Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I looked up to see someone in a black ski mask, holding a familiar type of Glock, heaving Macy over his shoulder, and all I could think of was the sound of her screams as he took her out to the old, grey car parked outside.
Not thinking about the gun or the fact that this piece of shit was still firing off anywhere he could think of, I ran after him, grabbing my keys from the table and taking a second to curse myself for giving up my sidearm.
I ducked as he fired another bullet at me out of his car window, but even more terrifying than that was the fact that Macy had stopped screaming. I tore after him down the road, Bucky riding shotgun, not thinking of the dark canyons we were driving past or the fact that I’d probably left the door open.
Suddenly, the lights of the other car turned off, and I knew a moment of sheer, blinding panic as I thought of Macy in that car, being driven by a psychopath, before I completely lost them in the dark. I pulled off the road and parked, taking a second.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!” I screamed, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. How could this have happened?
I couldn’t think of anything but getting Macy back, and I also knew that there was no way I’d be able to do that on my own.
I put the car back in drive and made a beeline for Hank’s, barely registering the fact that I was barefoot, and I’d forgotten my wallet and everything else at home. By the time I pulled up, I was just shy of hyperventilating as I pounded on the door.
Soft, padding steps came up, and I was surprised, somehow, to see Nadine looking up at me. “Dillon? What’s wrong?”
“Hi, Nadine. I’m sorry about the time, but I have to talk to Hank. Right now.”
“Honey, come in. Have something to—”
“I don’t have time,” I almost yelled. “I just need your husband.”
“Whoa, Dillon,” he said as he came out, looking over at me with anger and frustration that quickly turned to worry. “What’s going on?”
“He found us,” I managed to get out. “I don’t know how, but he found us, and he just took her.”
“What do you mean he found you?” he asked.
“What’s going on? Who are we talking about?” Nadine asked, looking from one of us to the other.
“I mean the fucker somehow found out where I was living, tracked her to my house, and just shot at me before kidnapping her!” I yelled. I was past rationality.
Nadine’s face went white, and she covered her mouth before turning to her husband. “Take him to see Jim, right now.”
I breathed at the sound of the sheriff’s name, who I’d had some differences with. “Jesus, Nadine. Jim and I—”
“Yes, yes, but what do you think you’ll be able to do without their resources?” she asked impatiently. “Leave Bucky here with me. I’ll take care of him.” She looked down at my feet for a second before turning back to Hank. “Get him some shoes too.”
24
MACY
“Don’t you worry, honey. When we get home, we’ll be able to put all of this behind us.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing as he finished tying me to the chair in the hotel room, finally looking me in the face and reaching over to touch me on the cheek. I couldn’t help flinching back from his touch, wanting so badly to jump up and go over to the sink to wash his touch off my face. From all the things that have made me nauseous these past few weeks, I would love to throw up on him right then and there to show my disgust.
He didn’t even seem to register my wince of demise as he walked away from me, heading over to the bed and sitting down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he looked at me entreatingly. I’d seen him turn that look on a jury before and knew just how convincing it could be.
He was playing with me, and I didn’t know whether to be more insulted by the fact that he clearly didn’t see me as my own person or that he’d never expected me to fight back.
In the end, though, I guess it all came down to being angry about the same thing.
“You know,” he said, fixing me with that steady stare from his warm brown eyes that I’d always believed held love—without realizing they were just hiding an empty soul—and saying in his most imploring tone, “you left quite the mess for me to clean up, sweetheart. It hasn’t been easy since you left.”
I bit down on my tongue, hard, and felt the pain in my head from the strain of the muscles. I hadn’t made it easy for him to take me from the cabin, and I’d fought like a wildcat to get away from him once he got me into the car. I’d thrashed pretty intensely when he threw me over his shoulder, but there was a big enough difference in our sizes that it hadn’t done much good. When he’d driven us away, I hadn’t stopped screaming for Dillon as we’d driven off into the dark until I’d felt a hard pain against the back of my skull, and everything had gone black. Even then, I think I’d mumbled his name as I fell unconscious.