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“Darling, I’ve come to bring you home,” he continues to move forward.
I want to cut his tongue out of his head, then shove it down his throat. With my fist.
“I never want to see you again. And,” she whispers, “if you ever contact me, I will file charges on you, and everyone in that place. For everything. Leave now, forget I exist. Because if you don’t, you’ll spend your life getting done to you what you let happen to me for ten years,” she hisses. “That training stops immediately. For everyone. If not, you’ll all pay.”
The man at least has the faculties to blanche at her words.
It’s too fucking good for him. For all of them.
Snake is talking to the cops, “They called us to come and help them. The door was locked and the only way to get in was to break it down. Any way we could. Of course we’ll pay for the repairs. I have someone already in contact with the owner.”
He’s good.
Steve, Summer’s father, and the goon don’t say a damn word.
Fucking smart. They just got a free pass, it’s best they use it because they aren’t going to get another one.
One of the officers approach us.
“Ma’am, are you injured? Did someone hurt you? I have to take him in, regardless if you press charges or not,” he informs her as he glares at me.
She burns holes in Steve with her eyes, then her father.
“I’m fine. I just want to go home.”
The officer looks frustrated. He knows she’s lying; he knows that we’re all lying.
“I’ll need your number if I need to get a statement from you later on,” he finally accepts her decision.
“Snake will give you all of our contact information, now if you’ll excuse us,” I answer for her and hand Snake the keys to my bike.
“The keys are in the truck,” he informs me.
I lead Summer away from the house, past the limo that brought in Mr. Hollingsworth, all the patrol cars that the town has, and my bike, to Bull’s truck. The entire neighborhood is either on their lawns or peeking out of their windows.
When we get to the truck, I open the door and lift her up, she’s grunting and moaning with every single move. Rage flares furiously inside me again. I get her settled, then head to the driver’s side. When I close the door, we take a moment to just breathe.
I turn to Summer. “Let me take you to the hospital. The fucker might have broken a few ribs.”
Looking at her, I see she’s pale and her face is covered in sweat, her hair is sticking to her skin, and I can tell she’s having trouble catching her breath.
“What can they do for it?” she asks tightly, waiting out the pain.
I clench my teeth because I know what’s ahead for her.
“Nothing.”
“Then no.”
I don’t fucking blame her.
I start up the truck.
“How did you know?” she asks me again.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, torn by wanting to spill my guts about everything. The Program, everything I know about her father, and the things I know about her home, her engagement, what she went through, the training she referred to. And that we were hired to find her and bring her back.
I feel her staring at me beside me as she waits me out.
