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My hands tighten on the handles, and when I see that the red spot has stopped, I feel something unfurl in my chest, something dark and dangerous.
I don’t care about the cold wind biting my face, whipping it, mercilessly. The sounds of traffic fade in the background as I whiz through back alleys, taking short cut after short cut, willing Kendall to be alive, willing her to be unharmed.
Hope burns in my blood and it is such a fragile thing and I’m unwilling to abandon it until I am forced to. My mind is racing with lethal precision, as my destination draws closer. The damned motorbike is too loud, and I’ll have to abandon it, if it’s a quiet place they’ve taken her to. I can’t afford to let them know I’m there.
I remember Kendall’s words from the night she was moving, the fear in her voice when she had told me that Arthur wouldn’t let this go.
My fucking fault for being so arrogant, thinking Duke scaring the other man into submission would make him back off.
My fucking arrogance.
I should have gone wit
h her when she panicked about Elise going into labor. I should have put my work aside and gone with her.
Instead, I let her go by herself.
In the back of my mind, I know that this is a stupid thing to bemoan, that Kendall has fought for her independence and has let me know numerous times that she won’t tolerate being coddled. She’d smack me in the face if I even suggested so. My woman is fiercely independent.
She’s also smart and quick on her feet.
“Survive, Kendall,” I beg into the wind. “Survive.”
The building is an abandoned warehouse. I ditch the bike nearby and see a dirty car parked outside by the entrance.
Not very subtle, are they?
I scale alongside the building, the evening sun casting long shadows as I slip in through one of the shattered windows, undetected.
The sting of pain when edged glass cuts into my skin makes me wince. I ignore it and straighten up, keeping to the shadows. There is a murmur of voices from the far end of the warehouse. I start walking towards the sounds, aware of how my leg is bleeding and there’s probably something sticking out from it.
The revolver is in my hands and I edge towards a door from where the voices are getting louder and louder.
A sharp cry as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the air, and then a loud ‘fuck you’ is heard and I recognize Kendall’s voice.
“I’m not telling you anything!”
Something heavy clattering on the ground and a man’s voice, threatening, “There are other ways to make you talk, Kendall. Ways that I’ll enjoy.”
Fury is building up like a storm inside of me and I would like nothing more than to barge in there. But I’m only assuming there are two men. There could be more, so I need to be careful. I’ve shared the tracking data with Jace so hopefully, he’s got the police informed and he’s bringing them here.
I’m about to move when the next words that reach my ears have my blood burning to feverish heights and red swarming in my vision.
“I skinned you once, you little bitch. I can do it again.”
A tremor in Kendall’s voice, along with muted defeat and acceptance, as my brave girl spits out, “You think I’m scared of you? Screw you, Gerald.”
Gerald.
Kendall has always refused to share the story of how she got those scars on her back but while I may not know the details, I now know who the person who inflicted them on her body is. My hand tightens on the gun.
Murder might not be an option, but I know there are other ways of torturing ‘Gerald.’
I look for a way in aside from the entrance. I first need to see how many people are in there with Kendall and how many weapons.
I circle around the room, looking for a staircase that would give me a visual inside, considering there is no roof in this four walled room.
Hearing a scrape of a shoe, I immediately whirl around, my gun pointed in the direction of the noise.
