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“I know. I’m still fifteen minutes away.”
“Fuck. I’m almost twenty out. I’ll kill him, Bry. If he so much as lays a finger on her, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Not if I get there first.”
The twenty minutes felt like hours, but he finally arrived at the house. Olivia’s SUV was parked in the driveway alongside a similar, but much more worn-looking vehicle. James drove past the house and parked his car by the curb behind Bryant’s sensible sedan.
As soon as James was parked, Bryant jumped out of his car and made his way toward the house carrying a crowbar. James opened the door of his vehicle and nodded at the weapon. “Good idea. Got a spare?”
“I don’t just keep weapons lying around, James. I’m a lawyer, not a fucking Green Beret.”
The enormity of the situation hit James in the gut and he had to lean back against the car to steady himself. “How the hell do we get her out, Bry? We’re not trained for this.”
Before Bryant could answer, another car turned onto the street and whipped in behind James’s SUV. Relief washed over him when the detectives clambered out of the car and strode toward them.
“Mr. Monroe, I told you to stay put,” Rogers said, her usually flat eyes lit with an uncharacteristic fury.
“And I told you I wasn’t just leaving my wife in some maniac’s hands. I’m going in.”
“I’m afraid we can’t allow that, Mr. Monroe.” Michaelson’s sympathy rang as false as ever and James bared his teeth at the detective.
“You’re going to have to shoot me to stop me, Detective.”
As if on cue, a sound like a car backfiring pulled their attention to the house. James felt his head spin a moment before he took off running for the front door. Bryant dove for him, but James had always been faster, and he easily evaded his brother’s grasp.
“Fuck! Get him, Michaelson! I’m going in!”
Something heavy slammed into his side a moment later and he hit the ground. The air left his lungs in a painfulwhoosh. “Olivia,” he croaked out, struggling beneath the weight of his attacker.
“We’ll help her. I need you to calm down, or I’m going to have to cuff you.”
The sound that escaped him wasn’t entirely human. Above him, Detective Michaelson sighed, and James was dimly aware of the sound of cuffs being opened seconds before they clamped around one of his wrists. Both arms were jerked behind his back and the cuffs were secured around his other wrist. He was dimly aware of Bryant shouting at the detective, threatening him with all manner of lawsuits, but his focus was on the opening Detective Rogers had just disappeared into.
“Liv,” he whispered, his heart threatening to shatter in his chest.
Please, God, let her be alive.
