“Robert, what’s going on?”
“Pendleton’s got Jessie, and he’s armed.”
“Please tell me you’re not going after him alone. Have you got back up?”
“Contact the Pasco police and have them send some. I have to go.”
He should have brought some of his own deputies, but they were needed at the fire, and he couldn’t wait for the Pasco police to arrive.
He needed to get to Jessie now.
* * *
Jessie’s stomachlurched when the car came to a stop much sooner than she expected, although it felt like they’d been driving forever. She was both relieved Patrick wasn’t taking her any farther away from Robert and scared to death about what he intended to do to her.
She checked the floor behind the front passenger seat, where she’d hidden her cell phone to make sure it wasn’t visible. If Patrick killed her and left her here—wherever here was—he’d take evidence with him.
He opened the back door. “Get out!”
Jessie scooted from the car. Her stomach took a nosedive at the sight of the dilapidated motel surrounded by barren fields. Only two other cars sat in the long, narrow parking lot.
Nowhere to run and no one to hear her scream.
The fear that filled her, combined with the morning sickness and car sickness, was all it took to bring her lunch up. She tried to turn away from Patrick, but he had her pinned against the car.
She tried to shove him back, but he didn’t budge. “I’m going to be sick!”
Patrick jumped back, but not fast enough. Vomit splattered his jeans and shoes. He let loose a string of swear words.
He grabbed Jessie’s arm in a bruising grip and dragged her toward the motel. Fishing a key from his pocket, he unlocked the door, cursing the entire time.
She grabbed the door frame as he tried to push her into the room. If he got her behind closed doors, she was in trouble. The chance of someone seeing them out here was slim, but at least there was a chance. He’d be less likely to hurt her if they had an audience.
Patrick leaned against her back with the gun pressed to her ribs. His breath, hot against her ear, sent a shudder of revulsion through her. “If you don’t move, Jessica, I will move you.”
Before she could even shift her body, he wrapped a hand around her waist. His palm pressed against her slightly rounded abdomen. He gasped and shifted his hand across her stomach, feeling the swell of the child that grew inside her.
Without warning, he shoved her through the door. “You filthy little—” Not even the slamming of the door could mute the string of vile labels he hurled at her.
Jessie stumbled into the dim hotel room, catching herself against the bed. She stood and backed away from him, placing a protective hand on her stomach.
He pointed the gun at her, a sneer on his face. “You must have jumped into bed with him the day you left me.”
It was clear he thought she carried was Robert’s child, and Jessie didn’t bother to correct him. Patrick was so far gone right now she doubted knowing the baby was his would change anything.
“No, the day I left you, I spent the night in the hospital with a concussion and a broken wrist.”
Patrick whirled on her, leveling the gun at her abdomen. He pulled a dingy padded chair away from a small desk. “Sit!” He motioned to the chair with the gun. “And don’t even think about moving.”
Jessie thought about moving alright. She thought about bolting out the door and screaming for help. But Patrick stood between her and the door, and there was no one outside to help her.
She sank into the chair but stayed wary, her eyes never leaving him. When he unzipped his pants, Jessie realized he intended to change out of the vomit covered jeans. She let her eyes roam the room, searching for something—anything—she could use as a weapon.
She grimaced at the dingy olive-green bedspread as the stench in the room hit her—a musty combination of dust, stale body odor, and bodily fluids.
She shuddered.What a dive!
Why had Patrick rented a room in such a seedy motel?
