“He will fucking tell me everything he knows, or I’ll break his goddamn neck,” he snarled.
I shoved him back and got in his space. “You are going to calm the fuck down so I can find out where Mila is, or I will knock your ass out here and now.” I shoved him back again when he tried to go around me, and I knew he could have reached for his gun at any moment, but I was beyond caring. He was slowing down getting to Mila and Monroe, and I would put his ass in the ground before I let him cost us another minute. “I know this is driving you crazy. I’m barely holding on as it is. But you aren’t helping anyone, least of all your girls, by acting like a fucking animal right now.”
He inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. With a jerky nod, he let me know he was going to be calm, and I turned around to face the cop again. While I’d been dealing with the raging Angel, Dad had been listening to the cop finish telling Ben everything they knew.
Pocketing his phone, Dad faced us. “They have a lead on where they might have gone. I’m driving.” Dad looked at Masterson. “I think you should ride with us.”
“I can get there faster on the—”
“Faster doesn’t mean shit,” Dad told him. “You need to get there alive, man. I saw you driving earlier. You are just as wired as Lyric, and you were all over the place. Get in the vehicle. I’ll get you to your daughters in one piece.”
Chapter 22
Mila
My sister’s sobs pulled me back to reality.
“Mila,” she pleaded in a voice choked with tears and fear. “Mila, please wake up.”
I felt a slight sting to my cheek, and my lashes slowly started to lift. Moaning, I was finally able to focus on her face. “Mon?” I muttered, my head throbbing. “What’s wrong?”
But as soon as I saw her tearstained face, the pain and stark fear in her eyes, I remembered everything. I sat up and glanced around.
We were in a room I didn’t recognize. I was on a bed, but there were no pillows, blankets, or even a sheet on the mattress. The worn old springs were biting into my legs and ass. The overhead light was on, showing me the rest of the space with ease, but other than the stained walls, there was nothing else in the room. No other furniture except the bed we were on, no windows, and a single door.
“You’ve been out for hours, I think,” Monroe said, her face twisting with discomfort as she shifted on her knees beside me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, reaching out to touch a hand to her lower abdomen.
“I’m still cramping. And I checked once they left us alone in here. I’m spotting, but it’s not as bad as I thought.” She shifted again, trying to find a position where the springs didn’t dig into her flesh. “I was worried about you. I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.”
“Did they try to hurt you while I was out?” I asked, glancing at the door. Other than the sound of our breathing, I didn’t hear anything outside the door.
“I think the guy who was driving wants to, but the other guy wouldn’t let him.” She wrapped her fingers around the medallion hanging from her necklace. “He’s not coming, is he?” she asked, her chin trembling. “He…He really did abandon me.”
I pulled her head to my chest and kissed her brow. “I’m sorry, Mon.”
“I was stupid to think we could make this work. He obviously got what he wanted from me. I was the one dumb enough to think it meant he actually loved me.” Scrubbing her hands angrily over her tear-streaked face, she lifted her head, determination filling her damp eyes. “We have to get out of here.”
“Right there with you, baby sis.” I stood slowly, testing the waters on if I was dizzy or not. When my vision stayed the same and I didn’t feel the earth tilt, I walked to the door and tried the handle.
Of course, it was locked. Pressing my ear to the door, I tried to listen for any activity on the other side. I didn’t hear anything, though, not even either of the men coughing.
“Have you heard anything while I was out?” I whispered to Monroe.
“No. The driver carried you in here, and the other guy made him leave. Then he shut the door, and I heard the lock click from the other side.”
I walked over to the opposite wall and pressed my ear to it, hoping to hear anything from outside. Straining my ears, I tried to listen for any sign that could tell us where we were. Running water, birds, the wind, or my biggest hope—traffic. But there was nothing.
Keeping my ear against the wall, I waited for a good ten minutes before I thought I heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. As I stood there, the sound got louder, more distinct. Whoever it was, they were speeding like a bat out of hell and coming right toward us.
Moments later, the vehicle stopped, and I heard three doors slam shut. I pounded my fist against the wall. “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey, let us out of here!”
Monroe came over and knocked her fist against the wall too. “Help!” she yelled. “Someone, help us!”
“Mila!” a voice I knew and loved bellowed. “Mila, I’m coming,” Lyric promised.
My heart quickened, and I grabbed Monroe’s hand. “They came for us,” I told her.
Tears filled her eyes, and she smiled. “We’re going home.”
But even as she said it, the sound of bullets came from the other side of the house. I felt all the blood drain from my face when I heard someone shout in pain, followed by more gunfire.
Heavy, running feet sounded outside the door of our room, and then it was pushed open. The driver ran in, his eyes manic. I pushed Monroe behind me, because his eyes were on her.
A backhand to my face sent me flying. I reached out, catching myself on the bed before I hit the floor. Monroe cried out in pain when he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the room, but he left the door open.
Stumbling to my feet, I ran after them. I had no idea how I would help my sister, but I knew I needed to at least try.
The house seemed to be one level, and the layout was pretty open from the quick look I got of the place. There was a couch in the living room and a beat-up old coffee table in front of it. Empty pizza boxes littered it, along with beer and soda cans. And right on top of one of the boxes lay a Glock.
I grabbed it, checking the magazine to make sure there were bullets in it. Taking off the safety, I ran out the door just as I heard Monroe scream in pain.
The guy was still dragging her by the hair, but she’d fallen and was on her hands and knees as he pressed his gun to her temple while still backing toward a car I didn’t recognize.
“Let her go,” Jesse Thornton commanded, and I blinked when I realized he was holding a gun, pointed right at Monroe’s captor.
The guy spat something in Italian, and Monroe only screamed again, sobbing as she tried to get to her feet.
“Mila.” I jerked at the sound of my name and, turning my head, saw Lyric on the other side of the car. He was holding his arm, and my heart stopped. “Baby, run,” he begged. “Get out of here.”
I shook my head, tears burning my eyes. Was he shot? Oh God, no. I couldn’t stand it if he was hurt.
“Mila!” I heard Dad’s voice but couldn’t see him. Lyric looked down beside him, and I realized Dad must have been behind the car with him. “Go!”
“Not without Monroe,” I told them. There was no way I was leaving without my other half. They could get mad all they wanted, but I wasn’t leaving her behind. Ever.
“Mila.” Jesse’s voice was softer, oddly calm, seeing as he was pointing a gun at some stranger. “I need you to back up into the house, honey. I don’t want one of these bullets accidentally hitting you or one of my grandbabies. Okay, sweetheart?”
The guy raged again and lifted his gun, pointing it right at me. Out of instinct, I lifted my own, ready to pull the trigger, but before I could, two rounds went off.
The guy holding Monroe by the hair dropped to his knees before falling lifelessly onto his face. My sister started screaming, crawling backward from the dead body, and I just stood there, looking in utter awe at the man who was going to be my father-in-law.
The gun dropped out of Jesse’s hand, and he frowned down at the dead body as if he couldn’t believe he was responsible for taking someone’s life.
Lyric bent, and when he reappeared, he was helping Dad. There was blood pouring from Dad’s right shoulder and left leg. Lyric seemed to be taking most of his weight as he half carried, half dragged Dad around the side of the car.
When they reached Monroe, Dad dropped down beside her and pulled her into his arms, trying to soothe her. Lyric, holding his arm once again, ran over to me.
Before he could wrap his arms around me, I dropped my gun and grabbed his injured arm. “Were you shot?” I cried.
“Yeah,” he said like it didn’t matter, like he didn’t have a hole in his fucking arm right then and was bleeding all over the place. He wrapped his arms around me, his lips touching every part of my face and neck he could reach. “Are you okay?” he asked in a raspy voice. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I’m okay,” I tried to reassure him, but I wasn’t sure he heard me because his hands were skimming over my entire body, feeling for injuries. When he looked at my face, his eyes narrowed. “You have a bruise here,” he said, touching my jaw with fingers that shook.