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She held back that scream he mentioned, and her stomach hardened like a rock as she glanced around trying to get a grip on reality. “Stop this car. Now!”
“Not going to happen,” Lars drawled. “You need to pay for what you’ve done.”
Remy glanced outside, trying to see where they were taking her, but they were already out in the vast wilderness of Maine. Asher…“I haven’t done anything,” she nearly yelled back at him. How many times did she have to say it?
“Bullshit,” Lars growled, his lip curling. “I know that you barely had any money to your name. I know you bought your shop instead of renting it. I know that you’re not as innocent as you say you are.”
The world stopped turning. No, she wasn’t totally innocent, but she also wasn’t as guilty as Damon. Remy noticed then that the driver had an earpiece, indicating he might be security of some kind. Her heart hammered, nearly exploding, and her gaze fell to the guy next to her. She contemplated unlocking the door and jumping out. Sure, she’d most definitely get injured, but at least she wasn’t a sitting duck waiting for the very worst thing to happen to her. The road was busy enough that someone would see her and help.
She slowly lifted her hand to reach for the lock, when the guy next to her said, “Bad idea.” He slid his tailored blazer aside, revealing a gun. She squeezed her trembling fingers together. “Where are you taking me?” she managed.
Lars glanced over his shoulder. “To—”
“Whitby Falls to have a chat,” the guy next to her interjected. “And then we’ll return you home after.”
Lars scowled. “I never—”
The man ignored Lars and said, “You’re difficult to get close to because of the detective. Measures needed to be taken to ensure we’ve got time alone with you, but you have my word that you’re safe and you’ll be returned home afterward.”
It occurred to her that she shouldn’t trust anyone, but the guy had surprisingly trusting hazel eyes. Both he and the driver were easy on the eyes, in fact. They looked strong, military maybe. Maybe that’s what made them good killers. They looked like men who protected the country. “Who exactly am I meeting?” she asked to understand her situation.
“Joaquin King.”
The name registered immediately, and Remy felt the blood drain from her face. She’d read the newspaper articles and seen the reports. Joaquin King wasn’t just a criminal; he was the head of the King crime family.
Fuck.
* * *
Asher’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel as the engine purred beneath him. He’d driven to Portland in three hours. He made it back home in two and a half hours. The call from Boone repeated in his mind every second on the drive back to Stoney Creek. “Remy’s car was found at your house with the door left open. She’s missing. Fitz was with her. They shot out his tires.”
How could Asher have let this happen? He shouldn’t have left her. He should have been more careful, been smarter, knowing who she was dealing with. He should have realized something more was going on. Fuck. His fingers tightened against the steering wheel.
Once again, he was back to wishing he’d done more for Remy.
And once again, he’d failed her.
“Stop berating yourself,” Rhett said, sitting easy in the passenger seat, obviously reading Asher’s mind. “There’s no way you could’ve anticipated this.”
“I should have anticipated everything,” Asher shot back, wishing he had a cruiser to hit the sirens and fly through town. He slowed the car when he came up behind an old Chevy and then he hit the gas and passed the car. “All the signs were there that things were escalating.”
“Escalating from what?” Rhett snorted. “You’re connecting things in your mind that aren’t there. Beyond making assumptions, the break-in wasn’t linked to Lars. He hasn’t made a step out of place that would suggest he’d abduct her.”
Asher shifted into a higher gear, speeding his car up on the open roads. He took the back way, which was longer in most cases, but there weren’t traffic lights or congestion. “Lars better not lay a finger on her. I’ll fucking kill him.”
“And I’ll help you,” Rhett stated dryly.
Another few agonizing minutes clicked by, and soon, Asher turned onto his street, his tires squealing. He caught the cruisers blocking off the intersection near his place, then screeched to a stop next to one of the them and jumped out, running to where Boone stood near Remy’s car. “Anything?” he asked, hearing the desperation in his own voice.
Boone shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Nothing. The chief is back at the station monitoring things from there if anything comes in. We’ve put out an APB on the SUV. Fitz got the license plate as Remy got yanked in.”
“Did he fire at the vehicle?” Rhett asked.
“He didn’t trust his shot,” Boone said gently. “He didn’t want to hurt her.”
Asher needed to talk with Fitz once he got Remy back. He understood the type of guilt Fitz likely suffered, and Fitz was just a rookie, only finishing the police academy six months ago. Which was exactly why the chief could spare him and Ian to keep an eye on Remy. “I had no idea she was coming over.” His fists clenched against the fear Remy must have faced when she got dragged into the SUV. He moved closer to Remy’s car, glanced in the back, and saw plants on the floor and in the back seat.
Damn. She came to fix his mother’s garden. Her sweetness had put her in danger, and Asher felt the guilt of that sit hard in his gut. If his inability to face his mother’s garden got Remy hurt or worse…He shook his head, not letting his mind go there. “What else do you know?” he asked.
