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CHAPTERTHIRTY
IAN
I’d just pulledinto the driveway and turned the truck off when I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I saw a text from a local number. A sinking feeling started to settle in my gut, but I opened the text…and had to use every ounce of strength I possessed not to throw up.
I found myself looking at three pictures of Kyler lying on the ground and bound with zip ties at the wrists and ankles. I saw some blood on her forehead – probably from being hit over the head – and her shirt was torn, exposing her bra. And the most horrifying thing? Max Taylor was standing there with a smug grin on his face.
Three seconds after I opened the text message and looked at the pictures, my phone rang.
“Hello?” My voice shook, betraying my heart-stopping terror.
“Youreallyshould have kept a better eye on that girl of yours, Thomason,” came Coach Jefferson’s voice.
I froze, and my blood turned to ice water in my veins as I processed what was happening.
Myfootball coachhad been the one filming Kyler that night?
No. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
Or was it?
Now that I thought about it, he’d always favored Max, Tucker, and Drew, even though there were stronger players on the team. And he’d acted completely uninterested in stopping them from torturing Kyler when I’d begged him to talk to them about leaving her alone.
How hadn’t I seen this? How hadn’t I realized that he was this sick and depraved?
And why the fuck had I agreed to let Kyler go to her therapy sessions alone, when we knew there was someone out there who hadn’t been caught yet? I could have prevented all of this if I’d just insisted on driving her there until the trial was over.
But none of that mattered now. The only thing that mattered was saving my girl. And my fear wasn’t going to help her right now.
Fear was paralyzing. But the other emotion flowing through my veins, anger? That, I could use.
“Lay so much as a finger on Ky and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” I growled, forcing myself to push the fear to the back of my mind and focus on the rage instead.
“You hear that, Taylor? The fucker still thinks he’s got leverage,” Coach Jefferson cackled, then his voice hardened. “No, Thomason. That’s not how this is going to work. We have Kyler, and it’s up toyouwhether she lives or dies. Come to the location I’m sending to your phonealonewithin thirty minutes, and you’re going to watch us remind her what happens to sluts who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. If I hear even ahintof anyone else with you – friends, cops, your lawyer daddy,anyone– she’s dead.”
The line went dead, and thirty seconds later, another text came through with a GPS location link.
For another thirty seconds, I let myself focus on my fear and heartache, knowing that the girl I loved more than my own life was about to be re-traumatized. I didn’t believe for a second that Coach and Max were going to wait for me to get there to start assaulting her.
And then I channeled my anger again. I didn’t give a flying fuck what instructions I’d been given. I knew better than to show up at this place with no one else there. But I also knew better than to call 911. They’d go in there with sirens sounding and guns blazing.
I didn’t even have a chance to pull up the number pad on my phone before my father’s name flashed across the screen.
“Dad,” I answered, barely managing to keep the tears at bay.
“Ian. Thank God,” he sighed, sounding relieved. “Listen, I know Kyler wanted a little freedom, but I just got out of court and found a voicemail telling me that Max Taylor made bail. You need—”
“Max and Coach have her,” I choked out.
“What?”
“It was Coach Jefferson. That’s who was with them filming that night. And I just got a text with a few pictures of her. It looked like they’d hit her in the head and knocked her out because she was bleeding. And then Coach called me and told me that if I don’t go to the GPS location he just texted me alone within thirty minutes, they’re gonna kill her.”
Bile started to rise in my throat again, but once again, I swallowed it down. I didn’t have time to be sick over this. I didn’t have time to focus on the soul-crushing guilt that had settled in the pit of my stomach. Hell, I barely had time to tell my dad what was going on and get help.
“Fuck,” my dad choked out, then took a deep breath. “Ian, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Do not – I repeat, donot– go anywhere near that location. I want you to go into the house and lock yourself in. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Forward me all those text messages, including the location. I’m calling Kyra right now. We’ll get Kyler. You have my word.”
“I can’t just stay here and do nothing, Dad!” I rasped as a few tears started to trickle their way down my cheeks. “What would you do if it was Maya?!”
