Page 27 of Holden’s Resurrection

Holden grappled with how to explain to his friend why he needed him to stay with Charleigh. He didn’t understand it fully himself but he needed Chasin to keep her safe.

“She’s closest to you.” Holden pointed out.

“She’s close to all of us.”

“No, she was always closest to you. Before she married Paul, she sought you out. And then there’s Genevieve…”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

It was no secret—Genevieve pretty much hated Charleigh. Bobby was a tossup. That left Micky and Kennedy to keep Charleigh calm, though Macy and Silver would pitch in. But Holden needed Chasin to monitor the situation.

“You know Evie, you know Charleigh’s not her favorite person, but I am. She’ll worry about me and likely that’s gonna make her on-edge. I need you to keep Charleigh safe until I can bring Faith home.”

“Evie would never hurt Charleigh,” Chasin snapped. “But you’re right, Evie’s gonna be worried for you.”

“Let’s hit the road.” Chasin and Holden turned to find Jameson stalking toward them. “I’ve got my truck loaded up.”

“I’m—”

“Heard what you said to Chasin and I agree, she’s closest to him so he should stay. But that doesn’t mean you’re going alone.”

Holden didn’t have the time or patience to argue about who was going or staying. Moreover, Faith didn’t have the time. He needed to get on the road—he should’ve done it the moment he’d realized Faith had been taken—but he’d needed to lay eyes on Charleigh before he left.

“You’re gonna find her.”

Chasin’s proclamation hit him square in the chest and threatened to crack the reinforced walls he’d built. He couldn’t allow a single twinge of emotion to color his anger. He had to stay completely detached or he’d find himself crumbling under the debilitating fear. His friend meant well, but none of them had any idea how close he was to breaking down.

Holden had seen the blood, had watched Charleigh get loaded into an ambulance, he’d searched her house, he’d heard the doctor’s assessment. The woman he loved more than anyone else on earth was lying in a hospital bed and her daughter had been kidnapped. With each breath he took he’d disconnected, he’d separated from the overwhelming agony. He had to, he owed it to Charleigh.

To Faith.

Sweet Christ, Faith. He couldn’t go there. Couldn’t think about how scared she had to be. Absolutely could not think about what she’d seen. Did someone carry her down the steps? Had she closed her eyes so as not to see her mother bleeding out from a head wound? Had she been forced to walk down the stairs and step over her mother’s prone body? Had she stopped to try to wake up Charleigh? Had she kicked and fought?

Stop.

Holden shoved his thoughts away and stared at Jameson. Before Kennedy, the rage on his friend’s face was typical. The perpetual scowl was so normal, no one paid it any mind. But after Kennedy, that deep frown had vanished. Jameson had found happiness. He’d found love, acceptance, a good woman he was smart enough to make his wife, and they were making a family. It had been so long since Holden had seen Jameson’s anger surface, it startled him. A stark reminder of how fucked the situation was.

“We’re headed to Virginia Beach. I’ll call Rhode on the way. Keep me up to date with Charleigh.”

That was all he could ask. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his friend to tell Charleigh he loved her, that he was sorry he couldn’t sit by her bedside. Though he desperately wanted to stay.

Faith. Everything had to be about Faith.

“Brother, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack if you don’t calm down,” Jameson griped.

Not taking his eyes off the long stretch of roadway in front of him, Holden gritted his teeth. They were thirty minutes outside of Virginia and Holden was losing patience. He wanted to yell at Jameson to drive faster. He wanted to rail at Rhode for not finding anything useful at Beatrice Towler’s house. But having a bitch-ass temper tantrum wouldn’t help. What if they’d wasted three hours driving south? What if Holden’s hunch was wrong and he’d put Faith in more danger? She’d been gone six hours.

“Do you ever remember Paul mentioning a vacation home? Or a place his family vacationed?” Jameson asked.

The mere mention of Paul had every muscle tightening.

“Wasn’t close enough to the man for him to share his vacation plans. Nix or Weston might know, those two seemed to be the only ones who could stomach listening to his bullshit.”

That was because Nixon had been their leader, he’d felt it was his job to pull the team together, to keep them a cohesive unit. Nix had managed to do that while they were on the battlefield—there was no room for personal dislike if you wanted to stay alive. However, stateside had been a different story. Paul had been an outsider, his constant ego-driven need for competition had gotten old fast. He was exhausting to be around. Weston had seemed to be the only one in the group who could put up with him on a personal level. Chasin had tried at times but it never lasted long. Jameson had straight out disliked Paul from the beginning—he’d actually had words with Nix to try to get Paul placed on another team.

“What if—”

“Don’t go there,” Jameson cut off his morose thought. “Rhode didn’t find anything at Beatrice’s house. He hasn’t been to Patricia’s yet. If he doesn’t find anything by the time we get there, we will. They have her, Holden, we both know it. We just have to find where they took her. And there’s a possibility they’ll call in a ransom demand. They want Paul’s death gratuity and life insurance.”