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"You gonna tell mewhyany time soon?" Liam asks as he gets in, defaulting to glibness like he always does when the going gets tough.
"Mark just pulled the coordinates from the SUV," Theo says. "It's off the highway about an hour east of our meeting point." There's a pause, before he adds in a low voice, "And it's not moving.”
Liam doesn't need to ask what that means; they both already know.
They sit in tense silence as Liam wheels the car around and races back down the highway, pushing the speed limit, his knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel. Theo wordlessly plugs the coordinates of his SUV into their GPS, seeing with a twinge of panic that the car is stalled not far from where the group met up. He tells himself to keep a cool head, but otherwise he stays quiet, jaw clenched, knowing that if he speaks at all he's likely to lose it. Liam doesn't fare much better, his mind on the tenuous attachment he's formed to Vivian, a few short weeks of knowing her that already feel like a lifetime. They race to find their lost lover, each of them afraid in their own way.
What's most surprising to them when they reach the scene of the wreck is not that no one has shown up to help—in an area this remote, that's to be expected so late at night—but that a crash happened at all. Tristan has always been the best driver of the three of them, and Liam has joked more than once that he ought to give up crime and join Formula 1. But as they pull to the side of the road where the totaled vehicle is still smoking, it becomes clear that this is worse than the average wreck.
"Holy shit." Liam rakes a hand through his sandy locks as he stops the car and scrambles out.Theo's already out the door, and they both half-sprint to the smoldering wreck, frantically looking for signs of life. The fear for Vivian’s safety and the desperate urge to protect her consume them both, and as they descend on the wreck, for a moment they’re not sure what they're seeing.
At first, it doesn't look like anyone is inside, and with the whole front end of the car smashed to hell, it's hard to get a good look through the windshield.
"Where the hell is she?" Theo asks as he skirts around the vehicle, kicking aside bits of debris.
"Look at that," Liam says, pointing to the shape of the distorted fender. "You know what that looks like, don't you?”
Theo swears and nods. “Lucas."
"He must have driven into them head-on," Liam says. "If that bastard was really trying to—“
But he doesn't finish, because that's the moment he spots movement on the driver's side.
“It’s Tristan," Theo says, yanking the door open with enough force to make it slam into the side of the car. Fresh fear wells up in both of them, for their best friend now as well as their shared girlfriend, and Liam claps his hand over his mouth as he takes in the sight.
Tristan Archer is slumped over the steering wheel, motionless, his back rising and falling so shallowly that for a moment they can't even be sure he's breathing. A river of blood is running from a wound on his scalp, and bruises are already forming all over his face and neck. Although the airbag went off, he's unconscious, and no one needs to ask to know just how serious it is.
"Help me pull him out," Theo instructs, and Liam wordlessly does as he's told. Together they manage to disentangle Tristan from his seat belt and haul him out onto the side of the road, and as Theo checks him over, Liam grabs his phone to call for an ambulance. As he puts it to his ear, his expression grave, he looks at Theo and says, “Lucas must have gotten Vivian.”
"I know," Theo replies, not looking at him.
"What do we do?”
The older Emmerico brother turns to face Liam, his gray eyes blazing with the kind of rage that could strike terror into anyone. "We get her back," he says. "That's what."
ChapterThirty-Six
By the time we reach the outskirts of London, the sun is beating down on us and the traffic on the feeder streets is picking up. We get more than our fair share of looks from the drivers around us, who are no doubt wondering what the fuck we're doing in a car that looks like it was just run over by a bulldozer.
More than once I consider signaling to one of them, coming within inches of risking it, but Lucas presses the muzzle of his handgun to my side and hisses, "Don't even think about it." His last shot, the one that was meant for Theo, echoes in my mind, and I give a single nod, but he doesn't pull his gun away. Part of me hopes someone will see the blood on my face and intervene anyway, but the other part—the part that knows what Lucas is capable of—prays they mind their own business, for their sake. As an enforcer, he has plenty of blood on his hands already, and he won't hesitate to shoot some good Samaritan.
For better or worse, no one tries anything, and that's how we manage to make it all the way back to Lucas's apartment without being stopped. He pulls into a parking spot outside as if there were absolutely nothing wrong with the car, turns to face me, and says, "You know the drill, sweetheart. No sudden moves, no pitching fits. Try anything and I'll kill you right here. Just see if I don’t."
I swallow, giving him a defiant stare. "You need me," I say, calling his bluff.
"Damn right, I do," Lucas agrees, "but I also need the cops to stay off my back, and if you make me pick between those options, it's not going to end well for you. Understand?”
My heart sinks, but I nod. "Yeah," I say through gritted teeth. "I understand.”
Lucas gets out, tugs me from the passenger seat, and slides an arm around my waist like we're long-standing lovers. His hand creeps under my shirt, making me shudder in disgust, and I feel the barrel of his gun press against my side.
"Smile," Lucas growls in my ear as we make our way through the revolving doors, and damn it, I do, giving the doorman the broadest grin I can manage while bleeding profusely.
Lucas doesn't let me go until he's ushered me into his apartment, and once he does, I can't get away from him quickly enough. Just the feeling of his hands on me makes me sick to my stomach, and it occurs to me just how much of a bullet I dodged when he was called away on business on our wedding night.
Now, though, there's nothing to call him away.
I eye him warily as I back into the foyer, which simultaneously feels both familiar and new after everything that's happened. Lucas spares me the briefest of glances as he shrugs out of his jacket, keeping his gun trained on me as he speaks rapidly into his cell phone. When he hangs up, he finally meets my gaze, and the expression in his eyes makes my stomach drop… but then he just laughs. "Relax, darling," he says disdainfully. "You have bigger things to be afraid of from me, I can promise you.”
