behind me as I peer inside.
Emily is there, tied to a chair in the center of the concrete floor, a piece of duct tape across her mouth. She’s conscious, eyes wide and terrified, tracking Joey as he paces in front of her. I spot the silver blade in his hand—a knife, long and thin. He turns it over in his hands like he’s examining a tool.
“…should have listened to me,” Joey is saying, his voice weirdly calm and… giddy? “I told you Murphy was dangerous. I told you she was going to ruin everything. Ruin you. But you didn’t believe me. Do you believe me now?” I can see from his profile a creepy smile taking over his face. Holy fuck, does this dipshit think he’s out here playing the joker?
Emily makes a muffled sound against the tape. Joey stops pacing and crouches down in front of her.
“But you didn’t care. Just like my mother. You think you’re too good for me.” He slowly stands again. “Bet you’re not thinking that now, are you? Bet you’d beg for me to keep you,” he says, the last part almost tenderly. “I took care of her. For us. Just like Dad took care of my mother. We protect what’s ours.”
I don’t even understand half the bullshit this motherfucker is saying. He’s got his own story playing out in his head. The reality is neither of these dipshits can handle rejection. Tears start to roll down Emily’s cheeks. She might be getting the same sense that I am. He’s going to strike soon. If he planned to keep her like a little captive, she’d be in the house locked away. Unless this is all to scare her first.