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While it was possible other vehicles were hidden around the perimeter, I didn’t see any sign of them, and this guy ambling toward my front door didn’t look like any kind of decoy.
A loud bang from my trunk snapped my attention back to my vehicle and the new complication in the situation.
Franco was awake. Pounding and screaming in the back.
I should turn around. Drive somewhere remote, slit Franco’s throat, and be done with it. Dragging him into the hidden garage and tunnel and down into my secret bunker would be a very stupid idea if there was a cop outside, sniffing around.
I put the car in reverse and turned around to look over my shoulder.
But images of Luna’s bruised and battered body flooded my mind, and when I imagined all the things those men did to inflict those injuries, along with the terror she’d experienced, a rage boiled through my blood.
I hesitated. Squeezed the steering wheel so hard, I wondered if the leather might rip, and then I threw the car back into drive. I kept it slow, so the engine made as little noise as possible as it inched its way toward my hidden underground garage.
I glanced through the trees at the officer, noting he was approaching my front door. His left shoulder to me, there was over a hundred feet and a wall of pines separating him from my car.
My garage door, which had been hidden on a slant along a hill, opened with a hum. It was top of the line, designed to be discreet, but I still worried that the police officer might hear it.
I parked the car, closed the garage door, and acted quickly.
I opened the trunk, pleased when one punch knocked Franco back into a state of unconsciousness. Adrenaline helped chuck him over my shoulder, walk through the door on the far end, and hustle down the corridor that led to my weapons room.
Once in there, I secured Franco rapidly, wrapping him in duct tape and slapping some over his mouth in case he woke up. With my heart pounding, I panted as I pulled out my phone.
When I did, a bunch of missed calls and texts from Luna lined my screen, begging me to tell her that I was okay. Evidently, soon-to-be-dead Franco Hopkins had threatened me when he’d held her hostage.
The guy would pay for that, but he’d have to wait.
I opened the live feeds from my home surveillance system, clicking on the one over my front door.
Only one cop still. His hands were on his hips, and he was staring at my front door. I could ignore him, but the look on his face told me that might be a mistake. He looked determined.
If he heard or saw anything that gave him probable cause, worst case, he might enter my residence.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I knew what I needed to do.
CHAPTER64
Hunter
“Officer?” I offered with a surprised tone, as if this was the first instance I had seen him. “What can I do for you?”
I ran a towel through my wet hair, as if opening the door, wearing only pants, my chest glistening with water, hadn’t confirmed my alibi enough that my delayed response was because I had been in the shower.
Downstairs, in the basement chamber that was a mere one hundred feet from my main residence—connected by a tunnel—Franco Hopkins might be waking up at this very moment. And though I had confined him the best I could, he felt like a ticking time bomb down there.
I needed this cop to go away. Now.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Lockwood.”
“Hunter.” I smiled. “And it’s no bother at all.”
Get away, dude. Now.
The cop hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Dispatch has been trying to locate you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Why?”
