One lesson my father taught me early—consequences are a bitch. He’ll be learning that one as well.
“How many feet away is he?”
“What?” Christian seethes.
“Is he breaking the restraining order?” Anger-later. Vengeance-later. Now, we calculate.
“He is.”
“Send the footage to Sherman, the sheriff’s office, and CBI. See if we can get an APB on his vehicle.” I rattle off the plate number, year, make, and model as I pace.
I also take the time to search my fucking father’s phone, triangulate the signal, and begin tracking. I send that to Christian as well.
“I’m pursuing.” I rip through his office door, only to be stopped with a firm, tan hand on my chest. I stare down at it, knowing that ripping it from his body will do me no good, but making sure he knows my feelings all the same.
“Wait. You need a man at your back.”
I shake my head. “Stay with Ayla.”
“Fitz,” he proposes.
“Fine.” Before the word has left my mouth, the man in question pushes through the door. “You’re with me.”
Christian is barking into his phone as I leave.
I give one last glance at my family, at my nephew and my nieces, and hope it’s not my last.
60
bongos in my brain
Lorien
My head pounds. It has its own heartbeat… or its own bass drum. When I first moved to Denver and was massively dehydrated, it didn’t hurt this bad.
The constantboom-boom-boomis hard to think past. I fight to, though that’s instinct alone. I’m in the cargo area of a massive SUV. The emblems everywhere indicate its luxury and expense.
There’s talking, but I strain to listen over the bongos in my brain. For a split second, I think my sister, Sam, would be disappointed my brain didn’t conjure steel drums, but it’s only because the hollow twang of that would be welcome against the throbbing currently clobbering my skull.
What a stupid thought when I’m in the situation I’m in.
And I’m in one for sure.
I don’t know the man who was on Ayla’s back deck. But he surely wasn’t on their payroll, as is evidenced by my current trunk position.
What I do know is he underestimates Liam’s protectiveness, and the devotion his siblings and in-laws have for him. That combination becomes a man on a mission with resources and manpower.
He also underestimates me, which I can use to my advantage. I’m neither bound nor gagged. Did he assume that whatever’smaking me want to pull my head off my own neck would actually kill me?
Or did he think I am too stupid or too weak to fight if I did wake?
The first I can’t control. The second, though… he’s in for a rude awakening.
As quietly as possible, I feel the area where I lie. It’s rubbery and has ridges. An all-weather mat maybe? There are no tools or anything I can use to defend myself. I’m tossed around as we make a sharp exit at speed, before halting completely. I hold my breath, making no sound, listening past the throbbing.
“Turn right.”
“I know where I’m going and I know how to get there.”
