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“C’mon, pretty girl.” Please frowns at Delilah. “Scream for me.”
When he doesn’t get a response, only a soft fuck you, he reaches behind her and grips her neck, squeezing hard on the pressure points of her slender throat. “Little fucking bitch. I said scream.”
I see her fighting not to scream, to stay strong, but his fingertips dig deep, deeper. Tears leak from her eyes. Her breathing kicks up. And then—
A soul-shattering scream tears from her throat.
Rage locks my body, and I lunge at the screen. “Delilah!”
I watch her mouth move around my name, then her eyes roll back. A tiny whimper leaves her lips before her head falls forward, her chin touching her chest.
She hangs there, motionless, eyes closed.
“Fuck, goddamnit!” I roar my rage out across the ranch.
Please tips her chin, giving me one last glance at her pale face. “Beautiful, even in sleep, isn’t she?” He grins. “Lucky me.”
The phone goes black.
Bile fills my stomach.
“Easy. Easy.” Warren grabs me by the back of the neck, bringing his forehead to mine. “Breathe, Cole. Hold it together.”
“We have to find her.”
“We will.”
“But how?” River curses.
My mind spins. She could be anywhere. Somewhere remote, where screams can’t be heard. A place where Please can play his dark games, film his twisted movies. He won’t be far if he grabbed Delilah tonight. He doesn’t want to waste any time. Not when he’s been waiting for her the last four months.
“She’s here.” I rub a hand down my jaw. “She’s in town. Please wouldn’t have had time to take her very far.”
“Where?”
I need something more. Something else.
I remember the cold calm I felt, waiting all those years to get Jack’s manager. I have to channel that vengeance now. Because if I lose it, if I make a mistake, I lose Delilah. I know it in my gut.
As torturous as it is, I close my eyes, replaying the phone call in my mind. The wood beams. The glow of the candles. The—
My eyes snap open.
The chime of bells.
Church bells.
“The church. The old church on Route 9. That’s where he’s holding Delilah.”
Warren shouts a warning but I’m already racing for my truck.
I rip open the driver’s side door and climb in, finding my gun wedged down between the seat and the center console.
The passenger door opens. I look down the seat to see River and Warren standing there.
“You’re not going alone,” Warren tells me.
River moves for the backseat. “Stay,” I order. I’d knock my younger brother out with a whiskey bottle before I let him get involved.
