Текст книги "Brawn"
Автор книги: Laurann Dohner
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
She could see Mel and Tina’s house from the second floor of her bedroom and frowned at the sight that met her sleepy gaze. The house was lit up brightly, every room illuminated and that wasn’t normal either. They were in their late forties, worked nine-to-five jobs during the week and she usually only saw a few lights on at any given time. It was highly doubtful they’d throw a huge party mid-week, if ever.
Boomer barked rapidly, a shriek came from him and it grew eerily silent. Becca’s heart dropped and she spun, rushed for her closet and jerked it open. Her fingers traced the upper shelf, found the drawstring, silky material and dragged it down. She rushed to her window with Bradley’s beloved opera glasses and lifted them to her eyes as she pulled back the curtain with her elbow. A quick manipulation of the glasses brought her neighbor’s house into sharp focus.
At first she didn’t see anything unusual. Mel and Tina didn’t have curtains or blinds on the back of their house. The houses were too far apart for them to ever worry about needing them. All the house lots were large so people who lived in the neighborhood naturally had privacy, unless someone directed binoculars their way.
The living room was empty. She moved the glasses until the kitchen came into view, still not spotting any movement. She moved on to the family room where Tina sat in a chair. The woman’s platinum-blonde hair was hard to miss, as was her frantically shaking head and the sight of something silver over her lower face.
“What the hell?” Becca was confused by what she saw over the other woman’s face and then it sank in. “Oh my God!” Someone had covered her neighbor’s mouth with duct tape. She needed to call 9-1-1. They were being robbed!
As she started to turn away to lung for the phone, someone large, dressed in black, stepped into the room with Tina. Though his back was to her, she knew it was a man by his size. His hand lifted. A slight popping sound reached her ears right as Tina jerked backward in the chair.
“Oh fuck,” Becca hissed. Tina’s face was destroyed. Blood, gore and a misshapen mass with platinum blonde hair was all that remained. The burglar had murdered her neighbor, shot her in the face.
Becca spun, threw the opera glasses aside and ran for her bedside table. Her leg hit the bed and she nearly fell in the dark room but found the phone on her bedside table. Silence met her ear instead of a dial tone when she yanked the receiver up. She was afraid to turn on a light, didn’t want to risk the burglar being alerted if he happened to look out into the backyard when it came on. She tapped the cradle. The damn thing was dead.
Don’t panic and think! My cell phone! She’d left her purse downstairs somewhere near the front door. She eased open the drawer first, her fingers searched and found cold metal and she grabbed the gun. It felt heavy in her hand but she’d be damned if she let that asshole get away with killing Mel too. She could still be alive and might not have but a few minutes for the cops to arrive.
She stumbled for the door, hit the wall next to it and yanked it open. Becca ignored the hallway light switch, knowing the burglar would see the lights come on if he were looking out those curtainless windows toward her yard. A sob tore from her throat.
She tried to hold it together as she rushed down the dark hallway, misjudged the table and slammed into it. Becca cursed softly and gripped her knee. She hopped a few steps and clutched the gun tighter to avoid dropping the damn thing.
Motion made her gasp as a dark shape moved ahead of her. She opened her mouth to scream but remembered Brawn was in her house. The dark shadow stood in front of his room. Relief hit her big-time as she limped closer.
“I just saw my neighbor being murdered,” she whispered. “Don’t turn on the lights. The guy might see them and take off. I’m calling the police.”
“Are you sure?”
“He shot her in the face.” Becca gulped in air and felt hot tears streaming down her face. “Didn’t you hear that sound of…” She made a sobbing sound. “She’s dead. Her face was mush and there was blood. My cell phone is in my purse downstairs. The phone line is down in my bedroom. I don’t want the guy to get away.” She edged around him toward the stairs.
A pair of hands suddenly gripped her upper arms. “The phone line is down?”
“Yes.”
He growled.
“Let me go. I have to get my cell phone and be careful, I have my gun. That asshole isn’t going to get away if I have to shoot the fucker to keep him there for the cops to arrest.”
“How many men did you see?”
“One. Let go. I have to call the police and get over there before the guy gets away.”
“Don’t you think it’s alarming that your lines are down and your neighbor was just murdered?” His voice was soft. “Stay here. I have a cell phone in my room. Do not move.”
She leaned against the wall, realized her emotions were scrambled from sleep and shock and it probably wasn’t a bright idea to go climb the wall to face a burglar with a gun. As long as he didn’t realize someone had seen him, he’d take his time stealing from the house and she hadn’t seen Mel. She’d have been with Tina or she was already dead.
“Okay.”
His hands released her and he backed into his room. She stood there gripping the gun, trying to pull herself together. She wiped at tears, calmed enough to realize she was still a little drunk and Brawn was right. Calling the police was paramount. Brawn’s soft voice soothed her frayed nerves as he approached her. His dark shape halted inches from her.
“Send the police and help,” he ordered then the faint light of his cell phone died as he closed it.
“I contacted my people and they will have help to us soon.”
“Give me your phone. We need to dial 9-1-1.”
“They are doing it now. They are sending us help.”
“We don’t need help. You need to give me the phone. The police need to get to Tina’s house. Mel is there and she might still be alive. Give me the cell phone. He can’t get away with this. They need to catch him and I’m still a little drunk. I want to go over there to blow the bastard to hell the way he did Tina but I’d probably go to prison for killing him while inebriated. I can’t believe this is happ—”
“Be quiet,” Brawn suddenly hissed softly.
“I know I—”
A hand clamped over her mouth and he spun her around, just yanking her body tightly against his. One of his arms looped around her waist and his breath fanned her ear. His long hair tickled her arm.
“Someone is downstairs,” he whispered.
Terror slammed into her…but it might be her father. Maybe he’d heard Boomer bark or the sound of the gun going off. Boomer never barked at night and while the gunshot had sounded faint, unlike anything she’d ever heard, her dad was an expert with weapons. He’d know how all of them sounded when fired and would have identified it instantly.
He’d check on her first and come armed, since he slept with weapons in his nightstand drawer. Hell, he’d put the gun in Becca’s in case anyone ever broke in the house. It was always loaded, the safety off, ready to fire. She wanted to tell Brawn who it could be but his hand over her mouth prevented that.
Becca jumped when a noise came from below, a weird one that she’d never heard before and she had no idea what would cause it. It was kind of a soft motor sound and then there was a squishy sound, not a good one. Her father would have pounded up the stairs, searching for her. He would be worried sick and come after her like a charging bull to protect her.
Her heart hammered harder when it sank it that it wasn’t her father down there making the noises. Brawn’s hand over her mouth tightened and so did his arm around her waist. Her toes left the floor as he hoisted her higher up his tall body, backing them both inside his room.
“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed.
Becca kept her lips tightly sealed when the hand released her mouth. He used it to very quietly close the bedroom door and twisted the lock. He moved then, spun fast enough to make her dizzy and lifted her even higher as her legs brushed the side of his bed when he maneuvered them into the small bathroom.
“I smell four males inside your house.” He kept his voice low so that only she would hear him. “I smell blood too but I think it’s from an animal. I want you to sit on the floor in the corner and be very quiet. Do not make a sound. Do you understand me? Nod if you do. Do not speak or shoot me by accident.” He paused, one hand wrapped around hers and he tore the gun from her fingers. “I’ll keep this. You are still inebriated.”
She nodded, not sure how he knew that but couldn’t protest.
He eased her down his body and metal clinked when he set the gun down. Both his hands clutched at her, twisted her to face him, before he let go to grip the top of her head. He gently pushed, urging her to get down.
Her hands brushed hot, naked chest when she used his body to steady her trembling one. Adrenaline and the alcohol still in her system made her movements unsteady. She lowered, her hands sliding on his skin until she hit the cotton of his sweats and she realized that in any other circumstances this would probably be indecent as she crouched before him until her face was even with his groin.
Her back brushed the walls, it made her realize he’d cornered her near the sink and wall rack for towels. He released her scalp as he backed away. She lifted her chin and barely detected his dark shadow move until he reached the doorway where faint light from the main house’s floodlights, which her father always kept on, made him easier to see, illuminated somewhat even through the closed bedroom curtains in his room.
She crouched there, realized her nightshirt was wadded at her waist and her bare legs were exposed. If a light was on Brawn would be able to see her underwear and it was an undignified position with her legs spread apart. She didn’t move though, afraid she’d fall over or make a sound. Help was coming and Brawn was close. She wasn’t alone.
New Species had amazing hearing and night vision. Her father had told her that once. The other thing he’d told her was that they had bloodhound scent capability. That’s what he called it. He said most of them could smell things that others couldn’t. Brawn had said he’d smelled four men inside her house.
How does he know they are male? She bit her lip to prevent her from whispering the question to him. He had said he’d also smelled animal blood. Boomer. He’d made that horrible sound before the barking had halted. Does he smell Boomer’s blood? That thought sobered her a lot.
She kept her gaze locked on the shadowy form of Brawn while he bent over, grabbed something from under his bed and backed into the bathroom. He remained there, as if he guarded her and it made her feel better until a creaking noise reached her ears. She knew it was the third step from the top. It always made that sound when stepped on and that meant someone was coming up the stairs.
Nothing made sense. Why would the man who killed Tina be inside her house? Brawn said he’d smelled four. If he said it, it was probably true. The man who’d killed Tina couldn’t have broken into her house that fast, which meant there were at least five of them. It might be a burglary ring targeting the neighborhood. She wanted to warn Brawn but feared making a sound.
The bedroom door suddenly exploded open with a loud crash as something struck it hard. Wood splintered and Becca threw her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream. She did jump, pressed her back tightly to the wall and managed to keep her terrified gaze locked on Brawn.
He didn’t move, the sound didn’t seem to startle him but then something dropped on the wood floor. Whatever it was sounded metal and it rolled—a distinctive sound. That got the big Species to move. He reared up to his feet, spun and her eyes widened as his body hit hers before she realized what was happening.
The air was shoved from her lungs by the force of his heavy body slamming into hers. She hit the floor on her side and his weight crushed her mercilessly when he covered her. A blast of painful, earsplitting proportions stabbed through her head and bright light blinded her even though her eyelids were closed. The floor even shook under her back and thighs from the force of whatever had exploded.
A roar tore from Brawn, further deafening her since his mouth was inches from her ear, and he rolled away. The weight was gone from her body, her eyes jerked open and she fought to suck air back into her lungs. She caught sight of him rushing out the bathroom door as the lights in the room were turned on and smoke hovered near the ceiling. It was white and billowed fast.
Brawn opened fire, the sound of the shots made her flinch and she gaped at the sight of him in just a pair of dark-gray sweats, a Berretta clasped in his hand. The muzzle flashed as bullets were discharged. Someone screamed, barely distinguishable in the melee. Brawn roared again, a fierce, terrifying sound, and threw his body backward into the bathroom.
Weird metal things slammed into the bathroom door inches from him. At least six of them, a few inches long, dug into the thin wood. Brawn lunged out of the bathroom, threw his big body at the bed and opened fire again. He only got off two shots before the gun either jammed or ran out of bullets.
Becca panted, too shocked to move and her eyes widened as three men in all black suddenly threw themselves on top of the New Species. He used his legs to throw one of them up off his body as she watched in horrified shock. The man hit the ceiling hard enough to make it rain plaster before he crashed to the bed, hit the side of it and bounced to the floor.
Move! Her mind screamed and she somehow scrambled to roll over. Her limbs felt heavy, disjointed from her brain and her ears rang from the loud noises. She was dizzy as she pushed up and slammed her palm painfully on the sink countertop. Metal brushed her fingertips and propelled her to struggle harder to rise to her knees. She turned her head to stare at Brawn.
Another of the attackers was thrown off him toward the bedroom door and the hallway. Brawn twisted his body, flipped his legs and sprang off the bed in the blink of an eye with the bed now between him and the bedroom door. He backed up, growled viciously and roared. His fingers curled clawlike at his sides and he bared sharp teeth. The man who’d hit the ceiling sat up and struggled to his feet.
Becca gripped the gun, swayed on her feet and stumbled closer to the bathroom door as she put her finger on the trigger. Brawn was defenseless without a gun, trapped between the bed and the windows and faced danger. She knew how to shoot and damn well would. Her father had raised her to never fire a gun unless she was ready to kill with it. She was.
She nearly reached the door when the stupid bastard who’d just risen from the floor tried to tackle Brawn. She froze as she watched the Species swipe his big hand at the guy in black, hit his throat then shoved hard with his other. The guy flew her way.
Something warm and wet sprinkled her face as the man Brawn had slashed collapsed on to the floor between the bed and the bathroom door. The attacker’s face was turned her way and there was no missing the horrifying sight of his slashed open face, from his ear to his mouth. The stranger’s eyes were wide open, terrified and he blinked. Blood flowed from the horrible wound, pooled on the floor under his mouth and he made a hissing sound. Lifeless eyes stared at Becca after he took his last breath.
Time froze. It was surreal, too shocking for her mind and her responses shut down until the blood slowly spreading across the floor nearly touched her toes. That yanked her to the present. Only seconds had passed, but she realized the wetness on her face was blood too.
Something metal hit the wood floor in the next room and rolled. She twisted away, hunched, trying to protect herself from the stun grenade. She was sure that was what made the sound. Brawn roared again but then she couldn’t hear anything over the loud explosion that tore through the bedroom and seemed to pierce her brain. Even with her eyes tightly closed and her back to it, she was blinded for a second by the white, searing light.
She managed to stay on her feet, recovered fast and spun back around as she straightened. The gun in her numb hands jerked up to point at the doorway and she gaped at the sight of Brawn sprawled motionless over part of the bed. He’d just fallen to his knees, his upper body rested on the mattress and his hair was spilled over the sheets. He didn’t move but she did notice his chest moving slightly and was assured he breathed.
Someone stepped in front of the doorway, obscuring her view of Brawn and she stumbled back. The guy wore all black, his face covered in a mask and goggles even hid his eyes. They were round tinted ones, not night vision gear, but smaller. Her hand shook as she remembered to keep the gun aimed at him.
“Easy,” he demanded gruffly. His hands slowly lifted away from his side, straight out, and she saw a strange, weapon in his hand. It wasn’t anything she’d ever seen before. It was bulky with a wide barrel, a longer version of a handgun, with a round cylinder at the base of it. She glanced at the metal things sticking in the door before her attention jerked to his covered face and eyes. That thing shot those. She knew it, though not what they were.
“Don’t move.” Her voice shook. “I will fire.”
“Easy,” he repeated, not moving a muscle. “You have no chance of survival if you kill me. Pull that trigger and my men will take you out. Do you understand me?”
Terror gripped her. She knew there were more of them, that he wasn’t bullshitting, but they’d killed Tina. They’d kill her too. They weren’t burglars. That fact sank in fast and hard. They dressed the way her father’s men did for covert operations. She’d seen enough of her dad’s laundry to know military issue when she saw it. What the fuck is going on?
“We came for the New Species.” He kept his voice low and calm. “That’s all. Lower the gun, miss. You’re not our target.”
“You can’t have him.” Her voice came out a little stronger. “I’m not stupid and I’m not lowering this gun. I won’t miss you.” She adjusted the aim to make sure he knew she pointed it at the center of his skull. “Tell your men to get the fuck out or I’ll be cleaning your brains off the walls for weeks. I called 9-1-1. The police should be here any second.”
“Fuck,” a male voice hissed from the other side of the wall, telling her that another man was inches from the door and within reach of the asshole who filled the bathroom door.
“Tell your guy to back off.” Her finger tightened on the trigger. “I’m scared, freaked the hell out, and I might shoot you if I see the slightest movement.”
“Back off,” the guy who seemed in charge ordered. “She’s got a Berretta pointed straight at my head.”
“And I know how to use it,” she said for good measure. She glanced at the space between the guy’s head and the doorway and spotted Brawn still motionless. Her attention focused on the threat. “Move real slow and drop your weapon.”
His hand opened and the weird weapon landed on the dead guy on the floor. “Are you a cop?”
“No, but I won’t miss you.”
He cleared his throat. “Are you his security detail?”
“No but I’ll kill you to protect him. You aren’t taking him. Order your men to leave my house but you don’t move. You’re my insurance that they don’t try anything stupid. They do and you’re dead.”
“Your house? He lives with you?”
“Shut up and do what I said. Order your men out.”
He hesitated. “Fine.” The fingers of his open hand jerked at his side in a wave motion.
She relaxed slightly, a mistake on her part, thinking he’d silently ordered his men to leave with the hand signal. Instead bullets blasted through the walls. She pulled the trigger and threw her body to the floor.
Weight slammed down on her back. She couldn’t even scream from the pain of being crushed and the gun was torn from her fingers. Whoever had slammed into her shifted his weight and a hand fisted painfully in her hair, forcing her head back. She gasped in air and screamed then.
An elbow nailed her in the back, cutting the sound off from the fresh pain and the body lifted. She spotted her gun near the toilet, too far to grab before she was hauled up by the vicious grip fisting her hair at the base of her neck. She swayed on her feet, clutched at the gloved hand and realized she’d missed killing the son of a bitch when he spoke.
“A couple inches off your mark but you clocked my cheek.” He sounded pissed. “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”
He shoved her hard. She slammed into the wall and groaned. She turned, knew she would die and prayed her father had gotten lucky with his date. He’d have heard the explosions and gunfire from the main house. The bastards had either killed her dad before they’d attacked her house or he was spending the night elsewhere. Otherwise he’d have come after her by now.
She glared at the son of a bitch who had her trapped. It was satisfying to see the tear in the black material near his ear, red showed from the bloody wound the bullet had inflicted and she hoped it left a hell of a scar. Her chin rose as she glared at him and her fingers fisted at her sides.
“Fuck you.”
Two more black-clad figures entered the bathroom, weird weapons drawn and they pointed them at her. One of them spoke. “You okay, Randy?”
“Fine,” their leader sighed. “She nicked my cheek but I dodged for the most part.”
She looked up and realized they’d shot through the wall separating the bedroom and bathroom too high to have hit where she’d been standing. It was confusing since she’d been sure they were trying to kill her.
“Who are you?”
Randy reached out suddenly and grabbed her by her throat, yanked her away from the wall and fisted her hair again. He pulled hard enough to jerk her head back as he pulled her tight against him. She could detect cigarettes on his breath, which fanned through the material over his mouth.
“Is she one of them?” One of his men stepped to the side of her.
“Nope. Human. I’m sure. She’s not a New Species. Her eyes are normal.”
Someone else entered the bathroom. “We’re picking up chatter. Our second team just intercepted the cops. They are coming. We’ve got four minutes.”
“Fuck,” Randy hissed. He let go and shoved her against the wall. He grabbed his uninjured ear and tapped it.
“This is alpha dog. We have a female inside the male’s bathroom. She’s obviously screwing him since she admitted it’s her house and they are both locked in his room.” He paused for seconds. “She’s alive. I checked and she’s not one of them—she’s human.” He paused again. “Understood. I’ll bring her in with him.” He tapped his ear to cut the transmission.
He grabbed her hair, jerked her away from the wall and fisted the back of her shirt too as he spun her around. “It’s your lucky damn day. You get to live. Move. You try anything and I’ll hurt you bad. My orders are to bring you in breathing but nobody said I couldn’t make you suffer.”
He stopped her at the bathroom door. The dead guy was inches from her bare feet. She felt wet heat on the floor like warm syrup. She didn’t look down to verify she stood in blood. She didn’t need to see it to know. Nausea roiled up and she made a gagging sound.
The hand tightened on her shirt and the man jerked her. “You puke and I’ll break your damn jaw.”
Becca frantically fought to thwart the urge. She watched helplessly as two men lifted Brawn off the bed. They gripped him under his armpits and dragged him toward the door.
Who are these assholes? She was terrified. Any law-enforcement agency would have identified themselves before attacking. That left the opposite of law enforcement. Maybe mercenaries? Becca quaked at the thought. Her father said the difference between one of them and a soldier was that his men would only kill when issued orders.
Three more black-clad men, their faces and hair concealed, walked into the room. One of them pulled another of the unusual weapons, aimed at Brawn’s leg and fired. The dart embedded in Brawn’s upper thigh but he didn’t flinch, still unconscious.
“That’s two,” the man who had shot him sighed. “Let’s keep track. We don’t want to kill him. In fifteen minutes we’ll dose him again.”
“Fuck,” another man softly swore. “That won’t kill him? That’s a hell of lot.”
“They have high drug tolerances from all those years of testing and they have a fast metabolism. You don’t want this bastard to wake up until we get him in a cage. It would be the last mistake you ever made.”
“It wasn’t so hard getting him.” Randy chuckled. “It was easier than I thought.”
The man who’d shot Brawn with the dart shook his head. “It was the female. He couldn’t flee so he had to fight. If it wasn’t for her we wouldn’t have caught him. He would have been out the window and miles from here before we reached the room. He locked the door and was waiting for us when we attacked, to protect her. He heard us coming.”
Becca felt bad. Brawn wouldn’t have been captured if she had spent the night at her dad’s house. Shit.
“Let’s move out. The police will be here soon.” Randy shoved her from behind. “Walk.”
The shooter holstered his bulky gun against his thigh, moved forward and grabbed Brawn’s legs. The three of them carried him out and Becca was forced to walk behind the trio. Randy kept a tight hold on her and she didn’t bother to fight. There were too many of them for her to win. They were obviously well trained and while her father had made her take martial arts, she was a realist. They exited out of the back of her house where the entire slider doorframe had been totally removed in one piece from the wall.
They carried Brawn to the back wall at Tina and Mel’s yard. One man released Brawn’s legs and climbed the wall, while the other two lifted Brawn’s limp body up. The sound of a distant siren made Becca fight back the urge to attack Randy. She could take him by surprise, maybe and flee into the darkness. They wouldn’t have much time to find her before the cops arrived but they also might just shoot her in the back. Kill her.
Brawn had been caught because he’d refused to leave her behind to flee. She clenched her teeth as the asshole shoved her at the wall. The three carrying Brawn had already made it over with him, out of sight. She raised her arms to grip the top of the wall. She wasn’t leaving Brawn. He was helpless, drugged and she might see an opportunity to save him.
Never leave a man behind. That was one of her dad’s favorite mottos. Fuck! She wasn’t about to abandon Brawn.
Chapter Four
Becca felt hope that perhaps the cops would arrive and save the day until she was pushed into a waiting black van parked in Mel and Tina’s driveway. She saw a white logo sticker across the side of it advertising security. They were smart, the cops probably wouldn’t stop them, figuring they were there to respond to a silent alarm. Her optimism died.
Randy shoved her inside the back of the well-lit interior of the van and straight into a large cage. She landed on something warm. Brawn was sprawled under her, not moving, his eyes closed. A loud sound behind her made her jump as the cage door slammed closed, locking them inside together.
Becca watched men pile into the front half of the commercial-sized van. The front driver door and passenger door opened to admit two more men. There were seven in all. The driver’s face wasn’t covered and she was pretty sure from the back of his head that it was the prick who’d shot Tina. He turned to glance at the back.
“Let’s roll, people.” He chuckled. “That was some easy money.” The van engine started and it rolled forward, taking her away.
Laughter sounded around the van after one of the men closed a curtain partition from the front so they could keep the lights on without anyone seeing them. “Well, not for Smitty.”
More laughter. “He was a prick anyway.”
“Maybe we should have taken his body with us.”
“Naw. It will confuse the cops. He’s got a list of burglary raps.”
Becca couldn’t tell who was talking with their mouths covered. She shifted her body to ease her weight off Brawn. The cage was large, designed for a big animal, but not big enough to keep her from having to press against him a little. She settled on the cage floor on her butt and leaned against his chest. She studied his face with concern and touched two fingers to his neck to feel a weak but steady pulse.
“Look? It must be love. She’s touching him.”
Another one snickered. “I wouldn’t mind her touching me.”
“Me neither.”
Becca ignored them as she brushed Brawn’s hair back from his forehead after spotting a scratch above his eyebrow. It wasn’t deep, didn’t bleed much and she slid her fingers through his tresses to feel for any hidden lumps. She noticed the silky texture as she examined him but she didn’t find any signs of head trauma.
“Think she’s going to get it on with him?”
A few of them laughed.
“Well, if not him, maybe one of them.”
More laughs.
“I think I’m going to volunteer monitor duty when we get back. I want to see this if the Doc wants them to fuck.”
More laughs.
Becca gritted her teeth and looked up. She glared at the heads turned her way and met the eyes of the men watching her since they’d removed their goggles while she tended Brawn.
“You’ve made the worst mistake of your lives. My father is going to hunt down and kill everyone involved so I hope you spend your money fast.”
One of them snickered. “And who’s your daddy, piece of ass?”
“He lives in the big house on the property you just invaded and hates mercenaries.” She said it to see if they’d respond. She needed answers and every word might clue her in to what kind of mess she was dealing with.
“I hate to break this to you but no one is going to find you in the hole you’re going to. Your daddy was probably cowering under his bed when he heard those gunshots. Assholes are all talk to their kids.”
More laughter.
Becca didn’t know why these men wanted Brawn and she wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just killed her. They obviously had no qualms about killing innocent people since Tina was dead. Relief washed through her because she’d learned one thing for sure. Her father would arrive at her house at eight in the morning to pick up Brawn. He was alive.
