Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“Want a clean one?” Fury asks, motioning down my front. There’s not a thread of material on the apron not splattered with oil, tomato, or grease. The state of me defies the now semi-gleaming kitchen. I quickly untie it and run to the laundry room, shoving it in the washer, and as I’m returning to the kitchen, I hear . . . Doc?
My heart naturally picks up pace and Fury is up out of his seat in a second, stalking to the entrance hall.
“Some help, please,” the old man yells, spotting Fury and gesturing him urgently to join him outside.
“What’s happened?” I ask, following them. I see Len opening the back door, and I see Beau on the back seat with Brad’s head on her lap. My hands cover my mouth. “Oh my God.”
“He’s taken a bullet to the shoulder,” Beau calls, inching her way out, holding Brad’s head as Fury stomps over, his face grave, and helps Len ease Brad out of the car. I catch sight of his shoulder. Blood.
Beau comes to me and instantly starts trying to reassure me, which only worries me more. “The men found where the Polish hold the women they ship in,” she says, looking so fucking sympathetic.
“Where?”
“Danny’s old boatyard.”
“What? Winstable?” My God. “He sold it to developers,” I say, watching Fury carrying Brad into the house, Doc following. “They were building a facility for underprivileged kids.” Danny will be seething. He’d only relinquished it for a noble cause. To know he was deceived? As if my husband needs any more excuses to go on a rampage. This will tip him over the edge.
Beau takes my hand and leads my stunned form back toward the house. “The men went in and got the women out.”
My body is instantly cold. “How many?” I ask quietly, trying not to allow any flashbacks to take hold.
“Ten,” she says, leading me up the stairs behind Fury, who’s carrying Brad like he’s a small child. Effortlessly. “They were all drugged.”
I swallow, walking on numb legs, my hand naturally falling on my belly, thinking how different my life could have been if I was never taken. No. I wouldn’t have Daniel. Danny wouldn’t have found me. I have to believe that every bit of hell I endured was worth the distress, heartache, and pain.
Focus on Brad.
I nod and disconnect my hand from Beau’s, picking up my pace and entering the bedroom Fury’s taken Brad into. “Can I help?” I ask Doc, who gets straight to work, hooking the half-empty bag of fluids onto the headboard.
“I need my IV stand,” Doc says. “In my room. In the fridge you’ll find various bags of blood. I need the one marked O positive.”
“What?” I blurt. He keeps blood? I look at Beau, who looks equally surprised by this. “You know all of our blood types, don’t you?” I recall now, Doc requesting Daniel’s a few weeks ago in St. Lucia, and I thought it a bit random. I didn’t have the foggiest idea what blood type my son is and thought no more of it. I make a mental note to make that a priority.
“Indeed, I do,” Doc replies, injecting something into Brad’s line. “Nice and quick, please.”
“I’ll go,” Fury says, leaving the room to fetch Doc’s requests.
“Will he be okay?” I ask, crouching beside Brad, looking over his pasty skin, his hollow cheeks.
“Just as soon as we’ve topped up his veins.”
I nod and look back when Beau touches my shoulder. “We should prepare for the arrivals.”
I’m blank. Then— “They’re bringing the women here?” I stand, stunned, and Beau nods, just as I hear more wheels across the gravel. “Oh God,” I whisper, feeling wholly unstable. Thinking about ten women drugged and mistreated is one thing. Seeing them is another.
“You've got this,” Beau says, leading me out of the room. And there she is, doing what we both do best. Reassuring each other, talking sense, but struggling to do that for ourselves.
We approach Fury, who’s holding a bag of blood at arm’s length while dragging along a metal stand. “Coming through,” he says, as we move to the side of the corridor, letting him pass. My eyes follow him all the way to the door and through it.
“Where are James and Danny?” I ask Beau without looking at her.
“Come on,” she says gently, not answering me, coaxing me away. “What can I smell?”
“You won’t want to eat it.”
“Smells good.”
“Well, it looks atrocious. Have you heard from Ollie yet?” I ask, diverting from my own trauma, if only briefly.
“Nothing. I’ve reached out a few times, but he’s not answering. And it’s not like I’m being given any space to visit him, is it?”
We both know Beau could break away if she wanted to, which tells me she’s nervous to do that, and not because of her safety. It’s because she’s scared of what she’ll find out. “And the detective?”