Текст книги "Deceiving Lies"
Автор книги: Molly McAdams
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
4
Rachel
“CANDICE, I’M SO SERIOUS, one of these days you’re going to get pregnant and you’re going to have no clue who the father is.” I laughed sadly and flopped down onto the couch as a horrified gasp filled my ear.
“I am not about to have little Candices running around. You know I’m careful, and you don’t have room to talk about being safe, Miss We-don’t-use-condoms.”
Oh Lord, I didn’t even want to tell her about the pseudo-fight Kash and I had about condoms and birth control pills a couple weeks ago. “I’m only with Kash, though! You probably can’t even count how many guys you’re with right now.” I could picture her face as she tried to remember everyone and shook my head. “I’ll take your silence as confirmation that you can’t.”
“Whatever, I’m having fun.”
“Obviously, that was never a—” I sucked in a large breath as something cold, wet, and fluffy covered my face. “Kash!” He barked out a laugh as I wiped the whipped cream away from my eyes and sent a look of death his way, making him laugh louder.
He smiled widely, and I hated him for that smile at that moment. “You look adorable.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
He shook the can in the air, just in case I’d missed it being in his hand the first time. “Ice cream time.”
“I’m on the phone!”
“Yeah, and it’s time for you to get off.”
“You—are you . . . ooo I want to punch you in the face right now.” Candice was laughing loud enough for both of us to hear from where I’d dropped my phone on the couch, and when I reached for my phone, Kash took a step toward me with the can raised. “You wait!” Holding my hand up to stop him, I grabbed my phone and spoke slowly. “Candi, I have to go kill my fiancé now, I’ll call you later.”
“Have fun! Don’t hurt him too much, love you!”
“He just whip creamed my face. No promises. Love you back.” After tapping the END button, I stood slowly and never took my eyes off the weapon. “That wasn’t nice.”
“I’m sure you’ll get over it. I made you a banana split.”
“And you put the topping on my face! That isn’t exactly something you should be proud of right now. It’s sticky.”
Grabbing my hand, he pulled me close and tried to fight a smile as his eyes roamed over my face. “Don’t whine, Sour Patch. You really do look adorable, you’re just missing something.”
Before I could move away, he hooked his arm around my neck and sprayed more whipped cream on top of my head, smashing it in as I maneuvered out of his arms. Wiping my hands across my face, I lunged at him, but he shot more out of the can, aimed directly at my face. At the last second I turned and took off, running toward the kitchen.
“You are such an asshole!” I screamed behind me as I ran, but I couldn’t stop laughing even as my nose began burning from somehow snorting up some of the whipped cream.
I heard the clacking of Trip’s nails on the hardwood behind me, but no Kash. Turning to look proved Kash wasn’t there, but I heard the sound of heavy footsteps just as I turned back around. I screamed as Kash came barreling toward me from the opposite direction, and I tried to turn back to go the way I’d been coming from but ran into Trip seconds before Kash did, and we both went crashing down onto the hardwood floor.
Kash’s arm came up with the can, but before he could spray more, I smacked the can away and tried to crawl away from him and closer to it. And yes, okay I’ll admit I may have cheated by accidentally kicking him in the stomach as I crawled away. A half-laugh, half-shout of victory left me when I reached the can and turned it on Kash, but nothing came out.
“Are you shitting me?”
He laughed and ripped the can from my hand, and after a shake, more fluffiness was spraying out at my face.
“What the hell? That’s not fair!”
“What can I say? The can hates you,” he boasted proudly as the sounds of an empty can filled the otherwise quiet hall. “Don’t pout. You look amazing.”
I couldn’t help it. I was pouting like a four-year-old and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to, which I totally didn’t. “I’m covered. You just wasted nearly an entire can of whipped cream on my face, and it’s in my hair!”
A look of shock covered his handsome face. “Oh God no, not the hair!” he smirked, and a small laugh left him when my pout increased. “Come here, beautiful.” Kissing my lips softly through the whipped cream, he licked off what had transferred onto his face and kissed me again. “See? Beautiful and delicious. Really, you should be thanking me right now.”
“Hate is a strong word and it’s coming to mind when I look at you.”
“Aw, I love you too, snookems.”
“I will murder you.”
“I know.” He smiled and let his hands trail down my waist to my barely there sleep shorts. I moaned unattractively when his hand trailed over where I wanted him most. “What if I promised to help clean it off you?”
Yes. Please. “Much less likely to murder you.”
He barked out a laugh that cut off quickly when his cell started blaring the tone he set for anyone at the police department. “Damn it.”
Not happening. I need sexy time with my man while he cleans whip cream off me!
“Ryan,” he answered and gave me an apologetic look a few silent moments later. “Yeah—yeah, I’m on my way.”
“Gotta go?”
“Yeah.” He grimaced and helped me stand up. “I’m sorry, Rach. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Double homicide, looks like it’s gang related.”
“Don’t be sorry, go do what you do best.” He and Mase weren’t even on call for over twenty-four more hours. I wanted to ask why they couldn’t have called someone else, but I kept my mouth shut and smiled through my disappointment. He looked like he was beating himself up enough; he didn’t need me making it worse.
“Thank you.”
He took off for the bedroom, and I walked into the kitchen to wet a paper towel so I could wipe all the gross-ness off my face. By the time I was walking back into the hallway with a wet washcloth to clean anything else that had been sprayed, Kash was jogging back down the hall in a clean shirt while putting his gun in the holster, his badge hanging around his neck.
Grabbing my chin, he pulled me close and kissed me hard. “Be back soon, love you, Rach.”
“Love you too.”
After he was gone, I finished cleaning and called Candice back as I dumped the banana splits Kash had made.
“Did you hurt him?” she asked in way of greeting.
“Ha. No, he got called in.”
“Bummer.”
“Tell me about it, it was just about to get good too. He told me he was going to clean all the whipped cream off me, I was picturing us in the shower . . . yeah, no. Didn’t happen.”
“That sucks. He should have told them to give him half an hour.”
I laughed out loud and hung my head. “I’m just saying, whipped cream wars are not as fun as they portray them in books or movies. They’re usually all sexy and whatnot. Ours? Not so much. I got whipped cream up my nose, I was running away from him and fell over Trip and hit the hardwood really hard. Like, I think my hip and elbow are going to bruise from it because Kash was on top of me when I went down. When I knocked the can out of his hand it somehow hurt me more than anything, my hand is throbbing. Then when I’m about to get one good hit in, nothing comes out of the can! I’m all sticky and gross, it was just one massive fail.”
Candice was laughing so hard she was snorting, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I would have paid to see that!”
“I’m pretty sure I looked like the abominable snowman on crack. You didn’t miss anything too thrilling.”
“Uh-huh, sure sounds like it.”
“I miss you, Candi. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I know!” I could hear her happy clap through the phone and smiled. “Just a couple weeks and then it’s me and Rachie time!”
“You’re such a nerd.”
A few days after the big blowup Kash and I’d had after the family dinner, he’d surprised me with tickets to Texas for Candice’s graduation, and then to California for the two weeks after. He could only get two weeks of vacation blocked off, so after we spent the remainder of the time with Candice’s family, he was flying Candice back here for the month leading up to the wedding. I’d tackle-hugged him when he told me about everything. He was always doing whatever he could to make sure I was happy, and though I hated that I knew a big part was still because of guilt for what had happened last summer in Austin, I was so in love with him for the gift of time with my pseudo-family.
“I know, I– Oh, hey! Mike just got here, I gotta go.”
“Have fun,” I said in a singsong voice. “Be safe!”
“Always!”
I looked down at Trip licking my ankle after setting my phone on the counter. “Yeah, I bet I taste real good right now.”
Grabbing one of Trip’s treats, I headed toward the bathroom to clean myself from the dessert war. After he was all settled with a toy and treat on the bathroom mat, I stripped out of my clothes and turned the water on as hot as it would go. I washed my hair and body twice to get any lingering stickiness off, and tried not to frown at how differently I’d seen this shower going.
Once I was done and dried off, I let Trip out before going around the house and locking up. From experience over the last few months, I doubted Kash would be home anytime soon. It was close to midnight, so there was no way I could wait up for him. Placing Trip on the bed, I crawled in after him before grabbing my phone.
Just so you know . . . cleaning up from a whipped cream war without you isn’t nearly as fun. See you when you get home. Love you.
I knew better than to wait for a response, he probably wouldn’t get the text until they were done. But I couldn’t help but sit there and stare until my screen went black, wishing for anything from him.
I was proud of him, and I knew he loved what he was doing. But nights when he was gone were really lonely. With a sigh, I turned off my lamp and plugged my phone in to charge before pulling an already snoring Trip close and closing my eyes.
MY EYES FLEW OPEN and my body stilled. I didn’t know if I’d been dreaming or if Kash was home and I’d heard him, but my arms were covered in goose bumps and I held my breath as I waited for another sign of what had woken me. I started to think it was a dream when I didn’t hear anything else, but my body locked up again when I noticed Trip standing at the foot of the bed growling low and as fiercely as a puppy could. Sunlight from the windows was filtering into the bedroom, and I quietly reached behind me for my phone. Kash always texted me when he was on his way home for this exact reason . . . he didn’t want me to freak out if I was asleep.
My text from last night had gone unanswered.
“Trip,” I whispered and sat up, my eyes widening when I saw the ridge of raised hair along his back. “Trip, come—”
A loud boom sounded from the front of the house, and Trip began barking. I froze for all of three seconds before grabbing him and shutting his mouth as I failed miserably at dialing 9-1-1. It shouldn’t be that hard, three numbers and the CALL button, but it took me four tries before I got it. In that time I heard two men talking low in the front of the house as I turned in circles, trying to figure out where to go. Closet? Under the bed? Out the window?
“Tampa Bay, dispatch. Do you need fire—”
“Police! Please send police.” I quickly and quietly spouted off our address as I tried to keep Trip in my arms. “Someone just broke into my house. This is Rachel Masters, my fiancé is Detective Logan Ryan, and he’s out on call right now for a double homicide, and I don’t—”
“Ma’am, ma’am, I need you to calm down and speak slowly. Someone broke into your house? Is he or she in there right now?”
“Yes, I hear at least two males.” I inhaled sharply when I remembered the fake wall in our closet. Thank God for Kash being paranoid!
“Ma’am, are you okay? What just happened?”
“Nothing! Are you sending someone?” I hissed as I quietly ran to the large closet in the master bathroom.
“I dispatched officers as soon as you gave me the address, Miss Masters. Do you have somewhere you can hide?”
“Yes, I’m getting in there now.” My entire body was trembling as I strained to listen for the men. I couldn’t hear anything anymore, but that didn’t mean much. “How far out are they?”
“About eight minutes. Are you in your safe place now?”
“Yes,” I whispered and set Trip down next to me. Please hurry, please God, hurry.
“Can you still hear the men, Miss Masters?”
“No.” All I could hear was my breathing, which sounded disturbingly loud, and the pounding of my heart. Thank God Trip was staying quiet as he huddled back into the corner.
“Okay, well I need you to stay where you are until officers get there, just in case.”
I jumped back into the wall and slid down to a sitting position when a loud crash came from the bedroom, followed by more sounds of furniture being flipped over. My body was vibrating and it took everything in me to keep quiet and keep the phone to my ear. Tears were pricking the back of my eyes, and when Trip softly growled I threw my hand over his nose and mouth, praying he understood my silent plea.
“Miss Masters, are you still there?”
“Y-yes,” my voice so breathy, it was barely audible.
“Is that you making the noise?”
I knew she couldn’t see me but I couldn’t do more than shake my head back and forth as the tears spilled over. I looked in front of me, and my heart skipped painful beats when I saw the edge of the fake wall had caught on one of my shirts. I quietly leaned forward and strained to hear absolutely everything as I reached for the corner of the material.
“Miss Masters? If you can, let me know you’re still with me.”
“I’m here, the—” The faux-wall was thrown back, and a scream tore through my chest as a large man’s frame filled the closet, but I couldn’t make out his face. It was dark in the closet, and with the light coming in from the bathroom behind him, it made a strange halo of light around him while darkening his features.
His hand slammed over my mouth while his other arm reached out for me. I kicked at him, and when both hands went for my foot, I screamed help me and hurry into the phone over and over as he dragged me out of the closet. I dug my nails into the short carpet helplessly as he pulled me into the bedroom and flipped me onto my back. Before I could attempt to kick at him when he let go, he dropped all of his weight onto me and started yelling.
“Bring it now!” he yelled and turned to look toward the center of the bedroom.
Another smaller man came into view, and I tried to scream, but the first man’s hand covered my mouth again as the second handed him a small towel. He brought it toward my face and I tried furiously to turn my head to the side, but it was useless. The cloth was pressed over my nose and mouth, and before I could comprehend the odd smell, the room was blurring.
The last thing I heard before the darkness consumed me was a sincere, “I’m sorry.”
MY EYES SLOWLY CRACKED OPEN to the foreign room, and it took my mind a few minutes to process that I shouldn’t be here—that wherever here was, wasn’t good. I jolted upright and immediately wished I hadn’t as the room tilted to the side and my stomach rolled. Falling toward the side of the mattress in preparation for whatever was about to come up, something caught my shoulders, and I hung there limply as a deep voice spoke softly.
“Whoa, easy, easy, easy. You’re okay. Let’s sit you back up and I’ll get you some water.”
My body hunched over as I dry-heaved against his arms, and he never once moved as my empty stomach tried desperately to get rid of anything. When I quieted, he started pushing me back into a sitting position, and I flew back and away from his arms. The room tilted again, but passing out wasn’t an option, I needed to get out of there. He reached for me when I swayed back, but I used my legs to launch my body in the opposite direction, and off the mattress.
I took off for the door, but my feet hadn’t touched the ground twice before he had his arms wrapped securely around me, holding me to him as I swung and kicked, and screamed for someone to help me.
“Calm down, I won’t hurt you.” He grunted when one of my flailing limbs connected. “Please calm down.”
“Let go of me! Help me! Someone help!”
“I won’t hurt you, but I need you to calm down,” he gritted, and when I kept trying to get away, he continued to stand there holding me to him.
The nausea and dizziness came back quickly, and soon my arms and legs felt like dead weight. I wanted to keep fighting against him, needed to keep fighting against him—but I was losing strength fast. Images of Blake on top of me were flashing through my mind and fear clawed at me. I needed to stay awake, and I needed to get out of here.
“Help . . . me,” I pleaded to the door and scratched against my captor’s arms. For the first time, I agreed with Candice that I should have let my nails grow long. My legs gave out and the captor easily held my weight as he backed us up to the bed and I struggled to get his arms away from me. This couldn’t happen. Not again.
“You ne—” A deep growl worked up his chest when I dropped my head and bit down on his hand as hard as I could. He took a few deep breaths in and out as I futilely attempted to claw my way out of his arms before he spoke again. “I’m not going to hurt you, stop hurting me.”
Tears fell freely down my cheeks the minute he sat down, and he pushed himself back until he was sitting up against the wall, with me still in his arms. I tried calling out for help again—even though I somehow knew that if anyone was on the opposite side of that door, they weren’t going to help me—but nothing came out.
There was no fight left in me. There was nothing but the purest form of terror. I’d faced Blake, but I’d been prepared for some of his crazy and I’d known him most my life. I didn’t know the man keeping my body still against his, I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know what I was up against . . . and I didn’t know if I would ever see Kash again.
That thought broke me and my body sagged under the stranger’s firm hold as tears alternated hitting his arms and falling onto my bare legs.
“Please,” I forced out and tried once more to remove his arms. They didn’t move, and he didn’t respond for countless minutes as the dizziness and weariness won out.
My eyes shut against their own will, and like back home, the last thing I heard was his voice. “I’m sorry.”
5
Kash
“YOU GOOD?” I asked Mason as we headed back toward the elevators.
He shrugged and punched at the buttons on the wall. “There’s only so much you can do to get them to go in a different direction. He wanted to follow his brother.”
The call from last night ended up being a drive-by involving a newer gang that we’d come across recently, and one of the two victims had been L’il Tay, a thirteen-year-old who Mason had been trying to get off the streets over the last few months. And though Mason was acting like this was just another case, I knew this was harder for him than the rest.
Knowing there was nothing I could say, I clapped his shoulder and let him be alone with his thoughts. Grabbing my phone, I smiled when I was finally able to open Rachel’s text from last night.
SOUR PATCH:
Just so you know . . . cleaning up from a whipped cream war without you isn’t nearly as fun. See you when you get home. Love you.
We just finished up, be home soon babe. Love you too.
The doors to the elevator opened and we stepped in. As they were closing, someone started yelling my name from down the hall, and Mason caught the door just in time.
“Ryan! Gates!” Sergeant Ramirez ran toward us, and as soon as he was in the elevator he started pounding on the CLOSE DOORS button.
I suppressed a groan. All I wanted to do was get home to Rachel and Trip.
“We already have three units at the scene, and I’ll be following you there.”
Ramirez was a K-9 unit, why were they wanting his dog, Crush, there . . . and what scene? “Wha—”
“I know you’re anxious to get there, but you know we’re doing everything we can for this.” The elevator was already moving, but Ramirez kept stabbing at the ground-level button. “How are you holding up? You look really calm, are you in shock? Maybe you should let Gates drive.”
That seemed to snap Mason out of his thoughts. His hand jerked away from his mouth and his eyes widened. “Why would I need to drive?”
“And why would I be in shock?” My heart started racing as Ramirez started hitting the OPEN DOORS button.
Ramirez shot us a strained, sympathetic look before ushering us out to the underground parking lot. “You weren’t informed?”
“Of what?” I was supposed to be the one in shock. So it had something to do with me. Everyone close to me starting flipping through my mind until a sinking feeling hit my chest and stomach. Oh God . . . Rachel. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry, I thought someone already told you, you were supposed to be informed already,” he mumbled to himself as he kept walking toward the lot. “Look, I’m sorry I’m the one that has to tell you this.” He stopped walking abruptly and turned to look at me. His expression was one I had seen so many times, and had even had to use myself. It felt like time slowed as I waited for him to tell me one of fifty scenarios that were speeding through my mind. “A call came in to dispatch about an hour ago. It was your fiancée, Ryan. The only thing that came from her end of the call was her saying her name, someone had broken in—”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I took off running for my truck and had just gotten to the driver’s door when Mason slammed me into the side and ripped the keys from my hand. After barking at me to get in the passenger seat, he fired up the engine and peeled out of the lot.
“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening, Mase, tell me this isn’t fucking happening!”
“Kash—”
“Damn it!” I roared and punched at the dashboard. “I don’t even know if she’s okay, Mason! What was Ramirez saying, did he say if she’s okay? Is she– Oh God. Rach, baby, please be alive,” I whispered and slumped into my seat, raking my hands over my face.
I heard Mason on the phone calling into dispatch and asking questions about what had happened, but I couldn’t focus on his exact words or the muffled response coming from the dispatcher. I just kept praying over and over again that she was okay. I could deal with our place being broken into. I could replace all that. But I couldn’t replace Rachel.
Mason nudged my arm and I snapped my head to the left to look at him. “Sorry, you weren’t responding. They don’t know if she’s alive, but there’s no blood. So just focus on that, Kash.”
“W-what? No . . . What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. “From what units at the scene—uh, your place—are saying, whoever broke in . . . they uh, they took Rachel.”
Mason was saying something else, but I couldn’t hear anything past the blood rushing through my ears. When we got to the house, the front door was hanging like it had been kicked in, but the rest of the front looked completely normal. Save for the dozens of officers and detectives that were walking in and out of it. Remembering the faux-wall in the closet, I prayed like hell that Rachel was using it and took off for the large closet in the bathroom.
When I flipped on the light in the closet, dread filled me when I saw the drag marks on the carpet. I called one of the officers that had been taking pictures of the bedroom to get a few pictures of the carpet before I walked in, and all hope left me when all I found behind that wall was our puppy. I grabbed him and pulled him into my chest as I fell back against the wall, and the tears that had been threatening started spilling over.
“Kash, you need to see this,” Mason said softly from the doorway to the closet. I looked over at him, rolled to my knees, and stood. “Give me Trip. Go into the bedroom and look at the wall. We’ll find her, okay? I swear to you we’ll find her.”
I handed him the golden retriever and rushed into the bedroom, which looked like a hurricane had hit it. My eyes widened when they finally landed on the wall opposite our bed. A roar filled the room, and before I could realize it came from me, two officers were holding me back and trying to get me to sit down on the bed.
On the wall in red spray paint were the words DID YOU THINK WE WOULD FORGET? Underneath was a symbol. One both Mason and I’d had tattooed on our left forearms during our last undercover narcotics assignment with Juarez’s gang.
“How?” Mason was asking a detective who was in the room with us. And that was a damn good question. Juarez had put a hit on Mase and me before we could take down his gang, but it had died when the guys hired were thrown in prison for another murder. And I knew for a fact Juarez and his boys were all in prison. “Recruiting people from the inside who got out? Or just using people he trusts? Set up questioning with each of them separately.”
I looked up when Detective Byson’s cell rang. His mouth snapped shut from answering Mason, and he answered the call. “Byson.” His eyes shot over to me and a grim look crossed his face as he listened. “Mmhm . . . Yeah. Set up something with Juarez and his attorney immediately. I’m on my way.” He turned to face me and slid his phone back in the holder on his belt. “Rachel is alive.”
“Thank God,” I breathed and tried to stand, but the officers were still holding me there.
“A call was placed about fifteen minutes ago, demanding that every charge against Juarez’s gang be dropped. Before the dispatcher could ask anything, the caller said they would call back in two days and expect progress on the charges being dropped, and would continue to call every two days until every member of the gang was released. If there isn’t progress, there will be consequences, and if they aren’t released within the month . . . she dies.”
“Kash, Kash, Kash, calm down. Come on, man. Calm down. I know.”
Mason gripped my shoulders and I tried to focus on him. The other two officers were now struggling to keep me down as I thrashed against them. Where I was going to go when I got away from them, I didn’t know, I just needed to go. They had my girl. I needed to find out who they were, and I needed to get her back.
“I know this is hard. But we’ll find her. I swear.” Mason looked just as panicked as I felt, and it was then I noticed the wetness in his eyes he was trying to keep back.
When I finally stopped struggling, the officers let me go at Mason’s request, but he kept me seated on the bed. “I need to get her back, Mason. I have to.”
“We will.”
“I’ll do anything.”
A determined look settled over his face and he whispered low enough that only I could hear him. “Anything to bring the fuckers down, right?”
I slammed my fist against his and swore, “Always.”
I WALKED INTO MASON’S APARTMENT that evening with a bag slung over one shoulder and Trip in my arms. Our bedroom was still being considered a crime scene, and I was asked to stay out of it for the night as they processed more and continued to take fingerprints. Not that I thought I would be able to stay there even after they were done anyway, without Rachel . . . I didn’t know how I would handle being there.
After dropping the bag in the room I’d occupied for years when Mason and I’d shared an apartment, I fell heavily onto the bed and kept Trip secured tightly to my chest as I stared at nothing.
A fear unlike anything I’d ever known had coursed through my body the moment I’d realized Rachel was at a murderer’s home last fall, and that I’d let her walk away with him. When the call between us had been dropped after I’d heard her scream, I hadn’t even let myself believe I wouldn’t find her and bring her back alive.
But the fear I’d experienced that early morning could never be compared to the fear that had been crippling me all day. At least when she was with Blake, I’d had an underlying knowledge of what Blake was capable of. Now, though, I didn’t know who had her, what they were doing to her, and what they could do. I just knew what they’d threatened to do.
For close to ten hours, a handful of detectives had questioned every member of Juarez’s gang, the two men hired to kill Mason and me last year, and family members as well. No one was talking, and the only living extended family of Juarez and his boys that we could track down had either turned their backs on the members of the gang, or were afraid of them. I hadn’t been allowed in for any of the interviews, since I was too close to the case—again—so I’d spent hours seeing if anyone on the street had heard anything, and looking for Rachel’s cell phone, which we’d later found ten miles away from the house in a trash can at a gas station. A gas station whose indoor and outdoor cameras just happened to be down.
There’d been nothing to go off of from the anonymous call placed regarding their demands and threats for Rachel’s safety, and although they said they’d call back every two days, I’d hoped like hell they would’ve called back again. But there was nothing. We had leads that weren’t talking, and didn’t have a reason to talk, and nothing else.
And my girl was gone.
Pain seared my chest and I prayed to God that he would keep her safe. He could do whatever he wanted with me . . . as long as she came back alive.
There was a shuffling near the other side of the room, and I looked over to see Mason standing in the doorway.
“How are you holding up?”
I sucked hard on my lip ring when my chin started shaking, and looked back to the wall. How the hell does he think I’m holding up? Rachel’s gone and probably being tortured, and I can’t do anything!
“We’ll find her, Kash.”
Unable to speak yet without breaking down, I nodded my head hard, once. We have to find her, and we have to do it tomorrow. I didn’t care if they’d given her a month to live or not. They also said there would be consequences if there wasn’t progress in two days, and I wasn’t willing to let her find out what those consequences were. Seeing how the possibility of giving the takers what they wanted was slim, finding her was the only other option.
“I love her too, I’ll do anything to get her back.”
“Do you mean that?” I choked out when he turned to leave.
