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“The barn’s on fire. Mack thinks it’s a trap,” I blurted, as he leaned over the sink, and peered out the window. “He says you need to come—”
“Fuck,” Mack snarled. Jerking back from the sink, he cinched a strong arm around my waist, and shoved me to the floor behind him, and barked, “Stay down.”
A surprised yelp tore from my throat, as I skidded across the hardwoods.
“Emma? Emma?” Grant barked, voice thick with panic and rage.
“I saw a shadow. I think we’ve got incoming, Master Chief,” Mack barked as the back door exploded with a thunderous crash.
Suddenly, everything that had been moving at the speed of light slowed to a heart-stopping, gut-churning crawl.
Raising his weapon, Mack spun toward the door as Wesley stepped inside…holding a gun of his own.
“Emma! Fucking talk to me,” Grant bellowed in my ear while simultaneous gunshots thundered through me.
Blood splattered outward from the front of Mack’s body.
Time slowed even more as a bone-chilling scream tore from my throat.
I was still screaming as Mack clutched his chest and staggered backward. Tripping on my legs, he stumbled sideways. Blood flowed from between his fingers pressed to his chest, and the gun slipped from his other hand before skidding across the floor.
“Mack. Oh God, Mack, no!” I shrieked as he toppled backward, ripping the phone from my hand before landing on top of me with a gut-churning grunt.
“Mack…Mack, get up. Please get up,” I begged, frantically shoving his big body while bucking and wiggling for freedom.
Tears blurred my vision. The scent of hot copper filled the air and stained my tongue. Still struggling to push him off me, all I could think about was grabbing his gun to finish the job for him.
But before I could pry his heavy weight off me, Wesley gripped my arm and brutally yanked me from beneath Mack’s body before hoisting me onto trembling legs. Blood dripped from a gash at his temple. Mack’s shot had gone wide, merely grazing the maniac.
“Hello, darling,” Wesley said with a demented grin. “Did you miss me?”
Body quaking and mind numb with fear, I struggled to think of a way to escape the madman.
There was no way I was leaving with Wesley.
No way I’d leave Mack to bleed out on the kitchen floor.
And no way in hell I was leaving Grant.
“No. Sorry, not sorry, I haven’t missed you at all,” I replied, hoping I could stall for time and keep Wesley talking long enough for Grant to get back home and rip him limb from limb with his bare hands.
“I didn’t miss you either, cunt. But you’re still coming home with me because I have to marry your pathetic ass,” Wesley snarled, slamming the butt of the gun against the side of my head.
Like sharp ragged fangs, pain ripped through me before everything went black.
ChapterSeventeen
Grant
Accelerator pressed to the floor; I sped down the highway.
Terror, rage, and adrenaline scorched my body and brain. Emma’s voice, Mack’s warning, and the sound of gunfire—that turned my guts to liquid—echoed in my ears. Honking the horn and weaving around cars like a hornet, I dipped onto the shoulder several times to pass assholes who refused to get out of my way.
Though Emma had suddenly gone silent, a fact that sent blinding rage vibrating through me, the call was still connected. I strained, praying to hear a breath, a whisper…even a scream, but the only sounds coming through my Bluetooth were Mack’s moans and groans. Clearly, he’d taken a bullet. I just didn’t know where. Since Wesley hadn’t outright killed him, I clung to the hope Mack would pull through.
Veering off the highway, I turned onto the two-lane leading to the ranch. Glancing at every vehicle I met, I took a mental snapshot of the driver inside. I knew who I was looking for. I’d done a deep dive into Wesley Albert Fairchild’s pampered life, the day after Emma spilled her secrets on the porch. Unfortunately, like other deranged degenerates, there were no flags, no signs, no warnings to indicate how insane or brutally dangerous he truly was.
The monster, doing God knows what to Emma, was a devious, cunning psychopath.
