Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Something shiny catches my eye, and I ease over to inspect. Rowan’s birthstone ring loops over a small Swiss army knife.
My chest seizes and body hums as the realization washes over me.
This is Talon’s knife.
He keeps it on him at all times.
Talon was here.
I left him at Hayes Security two hours ago. He’s on shift tonight.
Something had to have brought him home.
I retrace my steps out of the room, gun raised, and search the rest of the house. Nothing else is out of place, but Talon’s truck is gone.
Think, Whitman…
I comb through my brain, coming up with different scenarios. What the fuck is going on?
Rowan was definitely here with Talon. There was a fight…
Fuck me!
I race to the back yard, the motion lights flooding the area.
A body lies a few feet from the door. The man is beaten and bloody but still breathing. I scan the pool, relieved no bodies are floating.
Something pink lies under the man’s thigh.
Rowan’s beanie.
She was wearing it when she left this morning.
“Where the fuck are they?” I scream at the unconscious man.
Both their phones go to voicemail without ringing.
I run back to the laptop, pulling up the security system footage.
Rowan drives around the house over an hour ago.
Ten minutes later, Talon’s truck drives by our street, turning into the next cul-de-sac.
Then nothing.
I speed through the next fifteen minutes with no activity.
Not one car passes, coming or going.
We’re near the back of the community, but there is still a steady stream of traffic.
No cars, pedestrians, wind in the trees—absolutely no movement. They jammed the system signal.
“Goddammit!”
An incoming text chirps from an unknown number.
I have something that belongs to you. If you want them back alive, pay close attention.
Get in your truck and drive.
Alone & Unarmed.
Contact no one.
Leave your phone.
Your house and phone are being monitored.
Play this smart, Mr. Whitman.
It would be a shame for Mr. Powers and Mr. Kingston’s children to grow up without their fathers.
How this plays out is up to you.
An attachment pops up.
Fury clouds my vision at the sight of Talon’s beaten body slumped back in a chair. He’s tied down, his shirt torn open to expose gaping wounds.
The next attachment is Rowan sitting alone in a room. Her face is a mask of fear and anger, but thankfully not touched.
The screen goes blank; the message is gone.
It would be a shame for Mr. Powers and Mr. Kingston’s children to grow up without their fathers.
Levi and Koby… And soon-to-be-baby Kingston.
Ace told us this morning about Harley’s pregnancy. No one else knows yet until after their appointment.
He was beyond fucking excited.
Whoever took Talon and Rowan knows way too much. Which means it’s personal.
The four of us…
Rage takes over, pulling me deeper into the dark place only few have witnessed. Years of training and experience kick in.
I leave my gun on the desk by the laptop and grab a dry erase marker.
Next, I go to my bathroom and add two marks with the lipstick, then scribble a note on the mirror, adding today’s date.
Love yourself no matter what
To most, this may appear a daily affirmation. To my men, it means something entirely different.
I change my watch, leaving the Rolex next to the sink.
If my phone is being monitored, there’s only one way to get a message out. I log in to Rendezvous’ security app and send the silent warning.
It’s been years since the man in the mirror has stared back at me.
Dark.
Cold.
Brutal.
I walk to my truck with two missions.
Save my brother and woman.
Then kill these fuckers.
34
ROWAN
Heavy footfalls come from behind the door. I crouch in the corner, hoping they pass. The lock clicks and the door opens followed by a loud thud.
“Maybe Mr. Whitman will be more cooperative.” The accent is similar to the man from the storage unit who abducted me.
“Fuck you!”
My heart picks up speed, recognizing Talon’s voice.
The door slams, footsteps fading away.
“Talon?”
“Yeah, Hollywood. You okay?”
“Are you okay?”
“Been better. Cover your ears.”
“Wh—” Before I can finish, there’s a sickening pop followed by a deafening shout.
“MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!”
The agony in his cry sends an icy prickle over every inch of flesh.
“Talon, what did they do to you?” Tears stream down my cheeks.
“Fucker dislocated my shoulder.”
I scramble on my hands and knees, trying to find him in the dark room, using his heavy breathing as my navigation.
“Easy,” he warns when my hand lands on his thigh.
The sickly scent of blood fills my nostrils, and I swallow the bile rising.
“Can I come closer?”
“Yeah, babe. You still wearing that scarf?”
I unwrap the material from my neck and feel around for his hand. “Here.”
“Need your help.”
I scoot closer, gently feeling my way up his abdomen and chest. My stomach rolls when sticky liquid coats my hand.
Get over it, Rowan. He needs you.
“What can I do?”
“We need to stabilize my other arm.”
“Why?”
“It’s broken.”
I can’t contain the squalling whimper that escapes. “Oh, Talon, what did they do to you?”