Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
His phone rang, jolting through him like a cattle prod.
“What? Shit.” He sat straight up, blinking and whipping his head in every direction. Darkness surrounded him.
Where the fuck am I?
His heart raced faster than a spray of bullets leaving an automatic weapon.
The phone kept ringing.
Finally, the moon and stars overhead registered. The day’s events came rushing back to him in a barrage of pain and frustration.
His phone rang again.
Liam.
Shit, he’d passed out. Liam was probably out of his mind with worry.
Tate grabbed the phone and hit the answer button. “Liam?” He shouted into the receiver.
“Tate, get out. You have to get the fuck out of there!”
He blinked. “What?” He yanked the phone from his ear and stared at the caller ID before returning the phone to his ear. “Randy?”
“Tate, don’t ask questions. Just listen to me. Get out. Now!”
“Randy, what are you talking about? I’m outside. I’m at the creek.”
Silence greeted him for a beat, and then, “Is Liam with you?”
He gripped the phone so hard his knuckles ached. “No. Randy, what the fuck is going on?”
“Shit, you gotta call him, T. Call him now. It’s Ducky.”
He hung up without waiting for more and hopped to his feet. He rushed to the truck while calling Liam. The phone rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. “Luxe, it’s me. Call me back as soon as you get this.” He ended the call and fired a quick text to Liam.
911. GET OUT.
Then he called Randy back, hitting the speaker button so he could drive.
“You get him? Is he out?”
“He didn’t answer. Randy, tell me what the fuck is going on.” His tires spun on the soft earth as he slammed down on the gas pedal, but a second later, it lurched forward.
“Ducky’s gone fucking crazy. He was here tonight when we had a bonfire, ranting and raving about cleansing the town and shit. Think he was on PCP or some shit. I’m telling you, man, he was out of his mind.”
“Get to the fucking point, Randy.”
He took a turn fast enough to lift the wheels on one side. If he kept up the pace, he could make it to Liam in fifteen minutes. Too fucking long.
“He’s planning something. I don’t know what. He kept saying he refused to live in a town with fa… uh, gay guys, and it was time to do something about it. Said the problem would be gone by the end of the night. Then he took off. Don’t know what he’s planning, but if he doesn’t slam headfirst into a power pole, I think he’s going after Liam.”
“Shit, shit, shit. I’m too fucking far away.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Fear was so strong it nearly choked him.
“I’ll go. I’m getting in the car right now.”
Between the heavy pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears, he must have heard wrong. “Randy…”
“I’m fucking sorry, T. I know that don’t fix shit, but until that day I always had your back. Trust me to have it now.”
What choice did he have?
“Get him, Randy. Whatever the fuck you have to do. Keep him safe. If something happens to him, I’ll…” He couldn’t even finish the thought.
“Keep calling. Maybe you’ll get him. I’m on my way.”
“Call me if—”
The line went dead.
“Dammit!” He roared as he threw the phone on the seat with so much force it bounced onto the floor.
He’d never felt like this before. Like he would tear his own skin off if it would get him there faster. Like the panic and fear could drive him literally insane.
He drove as fast as possible, slapping the dashboard as though it could give the truck more horsepower.
Rows and rows of corn whizzed by outside in a seemingly never-ending trail of terror.
He could have prevented this.
If he’d gone after Ducky as he’d intended, he could have prevented whatever horror he was about to unleash.
If something happened to Liam, if he was hurt in any way, he wouldn’t have to go after Ducky. He could place that blame right on himself.
He slammed on the brakes, cursing himself for tossing the phone. After wasting precious seconds rifling around the dark floorboard, he finally located it. With one eye paying attention to the road, he called Liam again as he floored the gas pedal.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hey, it’s Liam. Sorry I missed you. I’m probably teaching, so leave me a message…”
He forced even more pressure on the gas pedal.
Hold on, Luxe. God, please don’t let anything happen to him.
He’d never prayed a day in his life, but he’d pledge his life and loyalty to anyone who’d keep Liam safe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LIAM CHECKED HIS phone for the hundredth time since Tate drove away.
Nothing.
Not a text, not a call, not even a notification.
Maybe the cell towers are out.
“And maybe you’ll sprout wings in your sleep,” he mumbled as he walked into his apartment. It’d been a very long day. He barely managed to get the window cleaned in time for his class. The kids complained about a gross smell in the studio, but it faded as the day went on. Somehow, he’d made it through all his classes without breaking down, but the odds of keeping it together weren’t looking good anymore.