Grabbing his phone, Wolfe skimmed through his contacts until he found the man he was looking for.
Time to give Travis Walker a call.
The phone rang twice before his cousin’s gruff voice answered. “’Lo?”
“Hey, Trav. It’s Wolfe.”
“What’s up, man? Things good?”
“Not really, no. I need your help.”
“You got it.”
That was what Wolfe loved about family. They were willing to help without even knowing what it was you needed.
“All right then. Here’s what’s goin’ on…”
“Goddamn it,” Lynx yelled, slamming his phone down on his leg. “Sorry, boy,” he told Copenhagen when the dog peered over at him.
Reagan wasn’t answering the damn phone and he was still five miles out. It was making him fucking crazy. If that crazy fucking lunatic bastard had made an appearance in Embers Ridge, the woman was a sitting duck.
There was no doubt about it, the asshole knew right where Amy was. Or rather, where she should be. Had probably known all along. There was no other explanation for the detective who’d arrived here to die here the same day. He didn’t even need Wolfe’s or Rhys’s confirmation that it was her.
It was her. And that bastard was lurking somewhere. Maybe he’d come to snuff out the detective, but he wasn’t leaving without finishing what he came for. The accident wreaked of desperation, which meant Amy damn sure wasn’t safe. And in turn, neither was Reagan.
“Fuck.” He white-knuckled the steering wheel. “We have to get to her, Cope. Have to. If that motherfucker thinks Reagan’s Amy…”
He didn’t want to think about that.
But it was possible.
It damn sure didn’t help that Reagan looked similar enough to Amy before she had dyed her hair. In a dark house, the asshole wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
“Goddammit!” Lynx roared, hitting the steering wheel.
He hated this helpless feeling. Fucking hated it.
With his foot to the floor, Lynx fishtailed off the main road and onto the dirt road that led to Amy’s place.
Three minutes.
He’d be there in three fucking minutes.
Right now, that felt like an eternity.
Reagan heard the noise when she was washing her face.
She slipped out of the bathroom, hand towel pressed to her cheek. Glancing left into the guest room where she’d been sleeping, she checked to see if it had come from there. She didn’t see anything.
That didn’t stop her from setting the hand towel down and picking up her sawed-off shotgun. This was her no-nonsense gun. It made grown men’s eyes widen and their nuts shrivel. That was the very reason she loved it.
The rest of the house was dark, so she turned to her right, moved slowly down the hall.
She heard it again. The sound of the lock on the front door.
Her phone rang again, but she ignored it.
She knew Amy wasn’t the visitor at the front door. No way would she come home this late. For one, she couldn’t drive herself since her car was parked out front.
Reagan stopped at the mouth of the hallway, shotgun up and aimed at the front door.
“Just to warn you,” Reagan stated firmly, loud enough to warn the would-be intruder, “my daddy taught me never to point a gun at a man unless I intend to shoot him. Open that door and I will put an extra hole in your body.”
The noise stopped, but Reagan remained where she was. Waiting.
Several seconds passed, her heart hammering hard, blood rushing in her ears.
A pounding on the front door had Reagan damn near coming out of her skin.
“Reagan! Open the goddamn door!”
Lynx?
What the fuck?
With the gun still at the ready, she moved closer to the door. “What do you want?”
“You to answer the goddamn phone,” he yelled back.
Okay, so it was definitely Lynx. She’d ignored at least one of his calls, and she figured the others had been from him, too.
Reaching over, she flipped the lock, then took a step back, the shotgun still aimed at center mass.
The knob turned and the door opened a fraction of an inch.
Taking a deep breath of relief, she lowered the gun. “Why the hell’d you try to break in?” she questioned, pissed that he’d do something so freaking stupid.
He frowned. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“The lock.” She nodded toward the door.
Lynx glanced down and studied the brass deadbolt.
“Fuck. Come on. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I’ll fill you in on the way out. Keep the gun with you. Let’s go.”
Lynx Caine could be a world-class asshole, but he wasn’t the type to order her around unless he felt it was necessary.
And that was the only reason Reagan followed him out the door and into the night.
Without a lick of makeup on.
Kelly watched from the shadows as the oversized tattooed cowboy took the brunette out to his truck.
His heart was slamming against his ribs, the adrenaline making his dick hard.
That had been damn close.
Too close.
If it hadn’t been for the roar of that damn engine, Kelly would’ve been a sitting duck when that asshole showed up.
But he was so close.
Taking a deep breath, Kelly stood from the shadows when the headlights turned and aimed in the opposite direction. They were leaving.
Good.
That would give him time to come up with a plan. One that would eliminate Amy once and for all. Shit. He’d already gone too far taking out Jo, but the woman had been a menace. She shouldn’t have stuck her nose in his business.
Thankfully, she was no longer a threat.
And once he got his hands on Amy, she wouldn’t be, either.
But tonight wouldn’t work. With the accident, the local cops would be busy for a while, but that also meant they were out and about. Since he was supposed to be in San Antonio on business, he would do well to head that way and be seen. Taking care of that damn nosy detective had been his main objective tonight and he’d accomplished that.
There would be plenty of time to come back for Amy later.
He’d let some of the heat die down. Maybe a day. Possibly two.
But he would be back.
And he would take care of her once and for all.
Amy had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but she had a good idea of what had woken her. From Wolfe’s bedroom, she could hear voices. Loud voices. More than one, at that.
She took a few minutes to get herself presentable, using the restroom, pulling her hair up in a ponytail, brushing her teeth, and putting on clothes. By the time she emerged from the bedroom, the voices had subsided.
“Hey, baby,” Wolfe greeted.
When he walked across the room and came right to her, she knew something was wrong.
“What is it?”
Her attention was drawn to Lynx and Reagan sitting at the kitchen table, Copenhagen sleeping on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.
“What happened?” Her gaze darted around the house, anxiety curling in her belly. “Where’s Rhys?”
“He had to go work an accident,” Wolfe explained. “Come here. Sit down.”
Amy pulled out of his grasp. “Tell me, Wolfe. What’s goin’ on?”
Wolfe sighed as he thrust his hands in his pockets. “Joanna Tannenbaum was killed tonight.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “What?”
Oh, God. Oh, God.
She felt the panic bubbling up from her belly. It raced up into her throat, threatening to strangle her.
“Sit,” Wolfe ordered, urging her down on the sofa.
This time she didn’t resist. Her legs were too weak.
He followed her down, his arm coming around her shoulders. “She wa
s leavin’ town. Someone ran her off the road. Rhys called a few minutes ago to confirm it was her and that he didn’t suspect it was an accident.”
“He’s here. He’s in Embers Ridge.” She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was too tight, her lungs weighed down by some unseen force.
Amy leaned over, trying to catch her breath. She saw Lynx’s big booted feet as he came to stand in front of her. He perched on the coffee table and she forced herself to look up at him.
“He tried to break into your house tonight,” Lynx told her.
Her gaze swung to Reagan. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I was ready for him.” A smile formed on her lips as she nodded toward the door.
Amy looked over to see three shotguns leaned against the wall and one big, nasty-looking gun beside them.
“Lynx must’ve scared him off,” Wolfe said, his arm tightening around her.
“Do you think he’s still here?” she asked, knowing no one could really answer that.
“Hard to tell, but I doubt it. With the accident and the cops out on patrol, he’s probably hightailin’ it outta Dodge.”
Amy dropped her head into her hands and took deep, cleansing breaths. Poor Jo.
As she thought about the detective who had come here to warn her, anger seeped into her bloodstream, erasing some of the panic. After a few more deep breaths, Amy lifted her head and peered at the three people watching her.
“He has to be stopped,” she insisted.
“That he does,” Lynx agreed.
“So what do we do?” Amy asked, looking to Wolfe for answers. “How do we stop him?”
“Don’t know, darlin’, but we’ll figure somethin’ out.” He pulled her closer to him and his lips pressed to her forehead. “I promise you that.”
It was one thing to know he was coming after her, something else entirely for him to start eliminating random people. If he could take out a detective, Amy knew it wasn’t farfetched to believe he could take out Rhys and Wolfe, too.
Her blood turned to ice, and for the first time in her life, she felt something other than fear when it came to Kelly Jackson.
No, this was something akin to a full-blown homicidal rage.
29
__________
“No! Don’t! Please!”
Wolfe’s eyes flew open, his body jerking upright as his tired brain prepared to face the threat. Reaching for the lamp, he tugged the chain, and the room filled with a soft yellow glow.
The empty room, that was.
Beside him, Amy jerked, her voice a whimper. “No more, please! Don’t!”
Oh, fuck.
With a gentle hand, Wolfe shook Amy, trying to wake her from the apparent nightmare. With his voice little more than a whisper, he leaned closer. “Baby, wake up,” he urged. “Come on. You’re dreamin’.”
Her body jerked and her eyes opened. Wolfe noticed she was breathing hard and tears were streaming down her face.
When it appeared she was lucid, Wolfe wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close to his side. He brushed her sweat-dampened hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
While Wolfe was giving Amy time to catch her breath, he heard the sound of the front door open, then close. He knew Rhys was back and he was finally able to fully relax himself. He’d been asleep for about an hour, but it had been fitful, leaving him tossing and turning, his brain unable to shut down completely. Rhys had texted to let him know he was still working the scene and that he’d be home soon.
A few minutes later, the bed shifted.
“Hey,” Wolfe greeted, his voice rough from exhaustion.
“Hey.” Rhys leaned over and kissed Amy’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“Nightmare,” he answered for her.
“Wanna talk about it?” Rhys asked as he got situated, his body pressing close to Amy’s on the opposite side as Wolfe.
“It’s one I have all the time,” she said softly, her hand absently sliding over Wolfe’s chest.
Neither of them spoke, and Wolfe knew Rhys was waiting the same way he was, hoping Amy would continue to open up to them, to let them in.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the scars on my back. I don’t think about them much anymore because I rarely see them, but I’ll never forget how they got there.”
Wolfe sucked in a sharp breath and met Rhys’s eyes in the dimly lit room.
He could see the same fury that had ignited in his gut burning brightly in the man’s dark eyes. This was another story, another reason Kelly Jackson needed to be stopped. He wasn’t sure prison was enough for the bastard.
In fact, he wasn’t sure Hell was enough punishment for the bastard, but it was a damn good start.
Her bones were frozen, the nightmare having taken its toll on her. Amy hated those damn dreams, the reminders of what she’d lived through, what Kelly had done to her. As much as she hated talking about them, it did help. More so when she shared with Rhys and Wolfe. They didn’t make her feel the shame she’d been consumed with for so long.
“The first time it happened, I was in the kitchen washing dishes,” she began, the memory taking over, carrying her right back to that horrific day.
“You done in there yet?” Kelly called from his spot in front of the television.
That was where he went every day after dinner. She was expected to have it ready for him and it couldn’t be the same thing he’d had at any point in the past month. And he insisted it was fresh meat and vegetables. Nothing frozen, no cans. Amy hadn’t been much of a cook before she met him, but after, she’d had no choice but to learn.
“Almost,” she answered softly, making sure there was no heat in her tone although she hated that he questioned her all the time. The water was on in the sink; he should know she wasn’t finished yet.
“I want the bathroom done next. It’s filthy.”
Amy rolled her eyes as she stared out the window. The bathroom wasn’t filthy, because she had cleaned it two days ago when Kelly had found a drop of conditioner on the glass shower door. At that point, he had insisted that she get on her hands and knees and scrub the entire bathroom.
“Did you hear me?” he yelled.
Amy glanced over her shoulder to see him on the couch, bare foot propped on the coffee table. She wanted to tell him to clean the bathroom himself, but she knew better.
“I heard you,” she answered, scrubbing the pan from dinner.
The water must have masked the sound of his approach, because Amy didn’t even know he was behind her until he grabbed her hair and jerked her head back.
“Did you just talk back to me?”
“N-no. No, of course not.” Fire burned her scalp as he yanked her backwards.
Then it was gone because he shoved her forward. Her soapy hand slipped on the edge of the kitchen sink, and she fell forward, her cheek hitting the faucet.
“Get in the goddamn bathroom and clean it up!”
“I…” Amy pushed herself up. “I have to finish the dishes. I’m almost done.”
Admittedly, her tone wasn’t as submissive as she normally was, but the anger was building and she couldn’t seem to contain it.
Kelly’s fist slammed down on the lever controlling the water and the sink shut off. When she reached for a hand towel, he grabbed her upper arm, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh.
“Kelly … don’t. Please. I’ll clean it.”
“You’re goddamn right you will. And when you’re finished, you’ll get the punishment you deserve. The punishment I should’ve given you a long damn time ago.” He jerked her toward the bathroom.
When they reached it, he shoved her, sending her slamming into the wooden door. A sob threatened, but she held it back as she turned and slipped inside. She knew better than to close the door. She was never allowed to close the door. Not when she showered or used the bathroom. He insisted that he always be able to see her. That was the reason for the cameras everywhere.
&
nbsp; Amy felt the two men beside her move closer, their arms holding her tightly. It was their presence that made the memory bearable. She knew she would never have to endure that ever again.
“After I cleaned the bathroom, he made me strip. Said I was dirty. I told him I would shower, but he said no. Said that would happen after my punishment.” She took a deep breath. “When he pulled out the whip, I freaked. He had hit me plenty of times and had used various things. A belt, a flyswatter, a ruler, a wooden spoon. Whatever he could find close by. But a whip… I was terrified.”
Neither man said anything, but she felt the tension in their bodies.
“I tried to run, but he caught me. I kicked and screamed, but he tied me to the bed. He kept ropes there because that was his thing. He sat on me while he secured me in place, facedown on the mattress. I never stopped fighting, never stopped screaming. I kept hoping that one day someone would hear me. The mailman, UPS driver, solicitor, Jehovah’s Witness. I didn’t care, I just wanted someone to hear me, someone to stop him. No one ever did.
“Anyway, that night, he whipped me until I bled. The pain was excruciating. But the worst of it came when he made me shower afterwards. He scrubbed my back with soap, and I screamed and screamed until finally I passed out from the pain.” She swallowed hard. “That was the first time he used the whip. It wasn’t the last.”
Wolfe pressed his lips to her forehead. “He will never hurt you again.”
She knew he meant what he said, but Amy only prayed it was true.
Sleep didn’t come easily for Rhys. And when he did finally drift off, the events of the night had caught up with him. Seeing Joanna Tannenbaum’s lifeless eyes staring back at him, her car mangled beyond belief. Then Amy’s story of the additional horrors she had survived.
It had roused him, making it impossible to close his eyes again.
It all made Rhys question himself, his job. Being a sheriff wasn’t something he’d ever thought he would do, but he enjoyed it. Liked helping people, protecting people. Then shit like this came to light and he realized it wasn’t enough.
There were monsters like Kelly Jackson out there. They came out of the woodwork all the time. And right now, as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Rhys knew someone out there was suffering the way Amy had and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it.
Hard to Hold Page 33
