AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re sick, Charlotte,” he murmurs into my ear.
I’m too weary to argue, and too weak to resist when his weight pushes me down to the floor.
“But I’ve healed you before, and I swear to God, I’ll do it again.”
“On one condition.”
I feel his body tensing against mine as he waits, but he knows what’s coming as surely as I know he’ll agree.
“I’m there when you gut that psycho like the fucking pig that he is.”
He smooths my hair from my face and kisses the corner of my mouth. “I’m not going to gut him,” he says. I start pouting, but Fyre gives me another soft kiss and then lets out a rumble deep in his chest. “He’ll suffer ten-fold for what he’s done to you and all the others he’s hurt.”
“Yes,” I murmur, writhing against Fyre as his words fill me with a deep, depraved sense of longing.
“Then we’llend him, Charlotte. Together.”
16
FYRE
I’m surprised Charlotte is still asleep when I return to our motel room with our breakfast. She’d been awake when I left, about to head to the shower. I guess she decided to sleep in instead. I wasn’t even gone that long, but she’s huddled into a small ball under the brightly colored comforter, her hands curved inward under her chin.
Arrow lies curled up beside her, and for the life of me I can’t tell which of them is snoring louder. I set the coffees down on the table, expecting the rustle of the brown bag with our two muffins and a few pieces of bacon to rouse Arrow, but the ladies seem to be taking their beauty sleep seriously this morning.
It’s been a week since we escaped the lake house. A week of hopping from motel to motel—too paranoid to stay in one place while we hunt out Red.
As soon as we’d arrived back in civilization and I’d secured us a rental car, we’d gone back to the lake house. It was empty, cleaned out, and sporting a for sale sign. The realtor was our first point of contact, but all she would tell us was that it was a deceased estate. According to her, it had been empty since Peter’s last visit a few months back. She even seemed believably surprised when Charlotte said she’d heard there’d been some kind of kidnapping at the address earlier that year. Since then, we’ve been trying to find a handle on Red’s whereabouts, and failing miserably.
I take a sip from my paper coffee cup, frowning slightly as my thoughts turn somber. I’ve been struggling with a decision for the past day or two. I’m certain I can find Red, given enough time and resources, but it’s going to take longer now that he’s gone into hiding. I could speed things up significantly by enlisting the help of my contacts at the FBI, but then my hunt would become a federal case, and any further involvement on my part would be seen as obstruction of justice.
I wouldn’t be able to make good on my promise to Charlotte, or to the one I’d sworn to myself the night Red slaughtered my family in the most brutal way imaginable.
Red doesn’t deserve a reduced sentence in some white-collar penitentiary where he can keep up with his friends through coded letters while his every need was taken care of.
Fuck no. Red deserved months of agonizing physical and psychological torture.
I take another sip of coffee, nodding my head in silent agreement. I guess I’ve made my decision then. Now to find this bastard so we can end his reign of terror, once and for all.
Red is, and has always been, a ghost. He operates on the fringes of society, surrounded by a herd of loyal sycophants that would do anything for him. Murder, kidnapping, rape.
My gaze falls on the laptop I purchased a few days ago. We could have gone back home and picked up everything we needed, but it was too risky. Red must know where I stay by now, and he’d undoubtedly have eyes on my house.
We never stopped running after that first night in Waspwood forest, where Charlotte nearly lost some toes. Where I nearly lost my fucking mind.
I shove away the unhelpful thought, taking a sip from my coffee as I sit down at the desk and open the laptop.
Sycophants.
Pedophiles and trafficking rings are secretive, elusive. And exclusive. Even after staging those shots with Charlotte dressed as jailbait, I couldn’t worm myself in. I suppose she wasn’t young enough. The only person I’d made any progress with was Brent92. I almost had him, but then he disappeared on me.
I log into the White Lily chat room, and to my surprise, I’m greeted with a handful of unread messages sent to me by none other than Brent92. But I’m barely finished reading the third one before I frown and sit back, taking another sip of coffee.
Something isn’t right. While the tone of the messages hasn’t changed, it’s obvious I’m not speaking to the same person. This Brent is needy, and it speaks to deep insecurities. When MillyD, the persona I’d created to lure Brent92 into a meet, didn’t respond, his messages became noticeably more aggressive, promising expensive gifts and forbidden tech.
The previous participant in our chat had never been aggressive. If anything, it had been almost impossible to lure him into a conversation.
Has this account been handed over to someone else? Someone with less experience in grooming potential victims?
