“That’s on the outskirts. It’s too far to walk. I might have already looked it up.” Of course my smart best friend did.
“We need a car,” Grant points out.
Luke runs his fingers through his hair, and I know all of this is making him uneasy. “Let’s head back and grab mine, then.”
“That’s gonna take too long, plus what if Bennett comes home?” I remind him, my eyes scanning the back lot of the garage landing. He could be chopping her up right now! My eyes land on an old Bronco parked beside the dumpster.
It’s ancient and rusted along the wheel wells, but the tires look decent. Pretty sure it’s been sitting there since I got to town.
“There,” I say, already moving toward it.
“Madeline.” Luke grabs my arm. “What are you doing?”
“Watch me.” First I try the door, and thankfully it’s open. I pop the trunk and walk around praying there are jumper cables. “Bingo! Today must be my lucky day,” I say, grabbing them before I walk back to the driver’s side and then reach in and pop the hood. Once in front, I prop the hood up and find the battery. I use the jumper wire to connect the positive battery terminal to the ignition coil. “My dad taught me this,” I say, following the additional steps one by one that I learned from him when I was fourteen. “Said a girl should know how to get herself out of a jam.”
The engine turns over on the third try, rumbling. The old ones always stand the test of time. I jerk open the driver’s door.
“Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?” I look up to see all of them staring at me in awe.
“Get in,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Over, Buttercup,” Luke orders. I roll my eyes but scurry over to the passenger seat. Georgia and Grant hop into the back. Luke throws the Bronco into drive, taking off.
The headlights cut through the darkness as we speed toward the edge of town. I don’t know if we’re driving toward answers or into a trap. But I know one thing with absolute certainty… I’m not stopping until I find Emily.
Chapter Forty
LUKE
The Bronco starts to sputter out halfway up Joey’s gravel driveway, coughing smoke. I don’t bother trying to restart it. We’re close enough, and the sound of the gravel would be loud enough to alert anyone at home.
The house sits back from the main road. Not that it matters all that much. The houses are spread out, acres between them, and backed up against the woods.
I walk around the front of the Bronco as Madeline is slipping out of the passenger seat. I shut the door quietly before I back her up against it.
Her eyes widen momentarily, the moon bright enough to give us a good amount of light. I cup her face in both my hands, pressing my forehead to hers. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
If it were only me right now, it would be a different kind of adrenaline pumping through me, ready for a fight, but the stakes have changed, and for once in my life, I have something to lose. Something that can’t ever be replaced. She might as well take me right along with her if anything were to happen to her.
“I need you to listen to me,” I say, low but urgent, needing her to understand me right now. Really fucking understand me.“From this point on, no pushback. You do what I say, when I say it.”
Her face softens. She nods her head slightly, then tilts her chin up and kisses me, hard but brief.
“I’ll follow all your orders,” she agrees.
“Thank you.” I feel a bit of pressure release off me, but not much. I’m starting to understand why people say they need to fight or fuck. I always just fought, but yeah, Madeline could take that edge right off if I needed, or she could have it roaring to life.
“Hey”—she pats my stomach—“this is only for the next hour,” she quips, a ghost of her usual teasing in her voice, but the moment grows serious again quickly.
I let her go, keeping her beside me but still partly behind so I can quickly step in front of her.
The single-story house comes into view ahead of us. Plain cedar siding, dark windows, not a flower or wreath or anything that suggests a woman ever lived here. It’s a simple functional cabin in the woods, built for working men who don’t spend much time indoors. There is only one light on, and it’s on the front porch.
But it’s the metal garage barn off to the side that catches my attention. Big enough for three bays. That’s the kind of place where you could make a mess and easily hose it down after.
“Not the house,” I murmur to Madeline. “The garage.”
She nods, understanding without me having to explain. Georgia and Grant fall in behind us, quiet, and we keep to the shadows the best we can.
