Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
No.
No, you can’t afford to get emotional now.
Long dormant instincts from half a lifetime ago in uniform leap up and bite me in the ass.
You never forget.
Never, never, and not when it’s more than your life on the line.
I swear, if I make it in time—if God is that kind—if I’m angry and cruel enough to keep her safe, if I have my chance to dismember the snake threatening her, I’ll never hesitate again.
I’ll never hold back.
I’ll never let Margot Blackthorn out of my sight without her knowing she’s madly and truly loved.
It takes an eternity, but eventually I’m squealing down the road to the lake, my wipers slashing hopelessly at the rain.
Instead of rocketing up the driveway, I park by the side of the road at the end. I reach into the back seat for a loose hammer on the floor I used on the dock.
Not a good weapon, but for now I’ll have to improvise.
The rain smacks me in the face, soaking me as I prowl to the front door.
My eyes slowly adjust from the glare of my headlights, and I maneuver carefully.
Someone’s still in there with Margot.
They sure as hell won’t leave here alive if they’ve hurt her.
A few lights in the house are on, blazing against the dull night, mostly upstairs.
No sign of anyone near the windows.
The curtains are open, and I can see from this angle that her bedroom window is cracked, though there’s no light inside.
Moving through the gloom, I approach the porch from the side. Gnarled bushes scrape my pants.
I see the front door cracked open and a lamp on, though from this angle, I can’t see inside.
My gut knots.
Margot would never leave the front door open, especially in this situation.
I stop to listen, holding my breath. I can’t make out anything besides rain hammering the house.
I need to get closer, dammit.
Wind whips around the house as I stalk across the porch, keeping out of view and—
Fuck, that’s a smear of blood.
Like dark ink against the light wood, already being washed away by the rain.
A shadow moves in front of me, all slow, halting motion and a low curse.
I’m on them before I can make out who.
Joseph Babin, I realize a second later.
He’s staggering along the porch like he’s been thrashed within an inch of his life.
A second later, I have his collar in my fist and I’ve hurled him against the house. In the near darkness, I can just see the bleary whites of his eyes.
“W-wait,” he says hoarsely, scratching at my wrist. “Wait!”
“Fuck you.” I push my face close to his. “What the hell are you doing here? Where is she?”
His breath smells foul. I don’t bother hiding my disgust.
He looks like he’s about to piss himself.
I hope he’s scared for his pathetic life. It’s very much hanging in the balance right now, depending on what he says next.
“It… it wasn’t me,” he gurgles. His fingers shake weakly as he tries to free his wrist. “I didn’t do it. Please, you have to—”
“Why are you here, asshole? Where’s Margot? Tell me!” I shake him like a piñata.
He turns his head slightly, and I see the bloody gash at the back, like someone smacked him with blunt force.
Relief washes through me.
If he was damn near crawling across the porch, that means the blood I saw is his, not Margot’s.
“I don’t know,” he babbles. “I’m telling you, I-I… I didn’t do anything.”
“Did she do that? Did Margot hit you?” I glare at him, and when he doesn’t answer, I shake him again. “Fucking talk!”
“Wha—no! No, she never saw me. It was the other man.”
“What man?” I growl.
He shakes his head again, mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish out of water.
Goddamn.
The rain pounds on, spraying his face, but I don’t give a flying fuck about his comfort.
I want answers to the only question that matters.
And if he’s here at all, it can’t mean anything good. I’m sure his evil sneak of a wife will be slinking around here somewhere, too.
But that’s not what concerns me most—what other fucking man is he talking about?
The man who left the note?
The man who wanted Margot and the kids gone?
I rear back and power-slam Joseph into the wall again until his head bounces.
“Where is she?” I bite off. “You have five seconds. Then you’ll wish I wasn’t carrying this hammer.”
“That man, he’s got her!” he snarls. Fear flickers in his eyes now, his face hollowed out like a jack-o’-lantern past its prime. “Storm cellar, I think. Last place I saw them.”
Fuck me.
Without a second glance, I toss him on the porch face-first and go sprinting through the sleeting rain, rocketing toward that ominous hole in the ground.
23
HOMESICK (MARGOT)
Twenty Minutes Earlier
Ithink my kidnapper might be the dumbest man alive for thinking I’d go out easy.
The second Lee grabs me, my fight instinct wakes up.