He steps closer. “Move it, or I’ll move it for you.”
I bend forward instinctively, trying to shield the small swell of my lower abdomen with my ribs, turning so the full force won’t hit my stomach.
He doesn’t like that. He angles the spray up my torso.
The water slams into my breasts and white-hot pain explodes through my chest. The spray makes me scream before I can stop myself.
Enzo laughs, amused.
I bite my lip so hard blood fills my mouth.
He walks behind me.
“No,” I whisper, bracing.
The pressure hits the stitched wounds across my back.
Agony rips through me so sharply my vision blurs. I drop to my knees as one of the stitches snaps.
“Oops,” Enzo chuckles lazily. “Physician’s going to love me today.”
Water pools around me, red swirling into pink as it washes off my skin. My whole body trembles from the pain and the cold and the humiliation.
I close my eyes.
Seth, please—Find me.
Chapter 15
Seth
By the time we land in Fresno, the sun is already climbing the horizon. We jack a black SUV from a long-term parking lot near the airport, Beau hotwires it in under thirty seconds like it is just another Tuesday. No plates, tinted windows, half a tank of gas. Good enough.
The drive to John and Mary’s neighborhood is quiet. When we finally turn onto their street, the houses look washed out in the early morning light. Peaceful, like nothing has ever happened here. Like Brooke isn’t missing. Like we aren’t about to turn this place inside out.
Travis kills the engine and wipes a hand down his face. “Okay. We’re here. Just… maybe no murder unless it’s absolutely necessary?”
Beau's already opening the door. “Only if they make us.”
Travis lets out a strangled noise that might be a whimper.
I step out last. My shoulder burns with every movement. The gauze at my ribs is soaked through again, sticking to my skin. It doesn’t matter. Pain doesn’t matter. Not when Brooke is still out there.
“Let’s move.”
Beau falls in behind me without a word. Travis stays rooted in place, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands twitching against his thighs.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he says. “Can I stay out here? I’ll keep watch. I swear. I’ll scream if I see anything.”
“Yes,” Beau says, not even turning around. “Please do.”
Travis bolts to the corner of the house, muttering something about heart attacks and federal charges and dying young.
We keep walking. Straight toward the house that is about to stop being peaceful.
I walk straight to the door. I don’t knock. I lift my boot and kick with everything I have. The door buckles inward and slams against the wall with a bang loud enough to shake picture frames in the hallway. Beau steadies it with his boot, suppressor already raised on his Glock.
Mary stumbles out of the hallway, hand over her mouth, eyes huge.
