Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Chapter 10
Easton
I jump into my car and start the engine. Jill rushes toward the car and knocks on the windows. “Sir. Sir!”
I roll it down.
“What are you doing without a driver? You could be killed,” she says.
“Nick’s in the back seat,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “He’ll protect me.”
Jill throws him a look and then me. “Sir, you’ve got to be kidding me. This is highly unsafe and against protocol.”
“Screw the fucking protocol,” I say, shifting the gear. “I’m going to get that little girl and bring Charlotte home.”
I drive off before she can say any more. I know she’s only worried, but I need to do this on my own. Davis plotted against me, moving without my knowledge and without giving me the information he vowed to give me. And now he’s going to pay for it.
As fast as I can, I drive toward the house where his men lay low. It’s a suburban house in the middle of the city Davis has always used as a second home here in the Netherlands. I’ve known about this place for years after tracking his and his men’s movements. It’s the only place they could’ve taken her without attracting too much attention. A perfect place to hide a little girl.
When I finally arrived, I park the car and immediately walk up to the house with Nick tagging behind me.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “Be ready.”
He nods and shows me the holster of his gun tucked underneath his shirt.
Without hesitation, I ring the doorbell and wait. The moment someone opens the door, Nick steps in front of me with his gun pointed straight at the man’s head.
“Don’t make a sound,” Nick says with a calm voice.
The guy sucks in the words he was about to spit at us. He briefly glances at me over Nick’s shoulder.
“Where’s the girl?” I ask.
The man nods to the side toward the living room. Nick presses the gun to his forehead and forces him to move inside. We go through the hallway and into the living room where a bunch of guys is watching the television, completely oblivious to our entry. There’s a little girl in the back of the room playing with a few dolls, but she lifts her head the moment she spots me, and her eyes are filled with fear.
Nick directs the guy to walk, forcing him to alert his buddies.
“Um … guys …”
They all turn their heads and reach for their pockets, but Nick’s quicker and shoots at the chair, killing one from behind without a drop of blood visible from the front. Wouldn’t want to scare the kid. I’m glad I told Nick to put a silencer on his gun.
“The kid comes with us,” I say.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of the two remaining guys asks.
Nick points his gun at him, and the guy immediately raises his hands. “All right, all right. I’m not looking for trouble, sheesh.” He shakes his head. “No one told us this would be a dangerous job. I thought we were supposed to babysit a girl, and that’s it.”
“I don’t know, dude,” the guy who opened the door responds.
The little girl eyes me, and I nod at her, holding out my hand. “C’mon. I won’t hurt you.”
She glares at me with her chestnut eyes but doesn’t move an inch.
I go to my knees, and say, “I’ll take you back to your family.”
She narrows her eyes and rubs her lips together. Then she drops the doll and immediately runs toward me. I grab her and hold on tight while she spins in my arms. The men throw her a look, and she sticks out her tongue.
“Nick,” I murmur as I get up.
“I know,” he replies. “Go on ahead. I’ll be waiting for you at the house.”
I nod. He knows what’s expected. It’s what he always does for me, no questions asked.
And as I turn around with the girl in my arms and go outside, closing the door behind me, there are three consecutive poofs … then silence.
Time to bring a missing daughter back home.
Charlotte
The minute hand on the clock moves slower than a snail as I sit on the couch and stare at it. The cup of tea Deion made sits untouched on the coffee table. It’s probably cold by now, but I don’t remember how long it’s been there either. Or how long Deion’s been sitting right next to me.
The silence is uncomfortable. I shift in my seat, and the couch creaks under my weight as though I’ve become the same size as the elephant in this room.
My thoughts are racing—churning and spitting out ideas and possible outcomes—but they all revert to one point. And the moment that doorbell rings, I’m ready.
I’ve been through all the options, weighed them and crossed them off until all that remained was this one. The one where I stand like a zombie, briefly held back by Deion who clutches my hand and squeezes tight before releasing. And I walk to the door and open it.