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Faster.
“I know,” I spoke out loud, annoyed he spoke into my mind like that. Made me feel crazy.
Dark laughter echoed in my head.
My foot pressed harder on the gas pedal as I weaved in and out of traffic, nearly swiping a red Porche outside one of the casinos. The GPS showed another ten minutes until I reached the church.
“Fuck,” I shouted, worrying the traffic would slow me down.
Five minutes later, I slammed on the brakes outside another casino. No, it wasn’t me.
Move!
“But,” I began when the jeep lurched, and I flung open the door, stumbling outside the vehicle as the Reaper urged me to run.
Straight. Beyond the slot machines.
It wasn’t the correct address, but I didn’t have time to fight the demon inside me. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.
I ran down the red carpet, racing through the rows of slot machines until I saw an elevator.
Too slow.
My body whipped to the right, and I caught a door that led to a stairwell. Flinging it open, I raced down, heading into the bowels of this casino and places where the public never entered.
A gate blocked my path with a keycard reader.
Fuck!
My hand formed a fist and reared back, punching the coded pad as I winced. That would hurt later. It broke as the door made a beeping sound, opening wide.
I rushed through, passing another hall, more doors, and a second set of elevators. My body stopped, coming to a halt in front of a grand ballroom.
I reached for the door, slipping inside quietly as I saw rows of empty seats. The stage was also empty.
Not for long.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, understanding what the Reaper meant. There would be an auction tonight. “Not if I can help it.”
There was a door to the right of the stage, and I entered through it, finding a big room shaped like a dome with golden swords on the walls. Multiple doors branched off in several directions. I thought I heard children crying behind one of them and lost my shit. My boot lifted, and I kicked in the closest door, finding it empty.
I moved to the next and the next. All empty.
With a roar, I slammed into the final door, bursting into a room ... filled with a dozen kids. They ranged in age from as little as two or three up to about ten. Boys and girls.
I held up my hands. “I won’t hurt you,” I promised.
A few of the kids were crying, including Kylie. I had only seen her picture, but I recognized her right away. The same blonde hair and pretty green eyes as her mother.
“I’m a friend of your mom. Georgia asked me to find you.”
Her tear-filled gaze met mine. “My mommy is Georgia.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “We’re getting out of here.”
“Hello, Henry.”
My back stiffened as I turned, facing the open doorway. In my eagerness to get to the kids, I left myself vulnerable.
