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TROUPER
Two months later
“Easton,” I said as I stood up from my desk. “What’s up?”
Easton looked around my office, looking deflated when he didn’t find what he was looking for.
“We can’t find Beckham.”
Those words dropped like a bomb in my quiet office.
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” I barked. “She was at the house with you only an hour ago.”
I hadn’t stayed the night with them. Couldn’t.
Not and ‘sell’ this bullshit that they were wanting to sell.
Two more girls had been taken from the area in the time that the FBI had set up shop. And in that time, Beckham had gotten pissed.
Because one of those girls was Cannel, Toot’s fiancée.
That had happened last night, actually, and Beckham had become… possessed.
Though, seeing Toot’s face as he heard that his fiancée was missing was likely what set her off.
“Did she leave or did she get taken?” I asked.
“I think she left.” Easton paused. “But I don’t know for sure. There’s no sign of trouble from our place. Her car’s gone, and her bag.”
My gut churned.
“What about her phone?” I asked as I picked my office phone up. “Did you try calling it?”
He nodded. “I did. She didn’t answer. It’s off, or we’d be tracking it right now.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
This was what Toot felt yesterday when he’d been told.
The icy, fear-ridden, what the fuck am I going to do, feeling definitely wasn’t a good one.
“Find her,” I urged.
“We’re working on it,” he said. “I was just hoping that she was here, with you.”
I placed my hand over my heart, feeling as if there was an actual physical wound instead of a mental one.
“Please, Easton,” I begged. “Find her.”
• • •
Thirty-seven hours later
“I found her,” Easton gasped, his eyes hot and wired. “She’s… she took the tracker with her. The one in her purse. We found her off of an old road that leads to a swamp or something where there’s a house. One way in and one way out, unless you can access it via boat. And even then, it’d have to be one of those big ass fan boats. She’s… the heat signatures on the house show that there are eight people there.”
I had a feeling that there was more that Easton wasn’t telling me.
That there was something that I wasn’t going to like.
“I’m going with you,” I said.
Easton was already shaking his head.
“No,” he said. “But you can stay at the rally point line. You can wait for her there.”
The idea of doing that felt like acid burning in my gut.
“Easton…” I sounded broken.
“No, Trouper.” Easton was already shaking his head. “I don’t tell you how to do your job, you don’t tell me how to do mine.”
I closed my eyes.
I didn’t like hearing his words, but he was right.
I wasn’t trained to do what he did.
“Fine,” I said. “But the moment…”
Easton held up his hand. “The moment that it’s safe for you to come in there, I’ll let you know.”
That call came twenty-seven minutes later.
“Come on.” Easton’s words were clipped.
I was on my bike and riding like the wind seconds later.
When I got onto the front porch, it was to see a lump laying under a sheet on the ground near the door.
It was only after climbing up the steps that I realized that lump was dead and it’d been covered by a sheet.
I stepped over it and made my way into the main room of the cabin.
“Where is she?” I barked at my brother.
He was standing with his arms crossed in the corner of the room.
When he moved over slightly, I saw Beckham curled up on the floor, her body shaking.
I didn’t even think.
Running toward her, I came to a sudden halt right next to her and dropped down onto my knees.
“Beckham, baby,” I murmured softly. “Beck?”
She was shaking, and her head was tilted to the wall and she wouldn’t turn over and look at me.
There was blood staining her clothes, and I wasn’t sure if it was hers or not.
“Every time someone touches her, she freaks out. Hurts herself. Be careful, Troup,” Easton ordered.
I licked my lips and held my hand outstretched toward her.
“Beckham, baby,” I repeated. “Can I touch you?”
I reached forward and dragged one finger over her face, pulling her hair away from her eyes.
She flinched.
“Beckham,” I whispered brokenly.
She cried harder.
“Do you remember last weekend?” I rasped, placing my lips against the blood that was dried on her cheek. “You were so fucking gorgeous.”
She hiccupped.
“Marrying you in that judge’s chamber was the best thing that I ever did,” I whispered. “You were in that green top that I love so much, and that long, flowing skirt. You took my breath away.”
Her tears slowed.
She was listening to me.
“I can’t wait to go home with you over Christmas. To introduce you to your parents as my wife.” I scooted closer on my knees, this time tilting her face so that I could see her.
