In the span of just under two hours, I think Carter and I asked Kill if she had moved several hundred times. There was only one time when she moved, and we all panicked until she returned. We all know why she did this, but it’s still unbelievable that she would hand herself over to men like her father and Grave. She knows the torture she would endure because she’s fucking been through it before. Our girl is smarter than this. She must know we would never want this. I’d gladly die for her to be spared this kind of abuse. Carter and Kill are angry with her. My emotions are warring with each other. One second I’m raging with fury bubbling up in my chest. And the next, my chest squeezes painfully with pure anguish.
Why, Tesoro, why?
The pilot announces that he’s making the final descent into Kansas City, and I say a silent prayer that she’ll still be in the same place by the time we get there. It’s interesting how in times of trouble we turn to a God we aren’t even sure exists. When you find someone as perfect and angelic as Heather, it makes you wonder how something so beautiful could exist without divine intervention.
Bones looks at Kill and says, “There are two cars waiting for us because there’s too many of us for one. Your driver knows where you’re going.”
The plane lands, and we all rush to get out and get to Heather. According to Benji, she’s about forty-five minutes from the airport, which is too fucking far. Carter keeps asking what she’s doing, but none of us has an answer. I just hope she stays put.
We pile into the car, and the driver puts our belongings into the back before quickly getting back in the car and taking off. He doesn’t speak a word as he accelerates the car, moving fast away from the airport into the traffic.
We don’t speak to each other either. Instead, we all tap a foot anxiously while worrying that we will be too late. Of course, we will go after her regardless of where her tracker shows she is. We want to find her before she is with those assholes—before they have a chance to hurt her. Because they will. And it will probably happen fast. They may even kill her immediately. The thought that she may be gone before we even get to her makes me physically sick. Kill glances at me and shakes his head, admonishing me.
“Don’t do that to yourself. We will find her safe. Believe that because there cannot be another outcome.”
The phone rings in Kill's hand, and he answers it on speakerphone with a puzzled expression on his face, causing the anxiety in my chest to build.
“I’m surprised, Mr. Bonetti. If you could’ve seen the look on my face when I was told you requested the fight to be canceled in exchange for Heather returning home.”
He chuckles loudly, sounding like a goddamn maniac.
“Jedediah has asked me to honor it, and I’m willing to, for a price. One million dollars, a bargain considering what I would’ve made with this fight.”
Killian growls into the phone.
“I have requested no such thing. I will be there for the fight, and I’ll fucking win.”
We can hear this psychopath clapping his hands with glee.
“Fantastic! I’ll let Jedediah know the fight is still on.”
Kill disconnects the call and immediately goes back to the tracker. He breathes out a sigh of relief.
“She is still there, but obviously contact has been made. We are running out of time.”
The driver turns on lights and sirens and we glance at each other with worry. Have we been set up?
“You’re a cop?” Carter asks.
He chuckles softly.
“Definitely not. But everyone on the road will think I am. And this way you’ll get there faster. It sounds like time is critical.”
The phone rings again and Kill answers it.
“We have eyes on the room. How far out are you?”
The driver answers quickly.
“Three minutes, Boss.”
I rub the spot on my chest that aches. In three minutes, we will either get to our girl or our world ends.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
KILLIAN
He stops at a seedy fucking motel, only causing my fury with her to rise exponentially. What the hell was she thinking? This is probably the scene of so many rapes. One look will tell you women should not be here alone.
