Chapter 60 Ryder
RYDER
As I surged to my feet, the front door flew open.
Mack. Justin. Roman.
They strode into the living room like they owned the place, black coats flaring, boots heavy on the hardwood.
I didn’t blink. Didn’t stop. My hand was already fishing for my phone. One bar. Come on.
I dialed Louise.
No answer.
Mack, seeing the storm of panic and rage behind my eyes, threw up a hand. “Whoa, dude. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“He has her,” I said hoarsely, barely hearing myself over the roar in my ears. I was already moving. Already heading for the door. “Miles. That guy from Ponco. He’s the damn String Strangler, and Lou left with him hours ago.”
I pushed past them and jogged toward the door.
“Wait!” Mack called after me. “Does this have anything to do with the body they just found on your land?”
I stopped long enough to glance over my shoulder. “How the hell do you know about that already?”
“We know everything. You know that,” Mack said, calmly. “That’s why we’re here. Thought you might need a hand—or maybe a one-way ticket somewhere. We could get you out of the country.”
“No ticket,” I growled, slamming another call attempt to voicemail. “But I could use hands.”
Justin checked his weapon without hesitation. “Where to?”
“Hollow Hill,” I said. “That’s where he takes his victims. That’s the only place I know to look right now.”
They moved fast, splitting toward the Escalade that was blocking my truck in, but Mack caught me before I slammed the door shut.
“Ryder, listen to me.” His voice dropped low. “You’re on parole. Whatever happens—don’t pull that trigger. You hear me?”
I rammed the gear into drive, sending him stumbling backward, and barreled over a stack of firewood.
Instead of taking a left out of the driveway, I hung a right, taking a gamble on a shortcut to Hollow Hill. The Escalade turned left. I knew these mountains better than Astor’s boys, and I only hoped my internal compass was guiding me correctly now.
Picturing the back roads in my head, I created a mental map while I sped down narrow dirt roads barely wide enough to pass through. Branches scraped down the side of my truck, but I didn’t notice.
I tried Lou’s cell three more times with no luck, and desperation forced me to make the next call. Though the reception was spotty, Ellen at BSPD dispatch repeated the words, “String Strangler” and “Hollow Hill.” I could only hope she got the message.
Rocks and ice spun up from my tires as I fishtailed around a corner.
Please let me be on time.
Hollow Hill came into view, dark menacing clouds looming overhead.
Lou’s 4Runner was parked out front.
My heart sank.
I killed the engine and leapt out, double-fisting my gun as I crept along the weather-beaten side of the house.
Every cell in my body was screaming.
Staying low, I breached the house, sweeping my gun from dark corner to dark corner. And that’s when I heard it. Sobs and whispers from upstairs.
“Lou,” I breathed, bolting for the staircase.
I took the steps two at a time, my boots hitting the planks like thunder.
Then—
A scream. Ragged and raw, ripped straight from her soul.
“STOP!” I bellowed, charging the hallway.
I kicked open the master bedroom door—
and what I saw will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Miles, pants around his waist, lowering himself onto her.
My woman.
My Lou.
Rage exploded through my veins.
I lunged, tackling him with the full force of a freight train. We crashed into the wall, then the windowsill—glass shattered. His head snapped sideways. He collapsed.
I spun around and dropped to my knees beside Lou.
I frantically checked her over, looking for open wounds or anything that needed immediate attention. Her arms and legs were zip-tied, mouth sealed with duct tape, one eye swollen shut. Her skin—God—her skin was black and blue.
“Baby, it’s gonna hurt,” I said before I peeled the tape from her lips as gently as I could.
She sobbed. “Ryder…”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I checked her over again—shaking, bruised, bloodied, but she was alive.
“Are you hurt anywhere else? Bleeding?”
My attention was pulled to the sound of shuffling behind me.
Miles.
The rage ignited like a match to gasoline.
I surged to my feet and spun around as Miles was climbing out through the window. Raising my gun, I sighted on him and slid my finger around the trigger—
Three men burst through the door.
“Ryder, no!”
Roman tackled me, arms locking me down, while Justin leaped onto Miles’s back, sending them both through the window.