“I just know it will hurt. She’ll make his last moments miserable.’’
Dad hums. “Of course. That’s the least she can do after we’ve failed Jane.’’
Silence falls, and he doesn’t speak, and neither do I. My memories of Aunt Jane aren’t as great as I’d like them to be; I was just a child when she was murdered. But I’ll never forget Mom’s crying at her grave, the guilt that never left her for failing her sister and niece.
Just like how I failed Blair.
“Arlo,’’ Dad’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. “He’s leaving.’’
My eyes dip down to the screen, and sure enough, the table he was at is now empty. I make sure to save all the footage so I’d be able to find out who the other man is at a later date, then close the laptop and leave the car.
Dad’s presence is something no man alive can ignore. Even if he’s ten feet behind me, I can sense him. He’s left the car, too, walking slowly behind me, waiting for my instructions. Usually, he’d be the one to make the first move, but now? He’ll never get in my way of finding Blair.
The crisp air hits my face, and my hand reaches for the gun.My fingers tighten around the deadly object, my footsteps as silent as the night around us. Right now, Alexander is the prey, and he cannot even see the predators coming.
Yet, his back straightens as he walks toward his car. He isn’t sensing me — I know just how to move, how to ensure no one would ever fucking sense me. But he’s sensing the presence of the devil himself, my father.
I glance over my shoulder at Dad, our eyes locking for a brief moment. The conversation is silent, and he nods, understanding the intensity of my gaze. With a deep breath, I quicken my pace.
Alexander doesn’t hear me; he doesn’t see me coming. My hand wraps around his wrist, pulling it backward, locking it tightly on his back. A scream comes from his throat, and it’s enough to have me release the gun from my other hand, placing my palm over his mouth.
He slumps to his knees, the pain getting unbearable. One little twist to the right, and his shoulder would pop out of its socket. I lean in, my mouth next to his ear.
“Keep your mouth shut if you want to see morning,’’ I warn, keeping my voice steady.
He nods furiously.
I keep him at bay for another couple of seconds, then push him forward, releasing him. He slumps down, whipping his head around to look at me. His eyes are wide, but not in recognition. No, he’s scared shitless, just because someone managed to sneak up to him — which wasn’t difficult at all.
Quickly, I pick up my gun. It’s next to my body, not aimed at him. I don’t need to aim it at him for the bastard to get the message. His eyes flick between my face and the gun, then behind me. Hudson steps closer, and my head lifts a little.
“Who are you?”
“Your worst nightmare,’’ I draw out. “If you don’t tell mewhat I need to know, that is.’’
Dad snorts from behind me, trying to cover it up with a cough.
Now that I’m looking at Alexander, I definitely see the resemblance. Same high cheekbones, the same nose shape, the same freckles dusted over his face. But his eyes, they’re different. Not just in shape, but in the way he’s looking at me, too.
The kindness, the fire I’m used to seeing in Blair aren’t there. All I can see is a shell of a man, a pathetic excuse of a human, trying his best to mask it all and give the air of indifference.
“What do you want to know?” He asks, slowly rising to his feet. His movements are careful, as if he’s scared of poking the bear. He doesn’t move his eyes from me, in case I try to kill him, blow his brains out with the gun I’m holding.
“I want to know a lot of things.” I take a menacing, slow step forward, and he takes one step back, hitting the door of his car. He’s trapped, and realization dawns on him quickly. “Right now, I want to know how you’re connected to Paul Simmons and Adam Nelson.’’
His face goes slack, his skin paling a shade. He’s silent, mouth slightly open. He didn’t expect anyone to ask that, let alone a random man that he’s never met, who subtly threatened him with a gun.
He tries to regain his composure, straightening his back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.’’
The lie falls flat, and I sigh. I’m disappointed and starting to get very angry. All of this is taking too much time, and the clock is ticking. If I don’t find Blair soon, it’s a question if I’ll even find her alive.
“Wrong answer,’’ Dad responds before I get the chance to, stepping forward. In an instant, he lifts his gun and whacks the side of Alexander’s head. The man falls down with a loud thud, bleeding from the wound, unconscious.
“You better not have killed him.’’
He rolls his eyes. “What is this? Amateur hour? Of course I didn’t kill him. Now, help me get him to the car, and we’ll take him to his buddy Nelson. Perhaps being forced together will get either of them talking.’’
THREE
