THIRTY-FIVE
“Why aren’tany of them answering?” Echo’s frustration mounts with each second that passes, fear slicking every word.
I heave out an agitated breath. After blowing up Kara’s phone to no avail, we’ve been trying to reach River and Davis, too, with no luck. The silence doesn’t sit right with me. Zero response from any of them. Nothing. Sure, it’s nearly two in the morning, but one would think with so many incoming calls and messages to three different people, we’d have a good chance at least one of them would realize something is going on and alert the other two.
Flying through the night, Wilder pushes the limit as he drives, but it’s still not fast enough for my liking. My heart careens around in my chest with every beat, terror lancing through me. I run a hand over my face. “How the fuck did we not realize what was happening?” I don’t know how the fuck we’re going to tell River or Kara what their man has done.
“I feel like such a fucking idiot,” Echo hisses. “We knew he was cheating with ‘K,’ River shows up here, meets Kara, and then Kara takes off with her boyfriend for a getaway weekend. The reality is, she’d been at that fancy hotel just outside of town, not realizing the horrifying truth about the sadistic pig she’s with.” She huffs out a frustrated breath. “If he’d treated her like he has River, she woulda been out the door.”
Wilder glances back at Echo. “The reality is he’s been using her. To get to you and Chase and Royal.” His knuckles are white with how tightly he grips the steering wheel. Shaking his head, he mutters, “I don’t fucking see the connection, and it’s driving me fucking insane. What reason could Brian possibly have to threaten the three of you?”
I growl out my irritation. “There’s gotta be something we’re missing. But I can’t tell what it is yet.” I can’t wrap my head around any of it. Hopefully, by the time we do, it won’t be too late.
“Almost there,” Beckham says from the front seat. “I think we’re lucky Kara has remained relatively unscathed. It could be worse. He could have beaten her, too.”
We skid around the last corner and blast down the street the Maddens live on, coming to a screeching halt outside their house. The place is completely dark. My stomach turns. That damn light over the sink is always on. Always. A feeling of foreboding hits me hard in the chest, pushing me into action.
Everyone else must have the same sense of urgency, because all four doors of the truck open at once as we spill from the vehicle. We race to the front porch, and Echo hurriedly jams the key into the lock. She throws the door open, automatically spinning to disarm the alarm.
Only… it’s clearly not set, as there’s no beeping indicating that it’s about to sound. Her head swivels, worried eyes finding mine, Beckham’s, and Wilder’s. “What the fuck,” she spits. She shakes her head, running for the stairs. Fear rises within me as I follow, taking them two at a time, Wilder and Beckham right behind me.
On our way down the hall, we throw open doors, the guest room first, which we expect to be empty, but then, as I’m heading for Chase’s room, Wilder flings Davis’s open. “Fuck. Where is she? River isn’t here,” he heaves out.
What?My head whips around. I was hoping we were about to give his pregnant sister a heart attack, that everything is actually fine, and we’re overreacting. As I throw open Chase’s door and turn on the light, everything in me crashes to a halt. Every cell in my body ceases to function. Our little boy isn’t in his bed.
It takes the wind out of me. I fall to my knees at the side of his empty bed, an anguished noise tearing from my lungs as my hands clench into fists. I bow my head, struggling for air as I choke out, “Echo, I need you in here.”
A second later, Echo blurts out, “She’s gone,” as she rushes into the room. When she sees me, her expression mirrors the horror filling my thoughts. Her wail of disbelief rips my heart right out. She whirls around, eyes scanning the room with her hands clutching at her chest. Her face contorts, and she drags in a breath. And as much as I’m feeling this, Echo is beside herself, shaking. I get to my feet, going to her. I’ve just pulled her into my arms when silent sobs begin to wrack her body. “Where is he?” she cries against my chest, her tears wetting my shirt.
“Where the fuck could they be?” comes Wilder’s torn-up voice from the doorway. I turn my head toward him, unable to speak. His jaw locks, teeth grinding, dark eyes expressing everything he’s thinking. We failed them. But we’ll find them.
Beckham is right there, too, stock-still, his gaze flicking from us to the empty toddler bed. “No. Oh, fuck, no.” He clenches his hair in his hands, slowly shaking his head. He blinks hard. “What about Davis? I thought he was supposed to be here. Didn’t your sister say he was crashing in the den on the couch?”
Echo’s mouth drops into an O, then she nods rapidly, a choked sound escaping her as she pulls out of my hold, pushes past the guys, and sprints toward the stairs.
As we thunder behind her, from somewhere in the dark house, a strangled, garbled noise reaches my ears, then a grating, scratching sound. Familiarity with the house means Echo doesn’t bother to turn on the lights as she jets past the kitchen and heads for the den to look for Davis, desperate for him to be there despite the fact that the asshole is on our shit list. But the ugly truth is if he heard something or saw anything, it might be helpful, no matter that I’m so angry the thought of him makes my blood boil.
As we get to the eating area off the kitchen, Echo turns down the hall and heads for the den, but I stop. There’s another odd sound, like a moan.
I grip Beckham’s shoulder, and mutter low, “Go with her, please.” He nods and takes off behind her without question. I pause, and this time I’m able to distinguish what the scraping noise is. It’s one of the chairs. Throwing out an arm, I catch Wilder, whispering fiercely, “Hit the switch over there, would you?”
A second later, light floods the room, and my eyes bug right out of my head.
Davis sits at the kitchen table, shirtless and strapped to a chair with zip ties at his ankles and wrists. One glance, and it’s apparent he’s been on the receiving end of another beating. Echo and I had laid into him, but he looks so much worse. My stomach turns as I let my eyes scan over him. He’s sporting a newly blackened eye, the split in his chin is open and bleeding again, and there’s a cut at his brow and one on the opposite cheekbone. His mouth has been duct-taped shut, his eyes wild as he struggles against his bonds.
Oh, Christ.I swallow hard. This is bad. Blood drips down his chest from slices made into his skin. “Fuck, Davis,” I hiss out, stepping forward. Laying a hand on his shoulder, I urge him to sit up straight. Holy fucking shit. Someone carved a word across his pecs. Pussy. I blink, my eyes traveling to the table where the instrument used to inflict the damage is in plain sight. A wickedly sharp kitchen knife.
“That’s fucked up,” Wilder grits out, right before he raises his voice. “Echo! Beck! In here!”
The terror in Davis’s eyes tells the entire story. I exhale harshly, hurrying forward to tear the tape from his face at the same time Wilder grabs a pair of kitchen shears from the block on the counter and goes about clipping the zip ties. He gives an angry shout as I free his mouth, and after a hard swallow, he gasps out, “They have them. They took them. I’m sorry.”
Echo stops cold as she enters the room, her gaze darting over her brother and his many injuries. The blood drains from her already pale skin, and she brings her hands up to cover the lower portion of her face as her eyes widen. She’s clearly having trouble taking all this in. “Davis. Who took them?”
His breathing is haggard and raw sounding, as if he’s been screaming for a while. With the jerk of his head, he says in a few clipped words, “There’s a note. On the motherfucking counter. Don’t know what it says.” An anguished sob of torment bursts from him. “I couldn’t stop them. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Them. How many are we talking about Davis?” I whirl toward the kitchen counter that divides the two rooms, snatching up the piece of paper. It’s blood-covered, too, a quickly scrawled message as if whoever wrote it was in a hurry to get the fuck out of here. I read it aloud. “You’ve taken something from us, now it’s our turn to take from you.” Fuck. It sounds just like what the psycho on the phone had said when he broke in here. Motherfucker.
“Two of them,” he mutters. “These guys caught me by surprise. Slapped the tape on my face and tied me up before I could alert the girls. They came down, and it was immediate chaos. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t help them.”
Beckham steps in front of Davis as he rubs at his wrists, gripping his jaw, forcing him to focus. “How the fuck long ago are we talking?”
“I don’t know. Maybe fifteen minutes?” He heaves out a haggard breath. “I think it was the guy Kara’s been dating.”
“Todd.” Beckham rolls his eyes and throws up some air quotes.
“Yes. That’s what she called him. But River called him Brian,” Davis mutters. “I don’t know. This is all my fault.” His eyes crash shut, his hand moving shakily to his carved chest. It comes away sticky with blood, and I half wonder if he’s about to pass the fuck out. He’s not my main focus, though.
Echo’s breaths are coming shallow and quick, and I can tell she’s moving swiftly toward panic. “Chase?” Her voice breaks a little as she says his name. It tears my fucking heart out. And I get it because I feel the same.
Davis winces. “They didn’t hurt him that I know of. He was still asleep when they ran out of here with him wrapped in a blanket. He had that stuffed monkey he’s always sleeping with in his arms.”
Echo’s been trying to hold back, but a sob bursts loose with that information, and my eyes crash shut. I pull her to my chest. “We’re gonna find them,” I rasp into her hair and press my lips to the top of her head. Motherfucking Todd or Brian and whoever the fuck else is responsible. Someone will have to stop me from putting them six feet under.
With tears cascading freely down her cheeks, Echo lifts her head to pin her gaze on her brother. “Who the fuck was the other person?”
He shakes his head, his teeth clenched. “I didn’t recognize him and didn’t catch his name. Tall. Dark hair. He said something about paying for what I did, that they’d be back. That everyone’s going to pay.” As if to clear his head, he gives it a sharp shake as blood continues to flow down the side of his face. “He said something about his sister, but that was right after the Brian or Todd guy whipped me in the face with the back of his fist. My ears were ringing, so I don’t really know if I was following what he was saying correctly.”
“Do Freya and Smith have another sibling?” Wilder questions, his brows raised. I hadn’t noticed him leave the room, but he’s come back with a first aid kit.
Echo shakes her head. “No. I would think if there was another brother or sister, they would have been listed among her surviving relatives at the memorial with the rest of the family.”
My brow pinches, my brain going into fucking overdrive. I scrub my hands over my face in aggravation because the only other person I can think of that was involved in this whole shit show is dead. There’s a thickness in my throat when I mutter, “Okay, what about Alicia?” I let out a harsh exhale. “I remember her having a brother.”
Beckham nods. He looks like he’s going to be sick. “Megan’s stepson. Yes. He was older than Alicia by quite a few years, if I remember correctly.” His forehead pinches. “He’d be about?—”
Before he can finish, a horrible popping and crackling sound coming from the direction of the den makes all of us jump.
Beckham’s head snaps toward the noise. “Oh, hell. It’s coming from the speakers.”
Wilder drops the first aid kit onto the table. His gaze darts to Davis, who shakes his head, waving him off. “Go. I’m coming, too.”
We hurry into the den in time to see the static-filled screen go black. My jaw clenches. At this point, we know who that has to be, even if we’ve never had a Sin Keeper visit anywhere other than at SIN. This is unexpected, to say the least.
“How the hell?” Echo frowns as we stop in front of the TV, staring at the screen. There’s a flicker of light in the background and movement. Not one, but five hooded figures appear, gradually drifting toward the camera. They line up and stop. Silence.
I swear there’s not a single person in this room breathing. My mind races, and I catch Beckham’s gaze, then Wilder’s, subliminally shooting them my question, hoping they pick up on it. Have they ever seen more than one Sin Keeper appear? Because I definitely haven’t.
They both jerk their heads in the negative as we wait. No, never.
Davis limps in, resting a hand on the back of the couch. “What the fuck?” he breathes out. Echo turns toward him, her posture stiff. Fear rolls off her. She’s terrified, I know it. My chest tightens, clamping down on my lungs so I can hardly breathe. I’d be lying if I said I wasn”t terrified, too. I’m worried for Kara and River. But our baby is missing. Taken. And he’s got to be so fucking scared and confused. It tears my heart to shreds even thinking about it.
Under his breath, Beckham asks, “Does this mean they’re in the house? How are they doing this?” I shake my head. I have no fucking clue. It makes no sense.
Backlit, once again, we can see nothing to identify any of the hooded figures on the screen. It’s jarring when one of them steps forward and begins to speak. It’s that awful robotic-sounding voice again, courtesy of some sort of voice-changing device. “We rewrite all the wrongs…”
Another comes forward. “Have given you a place to belong.”
“You assume we’re to blame…” A slight head tilt accompanies this, then the next in line shakes their head.
“But we’re not responsible for this game.”
“Your tormentor has more than one face.” A nod.
And then, all together, they deliver the last part of their riddle or whatever the hell it is. “We will help you find the place.”
The screen goes back to static. “What in the actual fuck,” I growl.
Echo’s breath heaves out. “What do we do now?”
Her question is answered only a second later when a map pops up on the television.
“There’s some sort of screen sharing happening here, I think,” Davis mutters.
I step forward to get a better look. There’s a vehicle moving on a road on that motherfucking map.
Wilder cocks his head to the side, squinting. “Could be a tracker on the vehicle that has them. Or something to do with one of their phones, though that would mean someone had gotten ahold of it in advance of this.”
“Either way, holy shit.” Echo whispers. “What do we do?”
I grimace, “So… the Sin Keepers, emphasis on plural, are leading us to these fuckers?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time they’ve stepped in to help, would it?” Beckham raises his brows, eyeing both me and Wilder. He’s right. They got me out of prison. Helped Beckham learn what he needed to in order to report Megan. And, he hasn’t said as much, but I think they gave Wilder whatever was used to get rid of his dad. As for Echo and Davis, it seems like they’re part of the mess. Brought in to make sure wrongs are righted. It’s a crazy-as-fuck assumption, but I don’t think I’m too far off base.
Echo follows the path of the vehicle on the screen with her finger, frowning. “I don’t know exactly where they’re going, but we need to leave. Now. Before they get too far ahead of us.” Her eyes pinch shut, and it’s clear she’s attempting to stem the flow of tears. “Chase is going to be so scared.”
I want to wrap her in my arms and let her know it’ll all be okay, but we don’t have time for that. I exhale hard. “Okay, if the map is here, how the fuck do we do this? Someone has to stay behind.”
Davis raises a hand. “You all should go. I’ll stay here and relay directions to you.” When no one gives an immediate response, he blows out a breath. “I know you think I’m a horrible person, but this is something I can do for you. It’s my nephew and sister. Please. Let me help.”
I aim a hateful stare at him. “And why the fuck would we trust you to do anything right now?”
Echo wets her lips, giving her head a wary shake. “Because we have no choice.” She stalks over, poking her finger into Davis’s chest. “If you make me regret this, I will have plenty of volunteers to help end you. Don’t you dare fuck this up.”