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“Holy shit,” he says, suddenly getting excited.
He recognizes me. Good. I was counting on that.
“You’re Conner Wiseman.” A giddy fan boy look replaces all suspicion.
“Yeah, that’s me.” I look around and notice there are two other vehicles parked out here. A flashy Lamborghini and a black Lincoln Navigator with dark tinted windows. I can’t tell if there’s anyone inside. “My car broke down and my phone battery died so I’m a little lost.”
The guy is so eager to be of some use that he doesn’t think this sounds at all weird. “Shit, I never expected to run into you down here but you can damn well borrow my phone.”
“Appreciate it.” I’m about to send him down into the dirt and seize his gun when the door of the Navigator flies open and another man steps out.
“Greco, what the hell’s going on?” He barrels over here, scowling all the way, and I can tell at a glance he’s far sharper and more skeptical than his counterpart.
Looking past him, I see that he left the car door open. There doesn’t appear to be any additional occupants. Good to know.
Greco points to me excitedly. “It’s Conner Wiseman!” He thinks this is sufficient explanation.
His buddy doesn’t agree. The man looks me over with contempt. “Yeah, I know who you are. Now get the fuck out of here.” Then he changes his mind and draws his gun. “Know what? Fuck that. Smile, asshole.”
That’s the last thing he says. There’s a loud crack and a hole appears where his right eye used to be. He gurgles and drops.
Greco is slow to catch up. “FUCK!” he screams and scrambles for his gun.
Instead of watching that happen, I tackle him to the ground and let his face meet my fist. His eyes roll back and he goes limp.
Gage, an expert marksman, fired the shot that killed Greco’s pal. He now stands over the dead man’s body, takes a shrewd look around and waves us ahead.
“Let’s go before someone comes to investigate the noise.”
The unconscious man doesn’t notice when I drape him over my right shoulder.
Micah stares. “What do you plan to do with that?”
“Cover me.” Before my cousins can object, I cross the distance to the door in record time, using Greco’s body as a primitive shield.
A broken window pane is set into the door. Above that is a warped painted sign that reads ‘Office’. I look through the broken window. There’s nothing to see inside except a filthy room that looks like it might have been a reception area. My ears strain to hear a low murmur of voices. I see no one.
But I know she’s here. I just know.
“Conner.” Behind me, Gage’s voice is hoarse, intentionally muted. He wants me to wait until he gets a lay of the land.
The door is partially open. The noise is minimal when I creak it open wider and step into a small lobby that must have seen better days.
An open doorway yawns to the left and sounds drift from that direction. A man curses. A woman giggles. A repetitive scraping noise stabs at some deep vortex inside my brain. I know the sound. I just can’t place it.
Right at my back, Gage and Micah slip through the door without a peep.
Then Haven screams and my soul splinters.
Without thinking, the man on my shoulder gets hurled into the next room like a two-hundred-pound missile.
The result is effective. There’s a loud crash, the thud of one body hitting another, a man’s yelp of pain.
Gage cuts past me and drops to a crouch, gun raised, just inside the room. I follow with Micah breathing down my neck.
The scene is my worst nightmare. All it takes is a millisecond for the sight to be branded into my mind.
Haven sits in a chair, cuffed to a metal pipe. Her shirt is torn in half. They burned her.The motherfuckers burned a hole in her chest!
