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Riot headed for the door, then stopped himself before opening it. Even that was different now.
He looked through the glass first. Checked the yard.
The absurdity of that should have made me smile.
It didn’t.
Declan lowered his mouth close to my ear. “I’ve got you.”
Normally I would have told him I knew. This time I reached back and caught his arm instead.
The man who had taken me was out.
He had been out for the bedroom. For the snapping.
For the football game. For Max.
For every strange thing that had happened to me.
For the first time, all of it had one face.
One name.
Wade Mercer.
The monster from my childhood hadn’t stayed in my childhood.
He had come back.
The rest of the Bishops came over fast.
Not running. But fast enough that Ruckus came through our front door still pulling on his shoes, Micah was fastening his watch, and Rook had clearly abandoned whatever he’d been doing without bothering to finish it. Clayton came last and locked the door behind him.
Nobody asked why.
Dad disappeared into his study and came back carrying the battered case of handheld radios he and Riot had been using to torment us with emergency drills since we were old enough to reach a gun safe.
Having the only babygirl in a family full of boys and cops get kidnapped had produced an obsessive amount of preparation, training and paranoia.
Sometimes I thought it was how everybody coped.
Feeling more prepared made you feel less helpless.
Ruckus eyed the case. “Oh, good. Childhood trauma equipment.”
Riot opened it on the coffee table. “Same channel as always.”
That wiped the humor off Ruckus’s face.
The radios went out quickly. Dad. Riot. All five brothers. Mom. Marion. Me.
Ben stayed near the front of the room, looking like he regretted every decision that had brought him here.
Dad unlocked the gun safe next.
Nobody had to tell me what to take. I clipped my holster to my waistband, checked the pistol and secured it in the holster. The motions were old muscle memory by now.
Declan checked his own weapon beside me.
