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"Kyle was sloppy. We have his plates and his car tracked on multiple traffic cams. The APB is out, and we are on his trail."
"But?" There's more he isn't saying, and I really need the whole fucking story. My sadness is quickly boiling into rage. My best friend is out there at the hands of one of her demonsagain, and nothing is going to stop me from getting her back in my arms.
"We lost him yesterday. No cell phone to trace either. He hightailed it out of populated areas really fucking fast, clearly realizing he had to get off-grid to go unnoticed."
"And?" I'm going to punch something.
He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "We got a call this morning; his car was spotted leaving a shitty motel about eight hours north of here." Bile rushes up my throat at the mention of a motel. "I've had people combing the area and following the direction he was last seen moving. I'm leaving in the morning and joining the hunt."
"Us too," Amiri states. It's not an offer or a question. Just a fucking fact. Nothing will keep us from finding Eve.
"I figured. I'll send you the details and what I know. I swear, though, stay out of fucking trouble and check in with me every day. I can't keep you from that girl, I realize that, but I also need you boys to stay safe. Please. Eve will need you all in one piece when we catch up to them." His tone allows for no argument, and honestly, he won't find one from us. This was exactly what we needed when we decided to storm into his office.
Hold on, Fire. We are coming for you.
Chapter 4
Evelyn
"How was your beauty sleep?"
"Fuck you," I murmur, trying to stay a little quiet for my poor head.
After Kyle knocked me out with that dirty fucking rag last night, I was dead to the world. I shiver, remembering how I woke in a wooden chair tied down with zip ties this morning. The fact that I'm still fully clothed and haven't been brutalized yet has me feeling stronger than I did during those seven years.
Something about this time is different. Kyle hasn't touched me, except for the occasional caress that makes me want to vomit all over his tiny dick. The rough handling, I can handle, except for the kick to the ribs yesterday, which has definitely bruised me. Other than that, I'm relatively okay. And really fucking pissed.
"Ah, ah, troublemaker. Don't mistake your luxury hotels and front seat for kindness. As soon as we get to your new home, everything will go back to how it used to be."
Luxury hotels, my ass. When I woke and blinked some of the grime away from my eyes, I realized he stashed us in a damn pigsty. I swear I saw beetles crawling across the stained carpet.
The front seat isn't all it's cracked up to be, either. His rambling is aggravating me to no end and making my head pound where it's leaned up against the window. Sure, it's better than the trunk in the fact that I can see and breathe, but I still can't move.
Instead of chains and shackles, Kyle has chosen zip ties and drugs to keep me in line this time. Too bad the drugs don't stop bodily functions from making themselves known.
I have to pee so freaking bad, and he hasn't fed me or given me water. I had gotten used to the spoils of having a normal life these past five months. Now? The hunger pains and dry mouth just have me angry.
I think one of the major differences this time around is, I have found my own strength along with a life I really want to live. I have a family waiting for me, and my damn therapist took away my unhealthy coping mechanisms, so here I am...traumatized and absolutely livid.
The slap on my bare thigh has me hissing at him like a cat waiting to attack. "Did you hear me, Pet?"
"Like nails on a chalkboard, asshole." The fog and wooziness from the drugs wear off a little more with every mile we pass.
"You know," he muses while slipping his free hand that's not steering the car under the hem of my dress, "I enjoy your feistiness. Means I get to break you all over again. Maybe this time you will be more engaging."
"I have to pee," my voice comes out strong and unbothered. On the inside, though, my tummy swirls with nausea.
He snatches his hand back in disgust. "You're fine."
"Unless you want me to ruin your seat, I suggest you let me out, so I can do my business. In case you weren't keeping track, I haven't had a bathroom break since yesterday morning."
He narrows his eyes on the empty road in front of us; all the while, my bladder is screaming for release, and my pounding headache begs me to stop talking.
Kyle shifts in his seat and takes a look in the rearview mirror, his anxiety bleeding through the tiny space. His once crisp white dress shirt is now soiled with pit stains and dirt. His dress pants carry their own filth and rips too. He's a mess all around, which bodes well for me; I can get the fuck away from him easier if he's distracted.
"No, seriously. I have to pee," I wiggle in my seat and give him an imploring look.
"Fuck, fine." His beady eyes shoot daggers at me like I'm such a burden. Everyone does say that pets are a lot of work. I don't think he realized potty breaks would be a thing if he wanted to keep his space tidy.
