Page 19 of His Claim

I felt the coolness of the dye next to my scalp, and I knew there wasn’t any turning back now.

Ten-year-old Tatum screamed with glee, and thirty-six-year-old Tatum knew she had fully and completely become a part of the chaos Murphy had warned her about.

Chapter Eight

Murphy

“This it?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“How the fuck did Brandt get a place like this?” Apollo asked.

Now that I wasn’t running for my life, I could take in the place we had escaped from.

It was a two-story house with wood siding and a black roof. A large porch was on the front, and a cement patio was on the back. There was a glass patio table with four chairs around it and a large umbrella. It looked like a family lived there, not Brandt, the psycho.

We had circled the property carefully and hadn’t seen anyone.

King held up his phone and said, “According to the state real estate registry, Greg Chambers owns it.”

“Are we supposed to know who the fuck that is?” Creed asked.

I nodded to Creed. “Text the name to Leo and see if it rings a bell with him.”

Creed pulled out his phone and sent off a message.

“We gonna just stand here looking at the place, or are we going to check it out?” King called from the sidewalk by the front.

“Well, I’m assuming no one is here because they would have taken their shot at us if they were.” I nodded to King. “You take the front; we’ll take the back.”

Creed, Apollo, and I headed to the back of the house while King and the other guys headed to the front door.

“That the window you busted out of?” Creed asked.

Everything looked exactly as it had yesterday. The shattered glass was scattered around the window, and nothing was moved.

This was fucking weird.

What was the point of kidnapping Tatum and me and then just leaving us there?

Apollo cautiously climbed the steps to the backdoor with his gun drawn and pulled open the screen door.

Creed’s phone dinged. “Leo says this place is listed as a rental.”

“So Brandt was renting it?” I asked.

“Well, sort of. It’s one of those places you can rent for a few nights. Like, when you’re on vacation and don’t want to stay in a hotel,” Creed explained.

“Who the hell would want to stay out here in the middle of nowhere?” Apollo asked. He stepped into the house, and we followed behind him.

“Anything back there?” King hollered.

“Nothing,” Apollo replied.

We walked through the mudroom with a washer and dryer and into the kitchen.

“This where you were held?” Rigid called.

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