Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
The room erupted in cheers as the Seahawks scored another touchdown. It was a rare treat for them to play on Thanksgiving, and Xander was grateful. Because watching football with Freya’s brothers was a whole hell of a lot better than sitting around a formal dining table answering their questions.
“Touchdown tosses!” Finn shouted.
Josie ran toward him with her arms outstretched, and he tossed her into the air as Oscar and Jasper counted aloud to six.
“Me too, me too!” Andie squealed, waving her hands above her head.
Finn repeated the tosses with his other niece and then dramatically collapsed on the carpet.
“Soon you rascals will be too big to toss into the air!” He glanced at Xander, and a wicked gleam lit his eyes.
“You know what, girls?” He sat up and pulled them both onto his lap.
“Xander looks like a big guy. I bet he can get you pretty high. How about he does the next touchdown toss?”
The girls cheered, and Xander chuckled.
Okay, fine. Freya’s brothers were good guys. Well . . . He internally cringed. Axel was a bit much. If the man just toned down the asshole bit, he’d be a little more bearable. Maybe.
Speaking of . . .
“Are Frey and your brother still outside?”
Oscar shrugged. “Probably. Maybe Freya’s reaming his as—er, butt”—his gaze shot to the girls who were lying on the carpet with Finn—“for being such a douche.”
He frowned. They’d been gone a long time. At least fifteen minutes.
He rose from the couch, a knot of worry growing in his belly. “I’m just gonna go and check on them—”
The door to the garage swung open with a bang. Axel stumbled inside, his front covered in snow, blood pouring down the side of his face. For a split second, he swayed, and then his knees buckled.
Xander’s insides turned to ice, and he sprinted forward, grunting when he caught the guy. “Finn!” he called out before setting Axel down on the floor. “Look at me, man. Where’s Freya?”
He held his breath as Axel shook his head, his eyes unfocused.
“Move over,” Finn said, nudging Xander to the side. While he tended to his brother, he called out, “Jasper, get the girls upstairs. Os, call 911.”
“Fuck!” Xander bolted out the garage door.
He stepped onto the driveway, he noticed footprints leading to the side of the house and then around back. It took everything he had to not run to the back of the house. He had to think, had to be careful of where he stepped.
Dread and anger pumped through his veins as he reached the back of the house.
Nothing.
No Freya.
The snow was disturbed. There was a large patch flattened where Axel must have fallen. He spotted blood staining the pristine snow, and his stomach twisted. Was it Axel’s or Freya’s?
His fists clenched. Focus, Bonetti. Assess first, then act. Blowing out a breath, he scanned the area.
His eyes narrowed when he saw another set of footprints in the snow, along with dark drops of blood. They led from the back of the house to the street. To an empty space that was void of snow, minus a new dusting that was trying to stick. It was where the car that had taken Freya had sat.
The sound of sirens wailed in the distance.
With trembling hands, he yanked out his phone.
He quickly took photos of the footprints and blood splatters.
Careful to retrace his earlier steps, he made his way to the sidewalk and took photos of the tire treads in the snow.
Within seconds, he’d sent all the photos to his team, then he dialed Frazier.
The phone rang once. “Talk to me, brother.”
“Someone’s got her, man.” A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed past it. “Someone fucking took her.”