Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I shake my head. The fucking animals. Of course. She'd leave my bed in a heartbeat if one of her precious mutts was in trouble.
I watch the screen as they disappear inside the cabin and shove out of the chair, ready to stomp out to the cabin and murder someone.
"Wait," Hayes says, and I glance back at the screen. “It looks like there is more…”
A few minutes later, Yanov exits the cabin with Ely flung over his shoulder. The guard doesn’t follow.
I turn and punch the wall, pain rippling across my knuckles as the skin breaks. I’m fine with the pain. I welcome it, even more so with the reality that Ely is out there in the hands of a madman.
My pain is nothing.
"You better start explaining what the fuck I’m looking at, or I’m going to assume you allowed a psychopath to abduct my girl, and you don’t want that because it will mean I destroy you completely.” I advance on the now-trembling man.
“Please…it’s not what you think.”
“Oh really? How so? Because it looks a lot like you knew what was happening and not only that, but you allowed it to happen. Did you go out there to help him?”
He shakes his head frantically. "No. I only knew something was wrong when I saw the man carry her out of the cabin. I went out there immediately to see what was going on, to help her, make sure she was okay. I didn’t know who that man was or what he was doing, but I also knew there was no reason for him to be carrying around an unconscious girl.” His hands spread wide in the classic gesture of innocence as he takes a step back. “I swear it, boss. I wouldn’t betray you. I’d never.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and force myself to breathe, in…out. It’s the only attempt I have at calming myself, and it doesn’t help. It doesn’t take the edge off the slow fury boiling in my veins.
"Hayes, I’m going to take you at your word. For now. If he comes back, or you hear anything, call me immediately. And for the record," I jab my finger toward the screen. “That is the asshole I told you guys to block from the premises weeks ago. Check your fucking emails.”
I turn to the weapon locker, punch in the code, and grab one of the knives on the top shelf. These weapons don't get much use, but then again, I’ve never really had a reason to use them. That changes today.
Fueled by rage and the need for revenge, I stalk back up the stairs. My gut coils, and I’m unsure what to do with this force inside me threatening to spill over.
Yanov. Even the thought of his name makes me want to destroy everything. Try as I may, I haven’t been able to dig anything up on him. Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I hit the contact button for Grady, my PI, and wait impatiently as the phone rings and rings.
My grasp on the cell phone tightens with every passing second. When it finally goes to voicemail, I curse and consider throwing the thing. The desire to break something, to watch it shatter into a million pieces, consumes me.
No. What if I need to call someone? What if she calls me, and I miss it because of some stupid, reckless choice? I swallow down the impulse.
Fuck it. If he won’t answer the phone then I’ll go to his place.
Let him try to send me to voicemail then.
I stalk into the garage and slide into the front seat of the first car I spot, my cherry red Porsche. The engine revs with life when I start it and back out of the garage.
As soon as I shift to drive, I slam my foot on the gas. The tires screech across the pavement as I take off down the driveway. Grady lives in downtown Oakmount, where a good portion of the city’s people live. It’s a combination of middle class and low class and takes all of ten minutes to drive to.
It’s probably stupid to drive the Porsche versus something a little more low-key, a fact cemented as soon as I park at the curb of a rundown three story building. Anyone up at this ungodly hour is going to know something is up.
I shove the worrying thoughts away and grab my knife, lock the car doors, and head into the building. The outer door and the elevator are both open, with no security.
I stop outside Grady's door and bang on it a few times. There’s no answer.
Slowly, I turn and press my knuckles to the wall, shaking as I try to breathe through this fury, through this fear I can only channel into rage.
I pound on the door again, this time harder, but it devolves from pounding to kicking, to slamming my foot into the metal until it opens.