Chapter 27 #2
“I swear,” he grunts. “Not until recently. He—”
SMACK. I hit him again. “He told me he’s working an angle. I wasn’t to reveal who he is.”
Panting, I freeze, wrenching myself free from our tangled limbs. Chest heaving, I wipe the blood from the gash on my cheek. Why didn’t I press her about the poem message? I should’ve … I failed her.
Brent pushes himself up, spitting his blood into the mangled grass.
The roar in my ears slows, and Max’s growling bark rings behind the door.
I blink and tug at his shirt, pulling his sweaty face into mine. “What is he doing here? Is he here for her?”
He looks past me toward the house, and I shake him. “Answer me!”
A tree groans in the breeze, and he smiles, blood seeping through the cracks between his half-rotted teeth. “Let’s just say he isn’t leaving without her.”
Everything comes to a screeching halt, and I stumble back. The hill is suddenly steeper and my chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath.
Lily.
My world tilts, and I shove Brent back, turning to run to the house. I need my keys and Max.
Crap. Lily.
She doesn’t know. The man who took so much from her life is here. Not only here, but here with a plan for her, and for this town.
How did he find her? Brent didn’t know who she was.
I think of the time in the hospital when we called back to Ruin after rescuing Lily—damn it. He found her when we called. I did this to her …
I bolt through the door, not bothering to glance to see if Brent has made a run for it. His voice echoes in the background, as if he’s on the phone, but it grows quieter, and I assume he’s taken off down the hill.
Max sprints after me as I run around the house, grabbing my keys off the kitchen counter. The pill container, still full of my mom’s prescription medication, slides off to crash to the floor. The top pops off and the mismatched colored pills spill out.
“Aus,” I tell Max, and he ignores them, heeling at my side instead.
We push through the door, and I race down the hill to my truck. Scrambling, I tug at the driver’s side door handle, not bothering to open the back for Max. Luckily, he knows. When we’re in a hurry for an emergency, he’s used to piling into the front with me.
A storm brews far off in the distance, the low grumbling of thunder cracking beyond the hill, and I click on my lights as the saturated gray clouds shut out the sunlight.
This man. This Raven. How can the man set on expanding his drug network here be the man connected to Lily?
I grip the steering wheel and throw the truck into drive, whipping out into the road from the driveway. Pedal to the floor, I clench my jaw and lift my ass off the seat to grab for my phone. I dial Lily’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
He hasn’t bothered her since he’s been here, right?
She’s been working late all week and has been fine.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so worried about her immediate safety.
I’ll get to her, tell her, and take her home with me, never let her go anywhere alone again.
Yes. That’s it. I’ll make her take me with her.
Then I think of the note. Miss me? How could I’ve been so careless to ignore it! I should’ve told her about Brent, his proposition, my past—all of it.
Damn it!
I press down on the gas pedal harder.
The worst part will be the emotional toll this information takes on her. But not telling her when—according to Brent—Bran has plans for her would be even worse.
The shadows from the imposing trees lining the road darken across the asphalt.
Faster, faster, faster, I chide myself. Get to Lily.
I can’t lose her, too.
When the diner comes into view, I ignore the parking lot and slam into park, half my truck up on the curb. Jumping out, I run toward the front door, but someone saying my name stops me.
It’s not the raspy voice laced with hidden sarcasm I seek. No, this voice is demanding and therefore instantly irritating.
“Noah,” he says again, and when I look up, Paul approaches. “Leave it alone, Noah. This is bigger than you.”
“I’m getting really fed up with people telling me that. What the hell is your problem, Paul? Be the damn sheriff.”
“He’s too powerful. Backed by the cartel, telling him to get out of our town is almost laughable.”
I glance toward the door, stepping back in that direction. “I could give two shits about his resume. I need to find Lily.”
When I turn to ignore him, his hand pinches my shoulder. “I can’t let you do that.”
I snarl. “You, too? Under his damn thumb? You’re supposed to protect and serve.”
Lily was right about him. How she knew I don’t know, but hell, I’m starting to hate law enforcement, too. Is everyone corrupt? Looking out for their own agenda.
He steps forward, reaching for me.
“I will take you out before you keep me from going in there, Paul. Don’t be stupid.”
In one fluid motion, he draws his gun—barrel aimed straight at my face. “Let her go, Noah. As an old friend. He’s going to have her. She’s his.”
There’s no time for fear, no space for second-guessing what I’m about to do.
I move. Fast. Pure training kicking in.
My hand snaps up, slamming into his wrist, and forcing the gun upward.
A shot cracks in the air, and several screams from unseen people across the street echo along the building facade.
Driving my other hand into his elbow, I force it the wrong way.
He grunts, stumbling back, but I’m already twisting his wrist, and gun bucks free.
I catch it before it hits the ground, and for a split second, he stares at me. His gaze flicks to the gun and then to me, eyes wide.
I bat away the devil on my shoulder, whispering to pull the trigger.
I exhale slowly, steadying my aim. “She isn’t anyone’s.”
Sirens scream in the distance, and I gesture with the gun toward the sidewalk.
Paul knows the drill, and he kneels, hands up behind his head.
“All the way down. On your stomach.”
The screeching of police sirens gets closer, and I barely wait for his stomach to contact the pavement before I take off for the diner.
“You’re making a mistake!” he yells.
The bell above the door jangles as I shove it open, the sound too cheery for the way my heart slams against my ribs. Something deep-fried and burned lingers in the warm air, mingling with the thick scent of grilled burgers and buttered toast.
Several sets of eyes pin me when I walk in the door, some people scramble over each other at the diner windows, frantic. Others smoosh down into their booths, eyes wide with the way I’ve blown in here. The thought is fleeting as I make a sweep through the diner, searching.
When I can’t instantly put eyes on Lily, I weave toward the back.
A waitress, balancing too many plates on her arm, walks through the swinging door, and glances up. It’s Hannah, who typically works the same shifts with Lily. “Noah?”
My breath is uneven, my voice raw. “I’m looking for Lily. Is she—” I swallow.
There’s a clattering of silverware and Hannah says, “Think she went on break. Is everything okay? What’s going on?”
Ignoring the low twangy drone of the radio, I push through the door into the kitchen. My boots scuff against the linoleum while my pulse roars when I don’t spot her.
Mitch rounds the corner, his face falling when he sees me.
“Lily?”
He shrugs, but gestures with a thumb over his shoulder. “Went out back for break I think.”
I jog toward the back door, avoiding the looks from the kitchen staff, and push through.
The moment I spot her car without her in it, my stomach drops.
It’s parked at an awkward angle. The driver’s side door is cracked open just enough for the dome light to spill out and blend with the fading shadows of dusk that stretch over the cracked pavement.
As I quicken my pace, it all feels wrong.
Then I see it.
Her bag.
That old hiking backpack she carts around with her everywhere.
The contents are scattered haphazardly across the asphalt—her phone face-up and shattered, ChapStick rolling back and forth in the stormy wind, her notebook sprawled out, the pages wrinkled and crushed under her keys.
Loose change glints under the body of her car, tiny specks sprinkled on the dark pavement.
Lily.
I crouch down, hands shaking as I pick up her journal, tucking the damaged pages back inside and shutting the book, only to cradle it to my chest. “Lil?” My voice barely carries over the muggy night air.
The sirens on Main Street come faster, and I know I need to get out of here. Before Paul has his backup.
A chill slithers down my spine, and my mind races, throwing possibilities at me faster than I can shove them away. I turn in a circle, scanning the dimming area.
She was here. A minute, maybe ten, ago.
I sweep the parking lot.
Tire tracks—faint but undeniable.
It could be anyone, I think to myself. But what choice do I have other than to assume?
They start near where her car is parked and arc sharply toward the back road out of here.
The tracks are dark, the way they get when someone slams the gas instead of easing out.
A cold knot tightens in my gut.
I follow them with my eyes, tracing their path until they vanish.
Then I run to my truck.