Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
LUKE
The Bronco starts to sputter out halfway up Joey’s gravel driveway, coughing smoke. I don’t bother trying to restart it. We’re close enough, and the sound of the gravel would be loud enough to alert anyone at home.
The house sits back from the main road. Not that it matters all that much. The houses are spread out, acres between them, and backed up against the woods.
I walk around the front of the Bronco as Madeline is slipping out of the passenger seat. I shut the door quietly before I back her up against it.
Her eyes widen momentarily, the moon bright enough to give us a good amount of light. I cup her face in both my hands, pressing my forehead to hers. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
If it were only me right now, it would be a different kind of adrenaline pumping through me, ready for a fight, but the stakes have changed, and for once in my life, I have something to lose.
Something that can’t ever be replaced. She might as well take me right along with her if anything were to happen to her.
“I need you to listen to me,” I say, low but urgent, needing her to understand me right now. Really fucking understand me. “From this point on, no pushback. You do what I say, when I say it.”
Her face softens. She nods her head slightly, then tilts her chin up and kisses me, hard but brief.
“I’ll follow all your orders,” she agrees.
“Thank you.” I feel a bit of pressure release off me, but not much. I’m starting to understand why people say they need to fight or fuck. I always just fought, but yeah, Madeline could take that edge right off if I needed, or she could have it roaring to life.
“Hey”—she pats my stomach—“this is only for the next hour,” she quips, a ghost of her usual teasing in her voice, but the moment grows serious again quickly.
I let her go, keeping her beside me but still partly behind so I can quickly step in front of her.
The single-story house comes into view ahead of us.
Plain cedar siding, dark windows, not a flower or wreath or anything that suggests a woman ever lived here.
It’s a simple functional cabin in the woods, built for working men who don’t spend much time indoors.
There is only one light on, and it’s on the front porch.
But it’s the metal garage barn off to the side that catches my attention. Big enough for three bays. That’s the kind of place where you could make a mess and easily hose it down after.
“Not the house,” I murmur to Madeline. “The garage.”
She nods, understanding without me having to explain. Georgia and Grant fall in behind us, quiet, and we keep to the shadows the best we can.
One of the bay doors is partly open at the end, light spilling out onto the concrete slab in front of it. As we move closer, I can hear a voice, low and rhythmic.
I motion for Grant to circle around the back. Got you, he mouths before he melts into the darkness without a word. Georgia stays close to Madeline, her hand clamped over her mouth like she’s trying to keep herself from making a sound.
We edge toward the opening. I hold my arm out so they know to stay behind me as I peer inside.
Emily is there, tied to a chair in the center of the concrete floor, a piece of duct tape across her mouth.
She’s conscious, eyes wide and terrified, tracking Joey as he paces in front of her.
I spot the silver blade in his hand—a knife, long and thin.
He turns it over in his hands like he’s examining a tool.
“…should have listened to me,” Joey is saying, his voice weirdly calm and…
giddy? “I told you Murphy was dangerous. I told you she was going to ruin everything. Ruin you. But you didn’t believe me.
Do you believe me now?” I can see from his profile a creepy smile taking over his face.
Holy fuck, does this dipshit think he’s out here playing the joker?
Emily makes a muffled sound against the tape. Joey stops pacing and crouches down in front of her.
“But you didn’t care. Just like my mother.
You think you’re too good for me.” He slowly stands again.
“Bet you’re not thinking that now, are you?
Bet you’d beg for me to keep you,” he says, the last part almost tenderly.
“I took care of her. For us. Just like Dad took care of my mother. We protect what’s ours. ”
I don’t even understand half the bullshit this motherfucker is saying.
He’s got his own story playing out in his head.
The reality is neither of these dipshits can handle rejection.
Tears start to roll down Emily’s cheeks.
She might be getting the same sense that I am.
He’s going to strike soon. If he planned to keep her like a little captive, she’d be in the house locked away. Unless this is all to scare her first.
Either way, I know time is running out. I give a stop motion to the girls before I step through the doorway.
Joey’s head snaps up. He doesn’t look surprised. He looks... relieved.
“Luke,” he says, slowly smiling. “I wondered when you and your little team would figure it out. You’re smarter than you look.”
“Let her go, Joey.”
“Which one?” He gestures with the knife toward Emily. “The one who came crawling back to me for protection, for help?” He turns slightly to face me more.
“Come on out, ladies,” he calls louder, “or I’ll stab her now.
” Both of them step out. “There she is.” His eyes lock on Madeline, and it takes all my control to not react.
“The other one”—he nods toward Madeline—“who thinks she’s too good for this town after being at Kingmakers for half a second before turning into one of them. ”
“Joey.” Madeline gentles her voice. “You’re not a killer.” I beg to differ.
“Aren’t I?” he laughs, a broken sound. “My father killed the woman who tried to take me from him. Who was too good for us. Then I killed Murphy.”
“Did you kill her for some kind of justice for what she’s been doing with students or because you’re jealous that, just like your father, you didn’t get picked either?”
“I wasn’t done talking!” he bellows, raising the knife to his temple; he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Now where was I?”
“Doing a fucking lot of bitching like a bitch boy.” I shake my head, feigning irritation, and announce, “Are you almost finished with this little monologue? Or do you want to tell us how your daddy taught you how to cut women up?”
“Don’t you fucking talk about my father.
” The calm cracks, rage bleeding through.
He holds the knife out, pointed at me now.
“He protected us.” Spit flies out as he speaks.
“Wouldn’t let anyone disrespect us. He wanted me; he kept me safe, and I feel it’s time I keep the whole town safe from the Kingmakers.
After this massacre, I’m sure those parents won’t be sending any kids back to this town. ”
I wouldn’t be too sure of that.
“Cool story, bro.” Utter rage flashes across his face. Perfect. Rage makes you sloppy. The madder he gets, the more distracted he gets. I know now is my chance if I’m going to make a move, and I take it.
I charge him.
I hear the girls scream behind me. Joey is caught off guard.
He raises the knife back to swing, but I’m already inside his reach, driving my shoulder into his chest. We crash into a workbench, tools scattering across the concrete. A wrench rolls past my foot as Joey’s elbow catches my cheek, snapping my head back.
“Luke!” Madeline screams.
“Get her out!” I shout, grappling for the knife. “Get Emily and run!” I order, trusting that Madeline will live up to her word.
Joey fights dirty—knee up, fingers clawing at my eyes, teeth snapping toward my throat. But fighting dirty is the name of my game. He picked the wrong one.
He is desperate and stronger than I thought he’d be. We spin, crashing against the chair Emily is tied to. She screams against the tape.
“You’re all dead,” Joey hisses, spit flying. “You privileged assholes, thinking you can just take—”
Grant appears from the shadows behind him.
I didn’t hear him come in, but he’s there, as I knew he would be, grabbing Joey by the hair and yanking him backward. The knife clatters to the floor. I kick it across the room, gasping. I blink, trying to clear my vision from swimming, but I’m used to a few blows to the head. I shake it off.
“Go!” Grant yells at the girls so they hurry.
Madeline doesn’t hesitate. She’s already at Emily, tearing at the ropes, Georgia helping pull the tape from her mouth. Emily sobs, gasping for air.
I don’t watch them leave. I keep my eyes on Joey, who’s still struggling against Grant’s grip, his face twisted with rage as crazy shit spouts from him, giving me a fucking headache. He wonders why all the girls are always running from him.
“Hold him,” I say to Grant, and he tightens his fist in Joey’s hair, yanking his head back. Joey snarls, thrashing, but Grant’s got sixty pounds on him and leverage to spare. He can’t take either of us unarmed.
I step closer, close enough to see the madness in his eyes. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit on some level I can relate.
“You know what your problem is, Joey?” I say, low and steady. “You talk too fucking much.”
I drive my fist into his jaw. His head snaps sideways, eyes rolling back. He goes limp in Grant’s hands.
“Jesus,” Grant breathes out. “He was giving me a headache.”
I grunt in agreement. Grant releases his hold, letting him drop. Joey hits the concrete hard, limbs splayed out like a broken doll. Out cold. I give a few small kicks to double-check and one more for good measure.
“Grab the rope,” I say, already scanning the workbench. “Zip ties there.” I point to where I spot them on the bench, keeping a foot on Joey’s head.
Grant moves fast, grabbing them. We roll Joey onto his stomach, wrench his arms behind his back, and bind his wrists. We do his feet next.
“That’ll do,” I say, standing up. My knuckles are split and bleeding, but I barely feel it. “Let’s move.”
We jog for the open bay door, boots pounding concrete.
“Madeline!” I shout the second I clear it.
“We’re here!” Her voice comes from the tree line, shaky but strong. She’s got Emily propped between her and Georgia.
Relief floods through me—they’re safe. My thoughts cut off as my brain catches up to what I see to my left. All the lights in the cabin are now on. I stop running as the door opens and Joey’s dad steps out, shotgun raised like he’s been waiting this whole time.
“Well,” he says, his voice carrying. “Looks like we got ourselves a situation.”
I step into the path, blocking his line of sight of the girls, wanting to shield them any way that I can. I should have cleared the fucking house. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I keep my voice steady but calm.
“Mr. Parker,” I say. “Put the gun down. It’s over.”
He smiles, and it’s the same cold smile I saw on Joey’s face minutes ago. The family resemblance has never been stronger.
“Son,” he says, racking the shotgun. The sound echoes in the quiet night. “It isn’t over till I say it’s over.”
“Well, your boy’s in there bleeding out,” I say, nodding to the garage.
His smile falters. His eyes flick toward the garage, then back to me. The shotgun barrel dips, just an inch.
He steps down off the porch, gravel crunching under his boots. I shift, making sure I’m fully in front of the girls. “If you hurt my boy, I won’t let you off with an easy bullet to the head, like I’d been planning.”
“I mean, he’s breathing.” I shrug. “For now.”
Joe Sr. takes another step toward me, then another.
The shotgun is still raised, but his focus is narrowing right where I want it.
I swear I can feel Madeline’s radiating fear behind me, but I don’t turn around.
I can’t. All that matters right now is keeping her alive.
Putting myself in the line of fire in front of her is the only way to guarantee that.
“Or I could just fucking shoot all of you and then go check on my son.”
“If you shoot us, there’s no coming back from that.
One body, sure, but your son’s mess is too big to clean up at this point, and you only have yourself to blame for that.
” He made that monster, and I’m starting to see that my shitty father did the same to me.
Glad I won’t be turning out like these two fuckwits.
“You Kingmakers think you’re so smart.” He steps closer now—ten feet, then eight. Now close enough that I can see the gray in his beard and the tired lines around his eyes.
“Put the gun down,” I order, making his eyes flare. Yeah, I didn’t think he’d take too kindly to me issuing him an order.
“Fuck you,” he responds, lifting the barrel again.
Grant blindsides him from the side like a freight train.
The shotgun goes off—a deafening crack that cuts through the night. I feel the heat of it whistle past my cheek and the sting of powder and torn skin. I throw myself backward, covering Madeline with my body, shielding her with everything I have.
We hit the ground hard, her breath knocked out in a gasp. My ears are ringing, but I can hear Grant grunting, the scuffle of boots on gravel, and Joe Sr. cursing as Grant wrestles the gun away.
“Clear!” Grant shouts as he comes back to his feet, gun pointed down at Joe Sr.
I roll off Madeline, checking to make sure she’s okay. My hands are everywhere, but I don’t see any wounds.
“Luke.” Her fingers come to my cheek. When she pulls it back, I see the tips covered in blood.
“Just a graze,” I tell her so she doesn’t freak out. “Another scar to add to the collection,” I say, downplaying it. Not that it works.
“Luke!” Madeline’s hands are on my face, her eyes wild. “You’re bleeding, you’re—”
“I’m fine,” I say, but she’s already pulling me up, checking me over with frantic hands like I did to her. I let her have at it. You’ll never hear me complain about her fussing over me and giving me all of her attention.
“We need to call the cops,” Georgia says, her voice shaking. “Someone should—”
“Already done.” I hold up my phone, the screen glowing with my brother’s name on it. The call shows it’s been connected for over ten minutes now. “The cops are on their way.”
Madeline nods, taking a deep breath, calming herself. Or so I thought. Instead, she was refocusing.
She hits my chest. “You idiot! You could have been killed! You stood there like a target and—”
I kiss her, stopping her from saying anything more.
She freezes for half a second, then melts into it, her fingers gripping my shirt, clinging to me. When we break apart, she’s crying and hits my chest a few more times.
“You scared me,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“I’ll try.”
She looks up at me, moonlight catching the tears on her cheeks, and I see it. Really see it. She truly does love me.
She doesn’t care about Kingmakers or the money or any of that shit. She’d be with me if I had nothing.
She loves me.
I kiss her again, softer this time, while the sirens start to wail in the distance.