He raised his arm, trying to block her attack, but the glass sliced the skin at his open collar. Blood gushed from his neck, spraying her clothes and the floor.
Cameron’s dark eyes went wide with shock. Before he could react, she drove her knee into his crotch. He grunted, crunching forward.
Laine tore her arm from his grasp and ran for the door. Her pulse roared through her veins and fear locked her knees, making her flight clumsy.
She closed in on the door. She had to get it shut and locked before he reached her. Cameron’s weight slammed against her back. She flung out her hands to break her fall as the floor rushed up to meet her face.
Her nose narrowly missed bashing into the cement. Hysterical gasps escaped her lips as she jerked and bucked, but she couldn’t throw him off her.
Rough hands seized her shoulders and spun her onto her back. Dread sucked all the color from her vision except the bright crimson coating Cameron’s neck.
His large black pupils were charged with loathing. “You lying bitch.”
Wham!
Her head bounced off the floor. Stars blipped on the insides of her eyelids. She blinked rapidly and bit back a scream, not daring to wake Emmy.
The blows kept coming.
She couldn’t block his fierce palms. His rough slaps.
Then his knuckles plowed against her left eye.
Everything went dark.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
“You made a mistake trusting me to protect her, my friend,” Roarke muttered aloud, sending the words to wherever Twist was beyond this life.
He stood in the damn bedroom of the rental wishing the walls would go up in flames. Anger, hot and violent, streaked across his scalp in scorching waves. Christ, he’d never been so furious.
Furious at Twist for dying. Furious at God.
Most of all, furious at himself.
He stared down at Big Bun’s sad eyes. Even the stuffed animal was fucking heart broken. Emmy would be even more upset without it. He jammed the animal in the pocket of his cargos.
Expelling a deep breath, his lungs burned with the effort. Locking his laced hands at the back of his neck, he stared up at the ceiling wishing Twist could respond, give a sign, or just fucking help his sister and niece given that Roarke’s hands were so brutally tied.
“I know I fucked up. We need you now, Twist. Point us to them—” He closed his eyes. Jesus, he sounded like an idiot. “Fuck.”
“We got ’em.”
Roarke spun to face Viper, ignoring the twinge in his neck the rapid movement caused. His friend had just appeared in the doorway. “You what?”
“Got them, man. Well, we’ve got a location. Come on.”
For half a second, Roarke stood immobilized as Viper left the room. He’d never been a spiritual person, but tingling awareness dusted itself across his skin. Gratitude stung his eyes. “Thanks, buddy.”
Maybe later he could process whether it’d been a coincidence or supernatural. For now, they were nowhere near out of the woods. He raced from the bedroom and into the office across the hall.
Viper leaned back against the desk, and Wraith’s self-satisfied smirk was probably visible in outer space. “Ye of little faith,” the asshole said with a snicker, shaking his head.
Roarke snorted. “Don’t act like you didn’t have doubts,” he said to Wraith, as he nudged him out of the way so he could get a better view of the computer screen.
Wraith gave Roarke room at the desk from where he stood, the stupid grin still on his face. “Nah, never.”
