Page 90 of I'm Yours

“I got your back. Whatever you need,” Justin murmurs and I glance at him.

“Thanks, man.”

He simply nods.

We come to a stop and before I get out, I reach below my seat and remove my handgun from the locked box I keep it in. We pile out, walking straight up to Goodman. He doesn’t react to seeing both Justin and myself carrying. We have our permits.

My first instinct is to take the lead, run to the other side of the trees, and find my girl but I’m too scared of the possibilities of what could happen if I storm in on my own. This can’t be the end for us. We have a lifetime ahead of us and I won’t accept anything else.

A woman runs up to Samuel from the car I didn’t recognize. “Kandace,” he groans. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“That’s my best friend. You think I wouldn’t be here?”

“It’s not safe,” he presses.

“I’m good,” she says, pointing to her hip to where a gun is holstered.

Justin chuckles next to me, shaking his head. “Gotta love a Montana woman.” He grins at her and holds out a hand. “Hi, gorgeous. I’m Justin.”

She looks him up and down and shakes his hand. “Hey, handsome. I’m Kandace.”

I whisper angrily, “Hey. Lovebirds. Can we focus?”

Justin winks at her and walks back to me. I don’t know whether to be annoyed, pissed, or just indifferent by that whole exchange.

Goodman starts issuing orders, reminding those of us with civilian status to let them do their job and that we’re only here because he’s allowing us to be. I roll my eyes. “We’re here because there’s no way you could have stopped us.”

“Just stay clear. Let us go in. That’s our sheriff.”

Justin and I share a look and I wonder what he means by that.

Goodman and the four men who are with him huddle together then take off in different directions, guns drawn as they make it to a clearing on the other side of the trees. We follow quietly and come to an old cabin with what looks to be a small shop or garage next to it a few feet away. One of the cops who’s approaching from the opposite side of the garage gets Goodman’s attention and points.

My body is strung tight, every cell telling me to run forward. A hand lands on my forearm and I look over. Justin’s shaking his head and pulls me to a stop. “Let them do their job.”

“Like I’m supposed to trust them?” I growl through a whisper. “It’s their boss who they think kidnapped Sadie.”

“Their boss. Not them,” he reminds me but it does nothing to ease the tension coiled tight. “I know,” Justin says. “I know how you feel about her. Just don’t do anything to fuck it up. They want to help, let them.”

I swallow hard and take a deep breath then blow it out, steam billowing around me, and walk a few more feet as I see the five men in uniform getting closer to the cabin and garage. The air around us is still, as if the earth knows not to mess with us right now, there’s no wind. No birds chirping. Not a sound. The temperature is cold, but I don’t feel it.

I’m seconds away from saying fuck it and charging ahead when I hear gunfire. After everything we’ve been through. After all the time that separated us, this can’t be the end. I have to find her alive. There’s no other option.

Like I’m the one being shot at, I take off running faster than I’ve ever ran before in my life. I trip over a piece of wood, catching myself before I fall to the ground. Two cops bust through the cabin door while the other three, Goodman included, charge into the garage.

I hear shouts and more gunfire then a woman’s scream.

Sadie.

It’s Sadie’s scream.

“Sadie!”

When I get a few feet away from the garage, the two cops that were in the house are coming out, guns still drawn as they lead the way into the garage. I want to push them aside but the fear of making the situation worse keeps me trailing behind.

Goodman is barking orders for someone to call an ambulance but the second I make it into the garage, all I see is Sadie. Tied to a pole in the corner of the room, tears streaking down her beautiful face.She’s alive.I almost crumble to the floor in thanks.

Her right eye is red and swollen, blood coming out of her mouth like she’s been hit or punched in the face more than once and my heart feels like it’s cracked in two. It kills me to see her like this. She’s hurt, no doubt emotionally as well as physically. But all that matters is she’s alive.

---