28. Blake
28
BLAKE
The moment I turn up, Stricklin’s establishing his stipulations. No weapons. No back up. No authorities. None of that or else.
…or else something. But considering he’s answering Korine’s phone and she’s gone missing, I know what that or else means.
I stand on the front lawn of his multi-hundred-thousand dollar home and can feel her in the air. My girl’s trapped inside. She’s in serious trouble if he’s lured her here. If he’s put his hands on her, he’ll be dead on sight.
He’s dying no matter what. I’ll happily go to prison if it means putting Ken Stricklin in a grave.
The front door creaks open and he appears, hostile and suspicious. He juts his chin at me. “Stay where you are. If I find out you didn’t really come alone?—”
“I’m alone,” I grit out.
And it’s the truth—I am . On my way up here, I phoned Sydney and had her head to the hospital to keep an eye on Sunny and her condition. Then I phoned Mace and the guys to let them know what the fuck was up.
Mace growled about rolling out to serve as back up, but I told him to stand down. We couldn’t risk Stricklin catching wind of us conspiring against him. He’s spiraled enough that he would be willing to hurt Korine more than he possibly already has. Just to punish me for breaking his rules.
“You’ll understand if I don’t believe a word out of your mouth,” Stricklin says. He steps out of the doorway in his police uniform, with his firearm in full view holstered on his hip. He wants me to see he’s armed and in the powerful position.
For me to understand I’m supposed to be obedient.
I glare watching him approach me like any other cop during a routine stop. He must anticipate the possibility of any of the neighbors looking out their windows or happening by with the way he moves as if the moment’s official business.
“Hands on your head. Feet shoulder width apart.”
“How about you back off or I’ll shove one of those feet up your ass?” I growl back.
“Careful. You could be seen as resisting arrest again,” he says, stepping behind me. His hands begin patting up and down my torso. “If you think for one second I’m letting you inside my home without a proper police pat down, then you must not realize who you’re dealing with. You try anything—anything at all—and you’ll come to regret it. Why haven’t you learned this lesson yet?”
I grind my teeth. “Where’s Korine?”
“Kor’s home. Where she belongs.”
“You’re gonna let her go,” I say as his pat down continues. He’s making his way down my leg. “You let her go and it’ll be between me and you. The way it’s supposed to be.”
“The way it’s supposed to be is my wife in my home, doing what I want, when I want. Not whoring around town with some alcoholic loser who rides a bike for a living. You’ve gotten in my wife’s ear, and you’ve made her all confused. But that ends tonight.”
He gives me a hard shove forward to prompt me toward the house. I’d crack the arrogant look off his face if it wouldn’t cost me getting to Korine.
For the moment, I do as he orders. I head toward the house, waiting out the right time. Stricklin might have a gun strapped on him, but I’m not intimidated in the slightest. I’ll do whatever it takes to get to my girl.
Whatever I need to in order to make sure Kori’s alright and Stricklin’s six feet under.
The night I ambushed him will seem like love taps by the time I’m through with him.
The door clicks shut behind us and he directs me to the living room. I don’t budge an inch.
“Where’s Kori?”
“My wife is otherwise occupied. Get in the living room.”
“I’m not going anywhere ’til I see Kori’s okay.”
“I never said anything about her being okay.”
He says the words with a level of cold indifference, like he couldn’t care less about how she’s doing.
The rage that’s clenched deep inside me burns to be set free—but there’s another emotion creeping from the depths. Disgust that a man could be this way toward a woman he was supposed to love. It’s the same reaction I’d had the night Korine turned up on my doorstep, where I’d gone around and around in circles horrified at how he could hurt her this way. How could he bring her such fucking pain?
“I want to see her. Now.”
“You’ll see her when I say you?—”
“KORI!” I roar into the quiet void that’s the large home. “KORI, ARE YOU HERE? ANSWER ME!”
My first couple calls go unanswered… and then it happens. The smallest, weakest cry of pain comes from upstairs. It’s a groan of my name from a voice that’s been worn thin from trauma.
She’s hurt—my girl is in fucking pain.
“KORI!”
All strategy goes out the window. My determination to search for the right moment. My restraint to play by his rules ’til it arrives. Everything I plotted out before setting foot inside this home flies free of my mind as only one singular thought takes control.
I sink down a hole of red-tinged tunnel vision, where I’m moving off impulse alone.
I’m dashing toward the staircase as Stricklin yells out after me. He springs forward in an attempt to stop me. He’s unholstered his gun and warns me he’ll pull the trigger. A couple steps behind me, he’s swiping out his free hand to grip me by the back of my shirt.
My elbow jerks straight into his face. The hit produces a satisfying crunch of his nose and he’s falling away, tripping down the stairs he’s climbed. His trigger finger accidentally slips at the same time he does and fires rogue shots into the ceiling. The gun flies out of his grip once he’s collided with the floor.
I’m already on the top stair. I bolt down the hall in a surge of adrenaline and ram my shoulder into the door. Sharp pain echoes through my right side, but I couldn’t give less of a shit—the door’s bounced open, practically knocked off its hinges from my direct tackle. I hurry inside searching for Korine.
I don’t have to go far.
She’s in a ball on the floor. Her face swollen and bruised, contorted into an expression of suffering. Her arm’s curled around her stomach like she’s unable to withstand what she’s been through much longer.
He’s put her through this. He’s brutalized her again.
I’d scream from the maddening fury of it if my need to get her to safety didn’t win out.
“Kori. Hang on.”
Before I can even scoop her up, I’m being speared into from behind. Stricklin’s made his way upstairs and he’s launched straight into picking up where we left off. We land in a tumble halfway across the room. We both rise up at the same second and go at it again.
He swings on me. I swing on him. We collide in a brutal crash of violence. If there were any rules, any etiquette to our confrontation, they’re long gone.
I slam Stricklin onto the ground and knock the wind out of him. My fists follow up, pummeling him, smashing into his face. He slips into defensive maneuvers and blocks a few of my blows. We tussle, grappling at each other, trying to gain the upper hand.
Korine screams from the background.
We’re up on our feet. Stricklin comes at me. I duck when he swings and land a fist into his ribs. Then another. By the third, he’s swaying like he’s drunk on his feet and I’m smashing my knuckles into his mouth in a spurt of blood.
But I refuse to stop. I can’t stop.
I’m beyond reason. I’m feral, beating Stricklin into the ground ’til he’s twitching and groaning. My fist only draws back for another hit, seeking to destroy.
To end him.
“Hit him again a-and… and I’ll shoot!”
I go still, heaving out breaths, slicked in sweat and blood from the fight. Confusion passes over me at the voice. Female but not Korine’s. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m thrown even more by the woman standing a few feet away with Stricklin’s gun shaking in her hands.
Janessa?!