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He disconnected the call, and I had to pull over because my hands were shaking badly, and I couldn’t get my breathing under control. They were coming in short bursts, and sweat beaded on my forehead. My head was spinning, and my vision was dimming around the edges. I rolled down my window to let some air in and laid my head on the steering wheel. “My name is Lucas Wyatt Blackwell. I’m thirty-five years old. I work for the FBI. I found love for the first time, and I want to experience that love for the first time.”
I repeated this over and over, pulling myself out of the panic attack I was having because it was a panic attack. I’d never had one before, but with this overwhelming information, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I had one. When my breathing calmed and I wasn’t sweating anymore, I sat back in my seat. Billings injured. Left for dead. Of all the agents I worked with, I was closest to her. She was friendly, not overly chatty, and was always up for a drink after a long day. We weren’t what you would call best friends, but I would consider her as close to a friend as I had. To think she was tortured like those women in the videos had me seeing red. I didn’t know how to manage this type of anger. I had only gotten like this once, and that almost cost me my career. I needed to talk to someone.
I grabbed my phone and opened my email. I found the Zoom link and clicked it, praying that Dr. Greyson would answer. It was during duty hours, so he might have a patient, but I would keep calling until he was done. It was urgent.
I didn’t have to worry. He answered and looked sorrowful. “Lucas. I was wondering when you were going to get around to calling. I heard about your team member. I’m sorry. How are you holding up?”
“Not good, Doc. I wish I could come back, but Santana told me to stay put. I can’t do anything to help.”
He sat back in his chair. “Nonsense. You’re helping right now by keeping yourself safe. Billings is going to need you when she’s out of the woods. You can’t help her if you’re in the bed beside her, or worse, on a slab in the morgue.”
He was right, but that didn’t help me not feel like a failure. “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”
He nodded and leaned forward again. “You’re not in South Carolina anymore, are you? I’m sure whoever this is will know where you live. You should pack up and leave immediately.”
“No, I’m at my parents’ cabin in the mountains of Georgia. I’ve been here the whole time, trying to get some peace while I sorted through my shit.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. South Carolina is big, but this fucker seems like he’s on a mission.” I laughed at his curse, not expecting it from him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to curse. But this guy is a menace. The sooner he’s caught, the better.”
“Agreed,” I said. We talked more, mainly exchanging words to get my anger down. He did an excellent job listening and giving me feedback, allowing me to feel my anger but not become my anger. He said he had a patient, but we scheduled an appointment for the next afternoon to go over more exercises.
My mind was heavy as I drove the rest of the way. I really hoped Billings pulled through. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, and I prayed to whatever power was above that they saw her through this.
Pulling up to the cabin seemed strange since I knew Tristan wouldn’t be inside. In the past few weeks, we’d made this place our home. We built memories here. I walked inside and headed to the kitchen after I shut and locked the door. Looking at the stove, I remembered the first time he’d made me breakfast. Granted, he was a dick at the time, but he still fed me food that was meant for him. The stools at the island reminded me of us sitting together, sharing the meals he made for us every night without complaint and with me in his way.
I walked to the living room and saw us curled on the couch, watching movies or his feet in my lap, typing away on his laptop. I couldn’t go to my room. Because all I would see, all I would smell, was him in my bed, tangled in the sheets, writhing from my touch, my tongue, my dick. I stayed away from my room because I would imagine the times I woke up in the middle of the night and watched him sleep. His lips slightly parted, but his face relaxed. How he would murmur if I wasn’t touching him, then unconsciously reach out for me, taking care of me even while he slept. I couldn’t see any of that without breaking down, so I sat in the living room.
I flipped through Netflix, trying to find something to watch. I noticedSupernaturalhad fifteen seasons, so I turned it on and got lost in Sam and Dean. Good-looking guys, which was a plus, but they weren’t my Tris. I watched about seven episodes before I started to get sleepy. The twists and turns of the show, not to mention all the demon activity, were engaging. Seeing the brothers dispatch all the evil entities they encountered gave me hope. Yeah, I knew it was a fictional show, but I needed to believe that evil could be eradicated. Like this evil fuck after my team.
I didn’t want to sleep in my room. If I couldn’t have Tristan here in person, maybe his scent all around me would keep the nightmares at bay. I trudged up the stairs to his room and was immediately enveloped by his scent. Taking a deep breath, I drew it into my lungs. I picked up one of the pillows and brought it to my nose—it smelled like him. I held it to my chest, laid down, and kicked off my shoes but didn’t bother to undress from the gray sweatpants and black tee I had on. With his scent all around me, I fell asleep almost immediately.
The nightmares didn’t have a chance to come. Before I was pulled down too far into my slumber, I heard something downstairs. I don’t know how it woke me because it wasn’t that loud. But in the quiet of the house, it might as well have been a grenade in a china shop. I sat up, straining my ears to pick up any other sounds. I reached over to the nightstand, then cursed when I realized I wasn’t in my room. My service weapon was downstairs in my nightstand drawer. Chiding myself, I looked around the room for something—anything—I could use as a weapon. The baseball bat was behind the door, and I grabbed it. My mom always kept bats behind every door since she wasn’t a fan of guns.
I opened the door slowly, thankful it didn’t squeak, and ghosted across the floor to the stairs. There were no lights on, but I’d been coming here since I was old enough to walk, so I knew the layout like the back of my hand. On silent feet, I made my way down the stairs, looking around, trying to figure out what the noise was. When I got to the foyer, I saw a window beside the door was broken, and the door was wide open. Before I could do anything, there was a pain in the back of my head. Then I was falling into nothingness.
Chapter18
Tristan
The ride to the airport was hell. The silent tears from both Momma and Cass were hell. I didn’t know what to do to comfort them. I kept Cass tucked under my arm, and Pop kept ahold of Momma’s hand over the center console. We were all hurting and worried about Lucas alone in that cabin. It didn’t sit right with me, but I promised. He’d tricked me, but I promised.
I was the only one who had to check a bag since I had one of the suitcases I packed when I went to stay in the mountains. By the time we made it through security, the tears had dried, but the subdued nature of our little party remained. Pop offered to get us snacks, but no one felt like eating. He and Momma sat in front of us, whispering softly to each other. They were trying to take their mind off the ordeal, so they talked about work. It seemed to work for them, so I tried to engage Cass.
“Hey, love. Yesterday, you told me you had something to tell me. What’s up?”
“Oh yeah.” She giggled a bit. It was soft and strained, but it was good to hear. “I got David on my voice memo saying he stole your work.”
“What? Cass—”
“I know, I know. It was reckless, but I needed something. He said… well, here. I’ll let you listen.”
She took her phone from her bag, tapped the screen a few times, brought up the voice memo app, and pressed play. There was some background noise, but you could clearly hear it was David and Cass.
“So…” David said, “… what made you finally cut off your phony ‘bestie?’” I could hear the sneer in his voice, and it made me roll my eyes. “You guys were practically attached at the hip.”
“Ever since he got fired, rightfully so, he started to become a diva. So needy. And he had to nerve to ask me to pay his rent and car payment. All this time, he’s been using me for money, buttering me up so he could ask for favors.” I looked over at her and raised my eyebrows in mock indignation. She looked sheepish and mouthed,Sorry. I gave her a quick smirk and shook my head, letting her know I wasn’t mad.
“I knew there was something about him I didn’t like,” he told her with malice in his tone. “He had no right to ask you for anything. He’s a grown-ass man. Next time, he needs to keep track of his work, and he won’t have to worry about it going missing. Or getting fired.” He laughed in a short burst, making my stomach clench and roll.
