Family.
I’d never had one of those.
I wished with all my might Bobby and Chasin were home so I could’ve enjoyed the feel of that.
Maybe I didn’t need luck now that I had Chasin.
Trust your man.
I did trust him. I trusted him with my world.
31
“Weston and Jonny are in location,” Chasin told Jameson, and bit back the urge to tell him to drive faster.
“Any sign of Bent at the address he gave her?”
“No. But there’s still fifteen minutes before Evie’s supposed to show.”
Five minutes gone.
Five minutes since he’d told Genevieve he’d bring Bobby home and they were still three minutes away from the abandoned trailer.
“You know where the turnoff is?” Chasin asked.
“Yep.”
The trailer was off the beaten path and on private property. The property owner had seen a car with an out-of-state license plate pull down her private dirt road marked with a ‘no trespassing’ sign. She watched from her house as the car stopped in front of an old trailer on the edge of her land. A man carried a woman inside, then left by himself. If the owner hadn’t called the car in, they wouldn’t have had a lead on Bobby’s location.
And thank God the property owner had been a seventy-year-old woman instead of someone younger who would’ve gone out to investigate and possibly gotten hurt. Though when Jonny had called Chasin to tell him where to go, he’d warned them that the old woman had a shotgun and she was of the mind that if someone approached her home, they’d find themselves with buckshot in their teeth.
Smart woman.
Jonny had informed him that a unit was en route and that Chasin and Jameson had the cops by at least five minutes. He added that his friend Vaughn would be one of the cops on the scene.
Chasin was pleased Vaughn would be one of them. After the team had moved the women to the farm and Holden had moved in as well, they hadn’t needed Vaughn to play bodyguard. Though as evidence suggested, they’d fucked up, and maybe they had needed someone full-time on Bobby.
Chasin stared out the window and thought back to the briefing they’d had at the office. All the men, sans Holden, add Jonny, were gathered around the conference table, Micky hard at work at her laptop. Everyone felt Bobby’s disappearance deep, but it was the look on Jonny’s face that had given Chasin pause. He had no idea why Jonny looked the way he did other than he was a good man and a woman had been injured and taken.
But it seemed like more. The pain he saw was enough for Chasin to question the wisdom of having Jonny in the room. Before he could suggest a change, Holden had called in. Genevieve had no idea her and Bobby’s phones were monitored. Being as she had no clue that Micky could hack a phone, she hadn’t known that Chasin was listening to the conversation with Bent.
Through the conversation, Chasin’s blood boiled, anger had filled him to bursting. But it was Jonny’s hostility that had changed the temperature in the room. Each time Bent had called Bobby a bitch or mentioned her bleeding out, Jonny’s aggression ratcheted up. And that was saying something, since every man in that room was feeling the need to unleash violence and retribution.
Chasin told Evie he was proud of her, but proud didn’t begin to cover what he felt. He’d heard the tremor in her voice, the fear, the anguish, the tight words. But she’d held on, she played it right. And knowing his woman the way he did, he knew that conversation had torn her up. He also knew that if she wasn’t already questioning giving herself up for Bobby, she would be soon. He hoped that Holden could handle that until Chasin found Bobby and could take over.
That thought didn’t tear him up—it killed. Genevieve needed him and all he wanted to do was hold his woman and protect her. But Bobby needed him more, so he prayed to God Holden could handle it in the meantime.
As soon as Holden had sent the address, Jonny took off like a shot and Weston took off after him like the hounds of hell were chomping at his heels. Nixon and Alec ran out the door as soon as Micky had given them Bent’s actual location.
Jameson and Chasin were getting in his truck to head back out to look for Bobby, whereabouts unknown, since they hadn’t had a goddamn clue where she was when Jonny had called about the trailer.
Now it had been eight minutes since that call. Seven minutes left until Bent would realize he’d been had.
Jameson turned off the road. The trailer was in sight.
Finally.
“We go in careful,” Jameson grunted as he sped down the lane.
The irony wasn’t lost on Chasin—there wasn’t one thing careful about the way he was driving.
“Just to say, our arrival has been noted if someone’s watching.”
“Do not go in there without clearing the door first,” he warned. “I know you want to get to her but we do this smart.”
Chasin didn’t think Bent Bromley had the skills to rig a door with explosives, and he figured the guy was working alone, but he’d also been in enough situations to know you never underestimate your enemy.
“I take the front,” Chasin announced.
The truck came to a stop and both men exited, weapons drawn. Jameson maneuvered to the back of the trailer, Chasin scanned the open field. The closest hiding spot was a good three-hundred yards away, so unless Bent had hired talent, even if he was hiding in the woods there was no chance he’d get an accurate shot off.
Chasin quickly surveyed the door and found nothing that would suggest a boobytrap. He slowly opened the door with his left hand, keeping the gun in his right at the ready. The smell hit him first. Old, musky, with a tinge of copper.
He beat back the urge to rush in and continued to enter slowly. Years of training had taught him to keep his heartrate steady, his mind focused, and his body in check. Nothing flitted through his mind except his objective—find Bobby breathing.
Not even Genevieve entered his mind. He couldn’t let himself go there and risk getting hurt, or worse—Bobby dead.
The single-wide was small. The kitchen to his right was empty. He turned left and there she was. Blood coming from her head, limbs at an awkward angle like she’d been tossed on the dirty shag carpet without care. He made his way to her and squatted down, gun still pointed to the back of the trailer. He needed to finish clearing the space but he took a moment to check Bobby’s pulse.
Strong, steady, alive.
That was all he needed. Back on his feet, he cleared the one bedroom and bathroom.
Thank fuck.
He shoved his gun into the holster at his hip and rushed back to Bobby.
“Outside’s clear,” Jameson noted, entering the trailer. “Fuck.”
Fuck was right. Bobby’s face looked like she’d gone a few rounds with a heavyweight and she was not the winner. But it was the deep gash across her forehead that worried him.
So much blood. It had leaked down the bridge of her nose, across her cheek, and pooled on the carpet.
Chasin got to his knees, gently swept the matted hair from her face, and noted it had started to dry.
Fucking hell.
“Bobby, honey, wake up.”
There was a low moan and her hand twitched.
Thank Christ.
“Hurt,” she whispered.
“Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here. Just a few minutes.”
“Bent,” she groaned.
“We know. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re safe.”
“Evie.”
“Shh, Bobby.”
Chasin lifted his gaze from Bobby’s busted face to Jameson. His head was turned as he looked out the door, but even in profile, there was no missing the hard set of his jaw.
“Cops are here,” Jameson rumbled.
“Ambo?”
“Negative.”
“Call it in,” Chasin told him.
“Evie…kill her.”
Chasin’s heartrate skyrocketed and he had to close his eyes to block out the
emotion that threatened to overtake him.
Evie’s safe.
Holden has her.
“Go,” Bobby croaked. “Bent. Kill her. Your house.”
Bobby’s head lulled to the side and Chasin yanked his phone from his pocket at the same time Jameson was answering his.
Terror roiled in his gut when Holden didn’t answer. He went to Genevieve’s name, hit go, and waited. That terror turned to sheer panic when Evie didn’t pick up.
“That was Nix. Bent’s phone stopped moving, they got to the location and found it tossed on the side of the road,” Jameson told him.
And that panic turned to ice.
“The farm. Get everyone there now.” Chasin jumped to his feet and shoved past his friend out the door.
Vaughn was getting out of his cruiser as Chasin sprinted past.
“You’re on Bobby,” he told the man but didn’t bother to explain.
Chasin was in Jameson’s truck preparing to reverse when Jameson jumped in.
“Keep your head, brother,” Jameson growled.
Fuck that.
Bent Bromley was dead.
32
Minutes felt like hours.
Every second hurt my heart.
Holden was doing his best to keep me occupied and away from staring at the clock, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t glanced at it twelve times since I’d talked to Chasin.
I knew it was twelve because only twelve minutes had ticked by and I’d seen each one of them on the digital display.
Twelve long, agonizing minutes.
Holden had excused himself to use the restroom, therefore I was free to stare off in space and worry. My eyes remained on the clock.
God, where were they? What was going on? I wanted to call McKenna and ask her if she’d heard something but I didn’t want to bother her.
But Kennedy’s with her.
I could call her and she could fill me in. Kennedy would’ve welcomed hearing from me, I knew she would—she’d called tons since the barbeque, offering me her friendship. Silver and Macy had, too. McKenna had straight-out told me I was part of the family and so was Bobby.
The guys had all taken my back with my stalker issue. They’d taken Chasin’s back, now they were taking Bobby’s. The women though, they’d done it differently. They offered support, too, but they did it through sisterhood, friendship, and family.
Something I wanted with a desperation I hoped they hadn’t noticed.
So I knew down to my soul Kennedy would be up for a call from me. But I didn’t pick up the phone.
I was too afraid.
It’d been fifteen minutes and I was too scared of bad news. With only five minutes left out of the twenty that Bent had given me, I really couldn’t stomach hearing they hadn’t found Bobby. Therefore I wasn’t calling anyone. I was just going to stare at the clock and hope to God that Bobby was alive and Chasin was safe.
I was so lost in thought, I didn’t hear the bathroom door slam open and crack against the wall. I also missed Holden as he tore through the kitchen and dining area, coming at me at a full run.
But I didn’t miss the front door being kicked in.
I didn’t miss the gun blast, splintering the silence of the room. And I absolutely, unequivocally did not miss Holden’s body jerk as he returned fire before he hit the floor.
That was when my body finally reacted. Unfortunately, it responded incorrectly. I should’ve gone for Holden’s gun, I should’ve booked it out of there. Instead, I threw my body over Holden’s bloody one in an effort to protect him.
“Get up,” Bent shouted.
“I can’t believe you shot Holden.” I slid off him and pressed my hands over the wound trying to staunch the blood flow. “Get him help.”
“How stupid are you?”
That was a good question. I was kneeling over Holden, blood covering my hands, with a madman—a murderer—pointing his gun at me. Yet, I was telling him to get help instead of, say—grabbing Holden’s gun—which probably made me the stupidest woman on the planet.
But what the hell did I know about crazy fucking men who bust in doors and shoot people after they kidnap your best friend and threaten the man you love?
Nothing.
I knew not a damn thing about any of that. What I did know was, I didn’t want Holden to die.
“Call for help and I’ll go with you and do whatever you want. If you don’t, you’ll go to sleep every night knowing I’m plotting your murder. And one morning, when you open your eyes, you’ll find me staring down at you right before I kill you.”
Bent’s chuckle was low and manic at first, then it grew in both volume and fever until it was hysterical. The sound creeped me the hell out. But the part that freaked me out the most, he looked like he was possessed. It was the way he looked at me—not menacing, not edgy, not like he hadn’t just shot a man in cold blood after he’d hurt a defenseless woman.
No, everything about Bent’s look was cold. So cold, I shivered, and the warm blood oozing out of Holden no longer registered.
Fucking dick.
“Get up,” he commanded.
“No. Fuck you, no.”
“Get the fuck up!” Bent roared, and I watched spittle fly from his mouth.
I pressed harder on Holden’s stomach. The blood seeped around my palms, and if I wasn’t already on my knees, seeing all that crimson coupled with the metallic smell would’ve taken me down. And if that didn’t, knowing there was a gun pointed at a helpless Holden would’ve done it.
There were so many things wrong with what just happened. So many, my mind spun.
Where’s Chasin?
Where’s Bobby?
“Why?” I shouted back. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“For the last time, get the fuck up, Vivi.”
“I really want to know. What did I ever do to make you do this to me?”
“Vivi—”
“I’m not getting up, you stupid fucking asshole. I’m not leaving Holden.” My throat hurt from screaming so loud.
But I pushed on because I was done.
And not done in the way I was before. Not, done being stalked. Not, done having my life controlled by some unknown person. Not, done with creepy letters and gifts. Not, done being fucked over by everyone in my life.
No, I was done because I saw it. The look on Bent’s face changed when I yelled at him, and now I was just plain done for.
He raised his gun from where he’d been pointing it at Holden and leveled it at my head. I knew when he pulled the trigger, the bullet would hit me square in the face because I was literally looking down the barrel.
“It’s better this way,” he said conversationally.
I didn’t ask what was better. There was nothing better about my situation.
Nothing good.
Nothing better.
Nothing lucky.
“Now he’ll walk in the house and find his Evie missin’ her face. He’ll live the rest of his life knowing I bested him. He’ll know you don’t fuck with Bent Bromley. He’ll learn just like that stupid bitch Roberta learned before I shut her ugly mouth. I fucking told you I’d have you on your knees beggin’, didn’t I, darlin’?”
Chasin would, he’d feel it the rest of his life.
Some of the vinegar drained. I screwed up. I should’ve grabbed the gun, ran, or left with Bent in a hurry so Chasin wouldn’t come in and find me and Holden dead in his living room.
I glanced down at Holden. I wished I could check for a pulse, do something to make sure he was alive, but I didn’t dare move my hands.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “So sorry.”
“That’s it, darlin’, beg.”
Stupid dick thought I was apologizing to him.
The nerve.
I would never beg. Chasin might never forget finding me dead, but he’d never want me to beg. Not when it was useless. Not when I was going to die anyway. He’d want me to be strong, be brave, be me.
I was a lot
of things, but I was not a coward.
“Never,” I shouted, and lifted my eyes to Bent. “I will never beg you for anything.”
“Stupid—”
“Do it, Bent, pull the trigger. You’re gonna do it anyway. There’s not a damn thing I can say that will stop you. I hate you.”
“All I wanted to do was love—”
Bent’s words died on his tongue.
His gun discharged.
The bullet sank into the floor beside me.
I pressed my body over Holden’s, tried not to move my hands, and twisted my neck to see Bent sliding down Chasin’s body as he crumbled to the floor.
I had no idea what I’d just witnessed and couldn’t begin to process how it’d happened. Not when Chasin’s gaze came to mine. The look so scary, I flinched and held on to Holden as tightly as I could.
Fury didn’t cover it. There’s not a word strong enough to define the look on Chasin’s face. Pain, fear, rage, worry, concern, wrath, thunder—all of it present.
I didn’t move but suddenly there was plenty of movement around me. I felt like I’d been staring at Chasin for a millennium but I knew it had only been a millisecond. Bent’s body hadn’t even settled at Chasin’s feet before he jumped over Bent, scooped me up, and Jameson took over helping Holden.
“Holden,” I whispered, and struggled to get down.
“No, baby. Jameson’s got him.”
“Holden!” I shouted.
And Chasin’s arms tightened.
“Holden,” I whimpered.
I shoved my face against Chasin’s neck and lost it.
Chasin cradled me in his arms. I burrowed in, and all the fear I’d locked inside of me shattered in a rush of emotions.
“Get it out, Evie,” he cooed. “Get it all out.”
So that’s what I did.
I got it out.
I exploded with it.
Chasin held me through the sobs and the shakes. He held me on the drive to the hospital. He told me Bobby was safe. She was hurt but would be okay. He explained that Holden was going into surgery.
Through all of it, I said nothing.
33
Fucking Christ.
Chasin's Surrender (Gemini Group Book 5) Page 27