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The rest of the drive passes quietly, and as we approach the small house Scotlyn rents with her friend Libby, I grow unnerved. “Something’s off,” I mutter. I don’t stop or slow down as I pass the house; rather, I continue down the street before turning right and parking in an alley a block away.
“Care to explain?” Saint asks while scanning the alley as we exit the vehicle.
“Don’t think I can. The street is too quiet for the middle of the day. No dogs barking, nobody outside. Everyone can feel it, and if I had to guess, we’re about to walk in on something they were expecting to leave for Scotlyn.”Like her dead best friend.I don’t voice that, however, because, for her sake, I don’t want that to be the case.
“You were a cop once, right?” I nod. “You still have contacts?” I nod again. “Call them; have them come, flashing lights and sirens. We’ll wait out of sight but keep an eye out for who stays and who leaves.”
“You think someone is watching the house?” I ask as I pull out my phone to text an old buddy who’s captain of his division now.
Pointing towards a beat-up old van with blacked-out windows, he explains, “This is a nicer neighborhood. We made sure Scotty would be safe here, and that van is out of place. Nice cars line the street and driveways, but that one sits between houses on the road. It doesn’t belong.”
“They’ll be here in five minutes. I told them no sirens until they were on the block.”
“How many?” His eyes are riveted to the van.
“Three squad cars.” A thought occurs to me. “I’ll be right back.” Rushing to my truck, I grab my trackers and begin jogging back towards Saint, going straight past him. “Stay here,” I say.
Casually running up the street, I slip a tracker under the back bumper of the van so that if this is them, we’ll know where they go, before I circle the block and arrive at Saint's side just as the three squad cars round the corner, lights and sirens blaring.
As Saint suspected, the van roars to life and leisurely rolls down the street before going out of sight. Opening the app for the tracker on my phone, we watch as the van heads towards the Cavanaugh district. It’s a seedier part of town and could be exactly where they were holding Scotlyn to begin with.
“You good here?” Saint grabs the phone from my hand. “I’m going to follow this.”
“Yeah, I need to know if Libby is in that house or not. Scotlyn will want to know.” Shooting my cousin Drew a text, I ask him to grab Gracin before swinging by to pick me up. “I’ll meet you backat the house.” He acknowledges my comment before taking off to my truck.
“Mr. Slade?” an officer asks as I approach.
“Yeah.” Staring up at the porch as another cop tapes it off, I know my assumption is correct. “She’s in there?” He nods. “Can I look?” Escorting me up the stairs, the scent hits me before the visual.
“Don’t touch anything, and don’t go past the entryway,” I’m instructed.
As soon as I see the girl, I know she's been tortured. From the smell alone, I'd say she’s been dead a day or so. Tied to a chair, strangulation marks on her neck, and bruising on her face. Wearing only her underwear, it’s obvious they beat her.
But it’s more. So much fucking more.
These assholes will pay for what they’ve done to Scotlyn and her friend if it’s the last fucking thing I do.
Scotlyn
Watching the two little girls, who are the spitting image of their father, as they sleep in the fluffy chair in my room, I can’t help but feel incredibly fond of them. I never gave any thought to children before. Certainly not while I was with Nick.
I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about them with Jax; I hardly know him. Yet, I sense in my soul that he is my future. Which comes along with these two beauties.
They’re sweet, curious, and seem so happy. I listened to them whispering to each other before they nodded off, and they wereobsessed with the fact that I danced. That I call them prima is a wonder and, apparently, a high honor in their close-knit world.
I gave them that—a tiny hint of happiness in such a cruel society. I’m more than terrified that I’ll be ripping it away, too. I would hate to be the reason for their innocence to be shattered.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” My eyes shift to see Dad standing in the doorway, watching the three of us. Reaching out a hand for him, he shakes his head. “You should be resting.”
“I’m fine, Daddy. I feel better than I did when I arrived a few days ago. I’d like to get up, walk around, have something to eat that isn’t more broth than food.” Blowing out a breath, he comes over and eases me to my feet. “Will you help me move them to the bed?” He glares at me this time, but I give him a cheeky smile, and he does as I ask.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Scotty. Your mother is worried sick, don’t make it worse.” Guilt hits me. Mama is the best person I know, and I hate to worry her.
“I’ll call her.” He nods his approval before relocating the girls. Once they’re settled, I tuck them in, ignoring the pain in my ribs as I bend and twist to get them comfortable.
“They’re kind of cute.” Holding in the laugh at his use of the word cute is almost more than I can bear.
“They’re adorable.” Brushing their wild hair away from their faces, I wish meeting them hadn’t been amidst something so traumatic.
