by Brandi Evans
I sucked in another breath, deeper than before, and managed to push onto my elbow. I turned to see if Karen was okay, and a scream of absolute terror split me in half.
The blood, all the fucking blood.
The scream had barely left my mouth when many, many someones surrounded me—Max's security detail—grabbed me, and dragged me away from my friend. I fought their hold, but I might as well be using toothpicks to row a boat in a storm.
"Karen!" I shouted. "Karen!"
No, Karen, oh god, Karen. The sight of her cream-colored shirt wet with blood was still excruciatingly vivid in my mind.
I tried to visualize the closet Dr. Marcus had taught me to use, but my brain was raging with too many thoughts to control. I was in freefall.
I opened my mouth to call for my friend again, but the sound of Garrett's grief-stricken bass broke through the frantic discord in my head. The fight slid out of me like water through a colander. I think my heart may have even stopped.
Oh, god. Garrett.
I shook my head, too, hoping to stave off this imminent breakdown. If I lived another million years, I'd never get the sound of Garrett's tortured cry out of my head.
Max's security detail rushed me into the library. The room was situated in the center of the house and had no windows. Only one door in and out—well, not including the secret passageway to the dungeon. Was that where they were taking me?
Scott was suddenly standing before me, some black material in his outstretched hand. "Bree, I need you to put this on."
But I couldn't comply. It wasn't because I didn't want to; I literally couldn't. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't—
"Bree!"
My gaze shot to the door as Max was rushed inside by his own personal shield of bodies. He hadn't spotted me yet, and the desperation in his voice shredded my already fractured heart.
"Max!" I tried to go to him, but my legs were jelly. I fell to my knees and crawled toward him instead.
Then, he was there, wrapping me into his arms and releasing a shuddering breath. He'd, no doubt, been as rattled as I had. He'd once found me bleeding out in his poolroom. He'd once walked in to see his former wife dead in a bathtub of blood-tinged water. He'd even walked in to find his mother bleeding on the floor of their tiny shack. Seeing Karen like that had to have been a shock—unless he hadn't made it there before his security team had grabbed him and rushed him here with me.
God, did he even know?
"Karen," I began, mind still racing in a thousand different directions. "She was—god—there was so much blood and, and, and—I don't know if she's—"
I clamped down on the thought. I couldn't go there. I couldn't. If I lost her, I didn't know what I'd do.
"Garrett's with her. Security moved her to a more secure room. They're assessing her. One of my team's a doctor."
"A doctor?" I pulled back, and that was when I saw it. The blood staining the front of his shirt, only he didn't appear injured. I reached for him—oh. It wasn't his blood. It wasn't my blood. It was Karen's, and I was covered in it.
He must have sensed where my train of thought had headed because he pulled me close again. "When I heard the shot, I thought I'd lost you, but then, I saw Karen and—fuck! I don't know how it's possible to be both relieved and heartbroken at the same moment."
I held onto him tightly, but only for a second before Scott dropped to a knee beside us. "I need you both to put these on while we finish securing the area."
Scott held out the same black material he'd pushed on me a moment ago. Realization struck; it was a bulletproof jacket.
As soon as we were both in our vests, we got to our feet on equally shaky legs, Max's arms bands of iron around me. We stood huddled together in the center of the room. Four personnel, two on each side of the door, stood ready to rush anyone who came through the room's only entry. At least half a dozen more stood circled around us, each and every one of them ready to defend us against whatever might happen next.
Scott was directly in front of us, our last line of defense. I could tell by the set of his stance he was ready to do battle. Even as he stood at the ready, he spoke into his wrist communicator. He pitched his voice low, so I couldn't make out the words. But I knew, just knew, he was getting an update on Karen.
I stared a hole in his back as he nodded and listened to whatever the other person was saying. If he got bad news, he didn't give it away.
What felt like three years later, Scott turned to us. "Mrs. Lanyon has been stabilized enough for transport. The security detail is prepping to move her now."
"So, she's gonna be okay?" I asked.
Scott couldn't mask his emotions this time. "The wound is serious. We've already called ahead to the hospital, and the surgeon is expecting us. They're preparing the O.R. That's all I can tell you now."
I snuggled into Max. She wouldn't make it. That was what I feared Scott was really saying.
"Okay, whatever you need to do for her, do it," Max answered, already moving toward the door.
Scott blocked his boss's exit. "Sir, you need to stay here. The hospital's too open of an area. We can't properly secure—"
"I'm going. These people are my family." The steel in Max's voice relayed to Scott he was fighting a losing battle.
"We're spread too thin now," Scott retorted, steel in his own voice. "I sent most of the perimeter team to the hospital to assure Mr. and Mrs. Lanyon are protected. The safest place for you and Ms. Jennings is here—"
"I'm going, Scott, with or without you."
"—however, I understand your need to be with your family during this tragedy. That said, we'll need time to adjust to the reduced personnel, to make sure you both remain safe. So, for the time being, I need you to remain here while we accomplish that and arrange your transportation to the hospital. Is that acceptable, sir?"
I was pretty sure Max wanted to punch Scott.
"Make it fast," Max practically snarled. "I need to be with my family."
"Yes, sir." Scott was already speaking to someone on his wrist before he'd exited the library.
I buried my face in the crook of Max's neck and breathed in his scent, hoping against hope it would settle me. I was managing to battle the worst of the panic, but it was still bubbling and raging inside. Eyes closed, I tried again to find the closet door in my mind's eyes. When I could finally pull it into view, the space behind the door looked as if someone had ransacked it. Many of the boxes lay askew, their lids off. All the bad things I'd stored there over the months had been released.
Breathing in, I picked up the box nearest me and placed the memory of seeing Karen bleeding on the floor inside. The memory fought with me. Invisible tendrils slid out of the box, keeping me from securely fastening the lid.
Breathing out, I let my mind and body relax. I finagled with the lid again and—
The room went dark. Even with my eyes closed, the loss of light was noticeable, but I scarcely had time for that to sink in before the pop, pop, pop of more gunfire plunged me back into the flames.
Max's arms tightened around me. "What the fuck's going on?" he barked.
"We're trying to ascertain that, sir," answered the man I deduced was Scott's second in command. "Washington, come in," he said into his wrist communicator. "What's going—"
The second in command swayed and went to a knee at the same moment a wave of nausea hit me.
I don't feel right. I thought the words, had planned to say them, but I wasn't sure I'd managed. Then, it was too late. The world turned blurry and then plunged into darkness.
Chapter 13
Max
I'm standing beside the fire pit where my father's body is burning, but I'm not sad—more like numb.
I'm glad he's gone. I probably shouldn't be, but I am. He'll never be able to hurt Mum or me again.
Mother was back in the house. I'd given her something to make her sleep. Somehow, I'll find a way to take care of her.
Unlike the night I actually ki
lled him, however, I'm not a child anymore. I recognize that in the way one does when they're aware they're dreaming but not fully awake, either.
Garrett stands next to me. He's not a child, either, but he's wearing the same clothes he'd worn that night. I am, too.
"How long do you suppose we need to keep the fire going?" he asks.
I shrug. "As long as it takes, I guess."
I've never burned a body before. It doesn't smell like when Mum and I would grill one of the rabbits we'd catch in the traps she'd set in the vegetable garden. The aroma coming off the fire is both pleasant and acrid, sweet and sulfurous. It makes me sick to my stomach.
"We need to hurry," Garrett says. "We need to get to the hospital. I don't think Karen's going to make it."
"Karen?" The name teeters my world on its axis. My twelve-year-old self doesn't know a Karen, but the older me does. She's been shot. And Bree…
Where's Bree?
That's when I see her, body limp and unmoving in the flames.
"Bree!" I scream for her and lunge into the flames, but I can't find her. The fire burns, and the smoke is blinding. "Bree, where are you? Bree!"
I can't find her.
Reality punched me in the gut so hard that my stomach rolled. Vomit gnawed at the back of my throat, but I swallowed it. I would not be sick.
"Mr. Penn, sir. Open your eyes. That's it. Just take deep, slow breaths," someone said.
The voice was male and familiar. I searched my memories, but my brain was sluggish. It was like wading through tar blindfolded, with my arms and legs tied.
"Breathe through the nose, sir. That's it. It helps with the nausea."
Scott. Yes, it was Scott talking.
"Bree," I began when the worst of the nausea passed, "where is—"
I tried to stand too quickly, and the contents of my stomach shifted violently. So much for the worst of the nausea being gone.
Scott took me by the elbows, steadying me. "Slowly, sir. Whatever was used to knock us out was potent."
I wracked my brain, but everything was still too fuzzy, my dream and reality too tangled. "Knocked us out? What happened?"
"Amnesia's normal after coming into contact with something like this. We're all coming around, too, trying to take stock of the situation."
"Where's Bree?" I asked again, looking around for her. She'd been right next to me—hadn't she?
Silence was his only answer.
Dread cut slicing lines through my chest, my stomach—my heart—like some feral creature trying to escape a cage.
"No." I shook my head, denial warring with bone-deep terror. "No."
Legs still shaky, I spun to look for her, but she wasn't here. Her chocolate eyes were not looking at me in the way that made me feel complete and needed in ways I'd never know I'd wanted.
"No, she can't be gone. She—she can't be—"
The ground fractured beneath me, and my knees gave out. I hit the ground hard. I knew I'd hit hard because of the jolt up my spine, but I didn't feel it. I was numb again, as numb as I'd been in the dream. Maybe, hopefully, I was still dreaming.
Scott dropped beside me and planted both his hands on my shoulders. "There's no body, sir. I think she was taken."
I grabbed onto that single word. Taken. Taken didn't mean dead. Taken meant she could still come back to me. I held on to that.
"The bracelet!" I blurted out. "The one I gave her earlier. There's a tracker in it that's linked to an app on my phone." Both of our phones, actually. I'd wanted her to be able to track me, too.
I dug my cell from my pocket—and froze.
I had a text from Bree.
My heart stopped and then raced. Maybe she'd woken before the rest of us and went for help. I couldn't bring myself to believe that, but it was better than the alternative.
I slid my finger across the touchscreen to bring up the message, which consisted of a single photo. No text. Just an image of Bree folded into the trunk of a vehicle.
And I couldn't tell if she were alive or dead.
The phone tumbled from my suddenly trembling hands, and I doubled over in pain. I barely managed to catch myself before my face hit the floor. Nausea returned tenfold. My body readied itself for the purge, but I didn't need to get rid of food.
I needed to get rid of that image of Bree. My Bree. My heart.
My everything.
"She's not dead. She's not. She can't be." I repeated the words like a prayer, not because I believed them but because I needed them to be true.
Scott retrieved my phone and looked at it, but through the tears stinging my eyes, I couldn't make out the nuances of his expression. Pain was welling up from some dark, deserted place inside me. I'd been dead inside before her, but she'd brought me to life. With her, I finally knew what it was like to be loved completely. If she was gone—
"She's not dead. She can't be." And I'd believe that for as long as I could. If she was already dead, I might as well lie down and die with her.
"Sir. Sir," Scott was saying. "The tracking app. I need you to pull it up. She hasn't been gone long, and I don't think Théo wants her dead. Not yet. If he did, he would have killed her right here. He took her to fuck with you, and we need to make him pay for that."
His meaning took longer than it should have to penetrate. At first, his words brought relief, but just as suddenly, terror followed. And then, stout resolution. Théo was a monster, and I knew a thing or two about monsters. The things he could do to her if he wanted to hurt me—god help him when I got my hands on him. I'd fucking kill that little shit and not think twice about it.
I pulled up the GPS app linked to our bracelets. I canceled my signal, leaving hers blinking like a shining beacon.
I held the phone toward my head of security. "The signal's only about ten miles away."
"Let's ride," he said, already pushing to his feet and moving toward the door as he spoke into his wrist. "Call Inspector Dayton and re-route them to the location I'm sending through now."
The drive took forever. In reality, only a handful of minutes had passed since we'd peeled our way from the cottage's driveway, but the woman I loved needed me. Actually, forever didn't begin to describe the passage of time.
Scott was tearing down roads that weren't designed for speed. In the passenger's seat, I navigated. We were getting closer and closer to the blinking dot, but dear fucking god, we weren't getting there fast enough.
"Slow down a bit," I instructed. "You'll need to turn right just up ahead."
"There's no road." Scott's statement was another punch to the gut.
He was right. There was no road—just an empty field for as far as I could see. Rescues didn't happen in deserted fields; body discoveries did.
Stop it. Don't go there.
"Turn," I repeated. "Now."
"Yes, sir." Scott took the turn like a NASCAR driver.
"Signal stops straight ahead in half a mile."
He gunned it as we crested a small hill. We went airborne, but it wasn't the jolt of no gravity that had my stomach jumping. The flash of police lights greeted us—as did the sight of a body splayed out, unmoving beneath the outstretched branches of a tree.
Bree.
I jumped from the SUV before we'd come to a complete stop. The force of the impact jarred my knees and ankles, but I didn't care. I stumbled full speed through the pain.
From a thousand miles away, I heard the guttural sound of someone screaming Bree's name. I didn't realize it was my voice until several officers turned and ran to cut me off. I managed to dodge the first one but not the second. He slowed me just enough for the other officer to circle back and secure my opposite arm.
I screamed Bree's name again. Again and again and again. I screamed until my throat felt raw.
Detective Inspector Dayton looked up from where he was crouched beside the body—a woman with brown hair and a bulletproof vest. And on her slender wrist was a bracelet, one that matched the one on my own wrist.
I went li
mp.
Reality closed in around me until all I could see was her.
The woman I loved.
Dumped in a field as if she were nothing but a bag of trash.
Dead.
Chapter 14
Bree
I'd known Théo was a cold-hearted, manipulative bastard, but this was a million times worse than any torture I could have devised.
The grainy video screen on the folding table didn't have sound, but I didn't need my ears to see Max's pain. I felt it in my bones, in my heart, in my very soul. Even with him trapped in the silence, I knew the exact moment he'd thought I'd been killed. His grief telegraphed his heartbreak in the way he went lax between the two officers holding him and in the way he vomited, the violent wracking of pain purging itself from his body.
My sweet Max. I'd give anything to let him know I was okay—alive anyway. Chained to an overhead pipe in the middle of some rundown building with Théo grinning maniacally, I was far from okay.
I was still near the beach. At least, I thought I could hear the shh-shh of the waves. Did that mean I was still close to where I'd been abducted?
I wasn't sure how long I'd been out before I'd come to again, but in the video, the top edge of the sun was still visible on the horizon and Max looked to be wearing the same gray slacks and white polo.
I tugged my restraints yet again. I'd woken with them already in place, the manacles biting into my wrists as I'd hung limply—arms straight overhead, only the balls of my feet on the disgusting floor. Blood oozed from below the metal cuffs. I was sure it was getting worse, too. While I couldn't see it, the trickles had congealed on my forearms.
Was this place Théo's base of operations or nothing more than a convenient location to bring me? A convenient location in which to kill me.
There wasn't much in the way of aesthetics. The room had no windows and no furniture aside from a folding card table and a couple folding chairs. On the table sat a monitor, a laptop, a zipped black bag, a coffee mug, and a rusty pipe that looked as if it might have been scavenged from somewhere in this shithole.