Wrenched

Текст добавлен: 15 октября 2016, 02:14

Текст книги "Wrenched"

Автор книги: Emma James

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Современные любовные романы

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

I use the flashlight app to search for her bike keys, but I can’t find them with a quick inspection of the area, and I don’t have the time to search for them properly. They may even have kept them.

I head back to the house. There’s gotta be something I can find out about her inside it.

Blood’s dripping everywhere as I make my way into the house. The front door was left unlocked because apparently she has issues with locking doors behind her.

I had watched and waited patiently for her to come back outside from that house so I could end her life, and my mission would have been completed, but something felt off to me, watching her staring at the garden patch like it meant a great deal to her.

I still didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

If she was associated with my father, then she couldn’t have been good, was my last thought before I laid her out on the ground and the night turned into a free-for-all dust-up.

The house is dark, only barely lit in front of me by the flashlight app. It’s enough to draw my attention to an envelope propped up on the dining table. I hobble closer to see a key sitting next to it.

The envelope is addressed to Dallas Dupré.

A red flag went up when I received my letter from the lawyer, because it was addressed to my new family surname, the one I was given to hide my identity from my father. The check was also made out to Dallas Masson.

Christ, what game is my father playing?

Something was off about the will and I didn’t take the time to follow it through. I flew out of Albuquerque all hot-headed, instead of taking the time to think. That’s a rookie’s error.

I open the envelope and start reading. I can’t read fast enough.

Motherfucking cocksucker asshole!

I shove the letter into my jacket pocket and also pocket the key. I have to get out of this house and get to a computer, but first I have to clean up the blood spilling from my foot, where I had trailed it into the house. I find some dish towels in a cupboard and I take the fucking time to clean up any evidence I have been here.

It takes too long.

Now, I can’t get out the house quick enough as I try to work out where I can find a computer this late at night, so I can track where Whisper is being taken. I didn’t want to let Hazard know about this clusterfuck. I can handle this shit myself. There’s nothing I can’t handle.

My bike’s hidden in the thick trees surrounding the property. I had walked a distance to get here, and that was gonna come back to piss me right off.

I push Whisper’s bike into the trees and then head off on foot to get to my bike.

Time is wasting away. My foot’s exploding with pain as I jog as best as I can all the way back through the forest to my bike where it’s hidden, and get back on the road and ride towards town. I’ve lost blood, and I’m having trouble seeing through the blinding pain from when the second prick knocked me out. Feels like the fucker used a rock on my head.

I’m speeding along the dirt road when my bike’s light picks up a shadow on the side of the road, and then the shadow decides to step out into the path of my bike.

It’s an old lady.

What the fucking hell?

I swerve to miss her at the last minute, which sends me careening off the road into a painful slide.

Jesus Christ, this night just keeps getting better.

I know how to let my body fall so the damage will be less, but it’s still gonna do some damage. My helmet saves my head, and the leather jacket and pants I’m wearing save me from the impact of the ground sliding harshly underneath me. When I’ve finally come to a stop, I groan from the pain in my foot. It’s wedged underneath the bike, which is lying sideways and partially on top of me.

An old face appears in my vision. “I’m Miss Catherine, and I’ll be needin’ your help, young man. I need to find a girl; it’s an emergency.”

“Christ, lady, I’ve just missed killing you and you want to have a chat?” Un-fucking-believable.

Then her name registers to me, it’s the lady who was trying to call Whisper. I struggle to get up and see if the bike is still roadworthy. My response is muffled. “Lady, you should not be out here at this time of night. What the hell are you thinking?”

I take my helmet off, which is wet with blood, and assess the damage, ignoring the little old woman standing beside me, hovering. I stand the bike up and notice the tiny blinking red light of the tracker that has come loose and is lying in front of me. I’d forgotten about it. I pick it up, smothering a curse under my breath. As long as they think I’m not following them, this will work in my favor.

Miss Catherine puts her wrinkly hand on my arm, getting my attention as I look up at her. “It’s Whisper. I know she’s in danger. I was coming to find her. She didn’t answer my call.” I can see she’s agitated. She holds up her phone then dials a number and Whisper’s phone implicates me by ringing in my jacket pocket. It obviously survived the fall. Then she starts hitting me with her little fist. “Where is Whisper?” She takes a really good look at me now, taking in my face and the blood matting my hair, making all sorts of assumptions in her head. She’s also noticed I was hobbling when I got out from underneath the bike and knows I’m hurt. She probably doesn’t know I’ve been shot, but she doesn’t hesitate to step on my foot as hard as her slight body will let her.

“AH! Shit, lady, I’m trying to find out. And don’t do that again.” Fucking hell, she might be old, but she sure is feisty.

She stares me down through the glow of the headlight. “Why do you have her phone?”

“She has my phone,” is the only explanation I’m gonna give this crazy bat. Time is ticking away. “Do you have a computer at home?”

She eyes me up again then answers, “Whisper does. I got no use for one of dem things.”

I can see she wants to ask a whole pile of questions, but we have no time for a get-to-know-each-other chat. I pay closer attention to the little old lady and notice she’s only wearing a nightgown, slippers, and a robe. “Fuck’s sake, lady, you shouldn’t be out here dressed like this.” Whisper must mean a lot to her to have left her home, searching for her without a second thought.

She stomps back down on my foot. “Mind your language, boy.”

Jesus! “Enough!” I roar back at her. This gives her pause to reconsider her behavior with me. She’s now dialling a number on her phone. I snatch the phone away from her and disconnect it before putting it in my pocket. I don’t need this turning into a three-ringed circus.

I can see she’s distraught about Whisper. “Look, lady...you are gonna have to trust me if you want to see Whisper again. Shit went down tonight and she’s been taken by some bad guys, so we’re gonna have to do this my way.” I let what I’ve said sink in. “If I’m going to be able to find her, I need a computer, pronto.” My patience is wearing thin with this woman. Whisper was my enemy, but now I’m not so sure.

“My phone’s in the trunk she’s laying in at the moment, being driven away by bad guys. If I can get a read on where they are now, then we have a chance of getting her back.” If I know a thug’s modus operandi, then they won’t stop until they get her to their destination. They can’t afford for her to die on them, so time’s running out for me to find her. If they find my phone, they will ditch it, and then I will lose all means of tracking her whereabouts.

She grabs hold of my jacket. “Is she hurt?”

Christ!

“Yes. She’s been shot, so I can’t stand around shooting the breeze with you. I can either leave you here to make your way back where you came from, or we’re going to your place. It’s your call.” I should just fucking walk away...but something is grounding me. I think I have grown a fucking conscience. My brain is needling me about this whole Whisper and my father’s will situation. It now feels very orchestrated.

I get on my bike and hiss out a couple more expletives from the pain shooting from my foot when I start it up.

“Lady, do you think you can get on behind me and hang on so we can get to your place without any further shit going up against me?” I need her computer, and I need some answers from this woman. She knows Whisper, and she will make my mind up whether I let her rot and pay my father’s debt, or if she’s an innocent caught in the crossfire and I need my foot looked at as well.

“She could die?” Her voice has turned to steel.

“Fuck, lady, what bit of ‘there’s no time to explain now’ are you not getting? If you’re coming, then get on.” She hikes up her clothing and deftly swings her leg over the bike. Christ, what more can happen tonight? I hand her my helmet, blood-soaked and all.

“Put that on.”

I regain consciousness inside a confined space. My shoulder is in pain, but manageable if I don’t move too much, and my hands and feet are tied together.

I turn my head to get an idea of where I am. I listen to my surroundings. I gather I’m in the trunk of a car, which is driving along a road. My face hurts; it feels swollen, and my ribs are hurting. I try to look through the darkness for anything I can use to aid my dire situation, and I’m alerted to a blinking light.

Is that a phone by my head?

Who abducts somebody and leaves a phone in the trunk? I don’t care, because it’s just by dumb luck it’s here. I move my body and groan with the pain until I can grab it between my hands. I roll onto my stomach, which makes my shoulder scream in agony, and something wet lands on my hands. I know what blood smells like, and I’m bleeding from my shoulder wound.

I can feel a hysterical giggle start to bubble up inside me, which I work hard at stamping down, because I may fear for my life, but the last thing I need to do is go into shock.

What did I do to deserve this life? I inwardly groan. I had happiness, and now my life has turned to shit again, and I have no clue why.

I really must have had an exceptionally fabulous life in a past one for me to be getting shit on so badly in this one.

I concentrate on the phone and try to stop my hands from shaking. I can press the buttons better in the position I’m now in. I check the time, seeing it’s after midnight. I’ve been out for a while.

I can’t think of Boxer’s number. I am so used to pressing a speed dial button.

Concentrate, Whisper.

Come on, think.

I slowly start pressing the buttons for Boxer’s number I hope I have right just as the car takes a sharp turn, and I go sliding, the phone slipping out of my hands.

I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from crying out in pain.

Fuck, that hurt.

Once we straighten up again, I manoeuvre my body to get back to the phone. I start to dial again, but I have to disconnect, because the car has come to a stop. I need to hide the phone quickly. I work my leg around, preparing to slide it into my boot, when we take off again.

I decide to call Miss C instead, because I know that number and she will answer. I dial her number, and a male voice answers, “Sara is that you?” I don’t answer. “Whisper, is that you?”

I don’t know what to say. It’s a male voice, and it’s not Boxer’s or Lincoln’s. It sounds like Edge’s voice.

How? Why?

“Edge, is that you? Is Miss Catherine all right?” I talk low into the phone. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to keep her safe. She can’t be brought into whatever the hell’s going on.” I can’t keep the fear from invading my voice. Miss Catherine means too much to me. I don’t know why I’ve been kidnapped and am lying in a trunk, with what I’m guessing is a gunshot wound, but if it keeps her safe, then I will take this punishment.

There’s a shuffling noise. “I’m here, honeychile. I am safe with Dallas. He be helpin’ me to find you. Do as they say and give him time to get to you. I’ve tried Boxer, and I can’t get through to him or Lincoln.”

Dallas?

His voice is back. “Yes, it’s me. Whisper, we need to talk, but now’s not the time. We are tracking the phone I slipped into the trunk with you. You have to keep it hidden, and I need you to put it on silent. I want you to save the battery, because I need to be able to stay in contact with you.”

Edge?

Something occurs to me in all this hellish mess I’ve found myself in. “Can Miss Catherine hear me?”

“No, I have her phone.”

The pain in my shoulder is different to any pain I’ve experienced in the past. “Did I get shot?”

“Shit, Whisper, not now.” His voice sounds rough and guilty.

Then it strikes me I thought I’d heard him back at the house, which has been confirmed, because I have his phone next to me. “Did you shoot me?”

There’s cursing coming down the line. “There appears to have been a misunderstanding.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” There’s silence at the other end of the line. “Did you want to kill me?”

Suddenly, the car comes to another halt. It feels more permanent. “I have to go; they’ve stopped.” Just before I hang up, I hear Edge curse out loud and something smashes. I disconnect, put the phone on silent, and work my body so I can slide the phone into the side of my calf-length right boot. My legs are tied at my ankles, so I can get it in far enough to hide it for now.

I can’t even process what all this means at the moment. He shot me? He must have known who I was when he arrived at the bar.

He was playing me.

Stalking me.

He was going to kill me.

Why?

I had sex with him.

I feel sick.

I quickly put all that into a box and pack it away in my mind. My immediate thoughts have to be on surviving whatever mess I’ve been dropped into. Miss Catherine will get through to Boxer, and he will save me. I don’t want Edge anywhere near me.

Just before the trunk pops open I calm myself and pretend to be out cold. It’s my only defense against what’s coming for me.

I can’t even afford to tremble in fear.

I feel a monster greater than William Dupré is waiting for me, and I’m fucking scared.

Thank you to my family for your ongoing support of my writing and everything that comes with it. You listen to me when I get excited about the milestones that mean so much to me on this journey of mine.

I have to next thank my middle man-child again. Three books in and he is still sharing his not very large bedroom with me and my office. He is so very patient with me. Love you, hun. Xx

To Jemina Venter, you know I love everything about you and what you do for me. You rocked another cover with such professionalism and talent. Thank you! Xx

You can find Jemina on facebook @ Booknerdfangirl Designs.

To the beta readers who gave up their time to give me some feedback on Wrenched, I thank you. Louise (UK), Maria York (USA Book Boyfriend Hangover Blog), Sam Shemeld (UK), who reviews for FMR Book Grind, your tough and honest critiques were welcomed and appreciated. I listen and work harder because of all of you. Beta reader feedback is so valuable to an author. Thank you all for your support.

Without an editor...well, my work would not be shiny. Editors are so important. Thank you to Becky Johnson at Hot Tree Editing for your professionalism and to Kayla Greenwood Robichaux for your mad editing skills and fun comments. We shall get the gang back together for Warped. I promise not to use the word ‘dump’ near a sex scene ever again. The Aussie in me likes to dump things on the ground. LOL! Sometimes an author can have a bad word placement and really not notice the why of that until an editor in a cape comes along and goes...NO!

I want to thank Teri, Jill, Kolleen, Andrea and Barb who are part of the beta reading team for Hot Tree Editing for their feedback. I loved reading all your comments.

To Debb Lynn for always being herself. You are such a gem.

To Kasey for her enthusiasm and pimping skills.

To Katrina Hill for the name Whisper. You have mad naming skills.

To Sam Shemeld & Rose, you know why. You ladies rock!

I would like to thank the lovely Max Henry for formatting Wrenched. She is such a brilliant formatter. I highly recommend her.

I want to thank all the bloggers who came on board from the very beginning, and the ones who joined along the way. You know who you all are. Thank you for taking a chance on me and for your support. It really means the world to me. You selflessly promote authors every day for just a thank you. It is so very appreciated.

FMR Book Grind are handling my blog tour and Rose & Atalia are the nicest ladies. I highly recommend them.

To the readers: Creating Wrenched was a pleasure, one that I had a great time writing. There is so much more to be told. I thank you for reading my books and hope you will all stay with me for this journey and come back for more.

If you enjoyed my books please consider leaving a review. I appreciate the time spent sharing your thoughts with others, even if only a few words. I read each and every review.

Emma

xoxoxo

Hi there,

I’m Emma James. I was born in the Barossa Valley, a beautiful area of South Australia, and I am married with three teenagers. There is never a dull moment in my life and for this, I am truly grateful because life is too short to contemplate the what ifs. You’ll never know unless you give it a try.

I certainly wouldn’t have thought I could have self-published three books in ten months, with a fourth book on the way...but I have. It has been the most amazing experience and a total uphill learning curve, but I fully embraced the challenge for the hard work that it is, and I am rather addicted to writing now.

I’m hoping some familiar faces are reading Wrenched and also some new readers have joined in along the way. Many more stories are buzzing about in my mind, itching to be set free through my finger tips. I look forward to sharing them all with you.

I appreciate all of my readers and love hearing from you. I hope to bring you an escapism that stays with you and keeps you coming back for more.

You can find me at:

Twitter: @emmajamesbooks

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Email: [email protected]

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