“Kevin!” called one of the children, bringing her out of her morose reflection.
Abbott looked at the kids, not seeing the babysitter around. A handful of the younger kids were gathered at the edge of the cornfield.
“Kevin! Come out!”
Abbott placed the corncob she was holding on the ground and stood. Looking at the rows of tall stalks, she couldn’t see any little boy. She hurried from the porch over to where the kids stood.
“What happened?”
One little girl pointed. “Kevin went in there.”
Abbott’s heart sank. The corn was as tall as she was, there was no way to see little Kevin at all.
“Okay,” she said. “One of you go get your mom or dad and tell them about Kevin. I’m going to go in and look for him. All the others stay here. Don’t wander off, got it? We don’t need to be looking for you too.”
The kids nodded solemnly and one boy turned and ran off toward a house. His own, Abbott assumed. She took a deep breath and entered the neat rows of corn stalks, looking for a lost child. After this, she didn’t think she could eat corn on the cob again.
As she moved deeper into the maze-like grid, she kept calling Kevin’s name. Light struggled to get past the unfolded leaves, causing the area near the ground to be cooler and denser to see through. A rustle came from her left and she spun, straining to look through the shadows.
“Kevin? Is that you?”
A cloth covered her mouth and nose, and just like that the world faded from around her.
****
Piper wiped her hands on a towel as she came outside to see how much Abbott had gotten done, only she was gone. A half-finished ear sat on the ground near the chair.
“Abbott?” she called out.
“She went in there,” a little girl called out.
Piper looked at the children and saw the girl pointed toward the cornfield. Unease slithered through her belly.
“Why did she go in there?”
“We thought Kevin was in there.”
Piper saw Kevin playing in the dirt, covered head to toe. Ignoring him, she hurried to where the little girl pointed.
“Abbott?” she yelled.
No response. The unease turned into dread and all her instincts screamed at her that something was off. Maybe it was residual panic left over from her own stalking days, but she couldn’t ignore the warning bells going off in her brain. Spinning, she rushed past a concerned parent as she hurried to the computer lab behind the grandstand.
Ignoring everyone, she ran as fast as she could, through the house and out the back, up to Mac’s house. She threw open the door to see Kix, Slade, and her brother.
Kix surged to his feet. “What’s wrong, Piper?”
“Abbott’s missing,” she gasped, panting from her sprint.
****
Wick hadn’t even realized he had stood, or was falling, until Slade caught him. “What? What do you mean missing?”
“She went into the cornfield,” she said. “I don’t feel right about this, Kix. Something is off.”
“By your house?” Mac asked.
“Yes.”
“Hold on, I have a camera covering your property.”
Mac began punching his keyboard and several camera angles changed. Wick realized he was looking at Kix and Piper’s house from different angles. Then another monitor began to whip through stills until it came to one focused on a dirt road. Wick had no idea where that camera happened to be but he saw a car parked some distance away. It was too tiny to see any detail or markings, but what he did see made his blood freeze.
A man had emerged from the cornfield, and over his shoulder was a body.
Abbott.
“No,” Wick whispered achingly.
“Holy shit,” Kix muttered. “He was on our fucking property!”
The man put Abbott in the car, walked around to the driver’s side, and then the car drove forward. Right past the camera. Mac halted the image and enhanced the front bumper to get the license plate number.
“She has the cell phone you gave her,” Wick said. “Ping it. Find her.”
Mac rolled over to another keyboard but nothing happened. He executed the command again, but still, nothing.
“She must be out of range,” Mac said.
“Range?” he asked.
Mac nodded. “I can turn on the locator chip within a five mile radius. He’s already past that.”
Wick felt crushed, like he’d been flung into the ocean ready to swim, only to be dashed apart on the rocks below.
“Do you think he took her back to Stevens?” Kix asked him, but his brain was still struggling with the knowledge that Abbott was gone.
No, not gone.
Taken.
“Wick!” Kix shouted and shoved his shoulder.
Wick blinked and focused on him. “Uh … yeah. It would make sense. I mean, we’re all from there.”
Kix nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll head. Mac, you’re coming with us. If you can turn on that fucking phone within five miles we’ll have that bastard.”
It was a plan and right then Wick really needed the levelheadedness Kix brought to the table, because he couldn’t fucking think. He could barely breathe. If anything happened to her … he couldn’t even contemplate the rest of that thought.
Chapter Eleven
Flashes cascaded through her brain. Lights. A sense of moving. Something was wrong, deadly wrong, but her head hurt too much to think about it. It was easier to keep her eyes closed and drift along in the darkness because she was fairly certain that whatever it was that felt off was something she didn’t want to face.
She drifted back into the warm embrace of nothingness. Every once in a while, she brushed along the edges of wakefulness, only to drift back to sleep. It was hard to escape the confines of oblivion.
Abbott came slowly back to awareness. The back of her head hurt and when she tried moving her arm to touch the sore spot, she realized her hands were constricted. Opening her eyes, she saw she lay on a bed, in a shabby room where paint peeled from the walls and a faint trace of decay lingered in the air.
As she glanced down at herself, relief hit her that she was still dressed. Her clothes hadn’t been touched or removed. Her wrists were zip tied together and as she tried moving them, the plastic dug into her skin. Her legs were unbound, so she cautiously sat up, wincing as the pain in her head blazed like white fire. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she instead concentrated on where the hell she was and how the hell to get free. Because it was a predicament she’d been in before, she didn’t panic.
She knew who held her. She’d recognize Billy’s handiwork anywhere.
The tears she’d once had for being at the mercy of a madman didn’t come. Yes, she was scared, but she was more pissed than anything. He’d stolen eleven years of her life. He was trying to take away her future.
Love for Chadwick welled up in her heart. In her soul. It obliterated any remaining guilt and fear still lurking in her mind. She knew, without a doubt, Wick wouldn’t rest until he’d found her. Save her. But this time, she was just as determined to prove that she wasn’t the weak-willed girl anymore that she once was.
Standing up, nausea temporarily gripped her and she bent over to retch any remaining food left in her stomach. Vaguely she knew that vomiting after a head trauma wasn’t a good sign, but she’d be damned if she stayed in the room like a helpless lamb to slaughter. She wiped her mouth against her hand to get rid of the lingering drool, and then took a few deep breaths. It helped. First things first, she had to find something to cut the binding around her wrists.
No doubt Billy was nearby, resting on his laurels that he’d captured her. She’d always cowered from him before, so he probably doubted she’d give him too much fuss. Slowly turning the bedroom knob, she eased the door open, wincing a little as it squeaked. She peeked out, making sure the coast was clear before stepping into the hallway.
The rest of the house was just as d
own-trodden as the bedroom she’d been in. Carpet worn through in places. The outline of pictures that used to be there stained the walls. Dust sat thick on the baseboards. Everything had a stale, unused quality about it. She walked slowly toward the front of the house, carefully placing her footfalls and testing for any creaking boards before applying all of her weight. A staircase curved up on the right, and there was something vaguely familiar about the interior. A memory tickled the back of her mind.
As she came to the first doorway, she glanced in. A bathroom that had seen better days. Ignoring it, she continued on until she came to a large archway that led into another room. The living room perhaps. At the chipped edge of the wall, she cautiously peered inside and saw Billy standing there, staring at her. Cold hatred poured from his face.
“You should’ve stayed in the bedroom,” he snapped.
With her heart racing in fear, she faced him fully. “Why, Billy? Why do you chase after me? Why do you continually try to find me when all I want to do is live my life?”
He pointed at her. “You know why. I was going to give you the world, and you fucking stabbed me in the back.”
“A decade, Billy! It was over ten years ago. Ordinary men don’t stalk a girl to death! The choices I made were mine alone. I don’t love you. I don’t want you. Why can’t you let me go?”
He marched up to her, eyeing his prey, and she backed up until she hit the wall with her shoulders. She stared up at him in horror as he glared down.
“Because my son or daughter would be ten years old, Abbott,” he said in a deceptively soft voice. Standing this close to her, however, she could see the fury boiling in his eyes. “You gifted me with your innocence and I took you with me out of this shithole town. You belonged to me. Our child belonged to me. And with one appointment at a clinic, you deleted their existence. How dare you? How fucking dare you!”
“I did what I did because you’re insane, Billy,” she flung back at him. “You’re a heroin addict, not to mention you’re also a criminal. I didn’t want my child to have your blood. You hurt people. You hurt me. You didn’t own me, so I made the only choice I could make at the time. I was in no place to raise a child and you certainly were not father material.”
“Damn you. I own every inch of you, from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. Every part of you I own!”
She shook her head. “You never owned my heart. Chadwick owns it.”
It was, perhaps, the wrong thing to say. Fury lit up his face and he raised his fist. She didn’t even have a chance to try to defend herself as he punched her right in the jaw. Pain exploded through her head as darkness consumed her once more.
****
Agony forced her out of unconsciousness and Abbott opened one eye. The other, she realized, had swelled shut. As she tried to move, her legs weren’t cooperating, and she realized not only were her hands bound but now here ankles were too. She wouldn’t be walking anywhere soon.
A figure appeared in the doorway, and Abbott had to squint her one good eye to clear the blurriness. Billy came into sharp focus and her breath hitched in fear as she saw a needle, a spoon, a lighter, and a bag of tan powder. She shook her head, although the pain almost made her vomit.
“No, Billy,” she pleaded, past the swelling in her jaw. “You know I’m allergic.”
He snorted derisively. “You’re not allergic. I just hit a vein last time.”
“I broke out in hives, remember? And threw up all over the place. The doctor said it was an allergic reaction. Please don’t put that stuff in me.”
“Shh,” he said. He sat down next to her and began to prepare the heroin mix. “Once you’re flying you’ll remember what it was like between us. Remember how good it was, before you took away my child?”
“Get the fuck away from me!”
Abbott tried scooting back, but her body wasn’t cooperating fully. Her mind screamed at her to try and escape but her limbs were numb from lack of blood circulation.
Then he opened up the bag of syringes and extracted a new one. He drew the drug up before straddling her. Abbott fought, but it was like battling a vicious cyclone. A helpless, hopeless struggle. The needle pierced her arm and she cried out. The heroin burned going in, and immediately, her arm began to swell. Fire licked under her skin as a red rash appeared, and then little blister-like bumps rose up. They itched like the devil but she couldn’t scratch them.
Finally, the drug kicked in and everything began to fade. Her mind became numb, and it was almost a blessing because all she wanted to do was rip her arm off. From far away, she heard Billy’s evil chuckle.
“See?” he taunted. “You’re my girl again.”
Chapter Twelve
Wick’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled over to the side of the road. The name Mac flashed across the screen so he shut down the bike’s engine to hear what the tech wizard had to say.
“Tell me something good,” he said, reining in his desperation.
“I got her location. I’m sending you the location. We’re stuck in some kind of traffic jam so we’ll be there when we can.”
“No worries. I’ve got it.”
Wick revved the motor. As soon as the map came through on a text message he took off. He knew the backroads of Stevens better than anyone, and it didn’t take him long to realize he was riding toward the old farmhouse off Country Road Z, the very one where he and Abbott had almost consummated their love back when they were teenagers. The coincidence was almost unbelievable, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was dealing with Billy Walker. They’d once gotten into a fist fight when they’d been in the eighth grade when Billy had pulled the American flag down from in front of the school and stomped on it, all in the name of Freedom of Speech. Wick hadn’t cared about the no fighting policy at school. He’d stomped Billy’s ass in front of everyone because he refused to have the American flag desecrated.
Two years later, when he’d been dating Abbott, he and Billy had crossed paths again, in the farmhouse off County Road Z. The man had looked at Abbott like she was a piece of meat, and Wick’s blood had boiled. When they’d graduated, he thought he didn’t have to think about Billy Walker any more.
He’d been so fucking wrong. It was time to end it, one way or another.
Wick parked his bike in front of the rundown house and killed the motor. The rumble ended, leaving a silence that grated on his nerves as he dismounted from his bike and drew his gun. He held his nine millimeter down at his side. Moving quickly to the nearest window, he peaked through the broken shards of glass that still hung in the rotten frame. Nothing moved and he almost thought he must be wrong. Surely if Billy wanted a showdown then it had to be something different than this place. Then a soft scrape came from somewhere inside, and he knew he hadn’t been wrong. Everything right and wrong had started in this house so it seemed like a fitting place to end it.
He brought his gun up and eased up the broken porch stairs to the door. He nudged it open a little with his foot, keeping to the side in case Billy had the bright idea to shoot at him, but when no bullets came flying his way, he cautiously glanced inside. Threadbare boots peaked from the living room, so Wick made his way forward, his senses on high alert. The stairs that led up to the second floor lay toward his left, but other than a quick once-over to ascertain they didn’t hide anyone, he made his way to the living room.
He spotted Billy sitting on the couch. Cords and wires lay scattered on the floor, along with the remains of three laptops that looked like a baseball bat had hit them multiple times. On the scuffed coffee table were an assortment of drug paraphernalia, including a spoon, lighter, and several aluminum foil packets. An open one contained a powdery substance.
Heroin. Billy’s drug of choice.
Keeping to the shadows, Wick watched as Billy prepared his dope. Heated the spoon. Picked up the needle. It really was a disgusting habit, shooting up, especially with track marks up and down the inside of his arm. How the man had held it togethe
r this long was a surprise. Most addicts spiraled out of control after a while, beyond the capabilities of stalking someone for eleven years. As the drug took hold of Billy, he dropped the needle on the sofa cushion and laid his head back, no doubt flying high in his chemical induced euphoria.
Wick waited a few more minutes, making sure he didn’t move before stepping from behind the protective covering. Billy didn’t even stir as he walked closer to him. Hate welled up inside Wick, powerful and all consuming. This was the man who had hurt Abbott. Who had stalked her to the point of madness. Everything Billy Walker touched was poisoned and it was time to clean up the toxicity that burned liked acid.
He placed the barrel of his gun against Billy’s forehead and his finger stiffened on the trigger, but a soft cry from somewhere upstairs had him pulling the weapon away and turning to where the staircase resided.
“Abbott,” he whispered.
Ignoring Billy, he ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. Going door to door, he found her trussed up in the back bedroom, thrashing around in delirium. Her left arm was swollen, the skin angry with inflammation. Red streaks were marked over her chest and she was sweating.
“God damn it,” he muttered. He hurried to the bed and sat down next to her, reaching for her. “Abbott!”
She was hot to the touch. So hot that panic overtook him for a moment. Holy shit, the asshole must have injected her with heroin. She’d told him once she was allergic to it, and by the way she was reacting, it certainly looked like her body was rejecting the stuff. Now he was fearful that anaphylaxis would settle in. He dug into her jeans pocket and found the little compartment that held the antihistamine slips she always carried. Taking one of the very thin films, he opened her mouth and placed it on her tongue, hoping to God it worked until he could get her medical help. Scooping her up, he turned and rushed back down the stairs. As he came to the bottom, he saw Billy looking at them, head lolled on the back of the couch and a blank expression covering his face.
Wicked Man (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 2) Page 8
