I crawl closer to Rylee when Keifer grips her so tightly, a painful wheeze parts her blue-tinged lips. He is clutching her so constrictively her lungs are struggling to fill with oxygen.
“Please,” I beg, turning my focus to Ryan. “She’s my baby, Ryan. Please don’t pick me over her.”
His eyes only drop to mine for a second, but it is long enough for him to see the honesty in them. I’ll never forgive him if his failure to stand down results in Rylee getting injured.
Peering into the eyes of a man I’ll never stop loving, I assure him, “He won’t hurt me, Ryan.”Because you won’t let him.My last guarantee is issued without words. Ryan is a protector, and I am a nurturer. It is the way we are.
While murmuring profanity under his breath, Ryan lowers his gun. An egotistical grin stretches across Keifer’s face when Ryan unclicks the chamber from the butt and slides the two separated pieces across the floor. When Keifer nudges his head for me to collect Ryan’s gun, I do as requested, albeit hesitantly.
“Now let Rylee go,” I demand, my confident words not betraying the shaking encumbering every inch of me.
Keifer’s evil eyes bounce between Ryan and me for several terrifying seconds. Just when I think he is going to deny my request, he drops Rylee from his grasp and fists my hair in a firm grip. The roots of my hair pull from my scalp when he drags me into the position in which he was holding Rylee. His pistol notches into my temple as his death-clutch steals the air from my lungs. Although I am terrified, I am also relieved. Rylee has her little arms curled around Ryan’s thigh. He will keep her safe.
“If you attempt to follow us, I’ll kill her.” Keifer’s tone leaves no doubt to his threat.
As I am dragged out of the place I’ve only called home for two months by my hair, I mouth to Ryan and Rylee that I love them, while silently praying my tear-stained face won’t be the last memory they have of me.
Chapter 24
Ryan
My eyes drop from one tear-stained face to another. “It’s okay, Rylee. Your mom is going to be okay. I promise.”
She accepts my guarantee with the same assurance I took Savannah’s earlier. Keifer won’t hurt her—because I won’t let him.
Ignoring the crazy beat of my heart, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket before scooping Rylee into my arms. She is so warm, the sweat slicking my skin sizzles when I draw her into my chest to calm her panicked shuddering.
The 9-1-1 dispatch officer connects my call at the same time I reach the door Savannah was just hauled through. After checking the corridor is clear of any threat, I make my way to Mrs. Daphne’s apartment. She is Ravenshoe’s collective grandmother. Nearly every child in this town has been babysat by Mrs. Daphne at some stage in his or her life.
“My name is Ryan Carter; we have a 134 in progress at an apartment block on Wren Street. Suspect is wearing black trousers, a navy blue collared shirt, and a faded baseball cap. He is armed and considered highly dangerous. . .”
My hurried words skid to a stop when my eyes lock in on a flurry of honey-colored hair. Savannah is being shoved into the passenger seat of a white sedan via the driver’s side door. Keifer’s vehicle is mounted on the curb, showcasing his desperation has reached fever-pitch. The panic burning my esophagus grows. Smart criminals are a menace to society, but unhinged ones usually only harm those closest to them.
When Keifer cranks his ignition, I increase my speed. “Suspect is driving a white Chrysler, last three digits of the number plate are 382. He is heading north on Wren. His victim is a Caucasian female wearing white denim shorts and a pink sweater.”
With one hand holding a crying Rylee to my chest and the other caressing my cell, I alert Mrs. Daphne of my presence by kicking her door. She answers not even two seconds later. One look at my face tells her everything she needs to know.
“It’s okay, baby girl, come on,” Mrs. Daphne coerces Rylee, who is clutching my neck for dear life, fighting to stay with me.
I hate her being torn from me kicking and screaming, but I know she is safe with Mrs. Daphne. Her mother’s safety isn’t as easily guaranteed.
After pressing my lips to Rylee’s flaming red face in silent promise that I will return with her mom, I charge down the corridor. My pulse is pounding my eardrums so fiercely, I can barely hear the instructions the 9-1-1 officer is giving me, but I don’t miss the most vital part of her information—Keifer’s location.
With years of training under my belt, and even more years of admiration, I dive into the driver’s seat of my patrol car, stab my key into the ignition, and floor the gas. My car rockets out of the parking lot of Savannah’s building as my cell connects to my command’s Bluetooth.
“Right on Turner,” the operator’s instructions are mixed with the sound of a helicopter hovering above my head. They’ve brought in the big guns.
“North on Taite.”
Gratitude for Regina’s love of pursuit pumps into me when I take the corner like a maniac. A handful of pedestrians ignorant of my siren can’t ignore my horn when I slam my hand down on it. They race onto the sidewalk, their eyes as wide as mine, their fists clenched just as tightly.
The features of Ravenshoe I’ve grown to adore the past decade whizz past my window in a blur. My speed is so excessive, the front tires on my patrol car struggle to hold onto the asphalt. I’m practically soaring.
“West on Mercer.”
I slam my foot on the brake and skid to a stop mere inches from Mercer Avenue. After taking a second to ensure my abrupt pause hasn’t caused an accident, I shift my foot from the brake to the gas pedal. I’m flooded with painful memories when my extreme speed along Mercer Lane doesn’t impede my notice of the many tourist signs dotted along the way. They are all for the man-made wonder I haven’t visited since a horrifying day nearly eleven years ago: Bronte’s Peak.
When the operator advises Keifer has turned east on Wesley, I realize what he is doing. He isn’t fleeing with Savannah; he’s taking her straight to hell with him. But his hell isn’t filled with fiery flames and ashes—it’s a bed of water. He’s returning Savannah to her deepest, darkest nightmare.
