Page 94 of Unguarded

“Damn. For the better?”

“I’m talking about my feelings, aren’t I?”

Our conversation is interrupted by the buzzing of Holden’s phone. He swipes on the screen to answer it.

“Hello, beautiful.” The smile fades from his face.

Shit.

Rosie’s pregnancy has already been hard. Between her condition and Dolly’s heart defects, there’s no telling what went wrong.

Holden slams the beer down on the bar and spins around, signaling to Duke, Sterling, and Sam as he marches toward the exit. “Where is he now?”

“Where is who?” My stomach drops.

We shouldn’t have left them alone.

“What’s up?” Sterling’s face is hard. Our younger brother has done some growing up since he left home for the Marines.

Holden still has his phone pressed to his ear as we storm through the parking lot, rain falling on us. I unlock my truck, and we all climb in, except Sam.

“What happened?” Duke asks.

Holden clenches his jaw. His eyes meet mine briefly, and the fear in their depths makes my throat constrict. My brother isn’t afraid of much.

“Sam, you and Duke go in your truck. Follow us and call Sterling. We’re going hunting, boys.”

The engine roars to life, and we take off down the street. My phone screen is still black.

“What was he driving? Which direction did he go?” Holden says.

I wrap my hands around the steering wheel, making the last turn toward the ranch. The dirt road we’re on will take us right up to the gate in ten miles. My speedometer climbs close to ninety miles an hour before he points a finger out the windshield at an approaching vehicle.

“Rosie, what was the license plate? Did it start with anH? Okay, baby, breathe. Help Dolly. We’ll be home as soon as we can.”

“What’s wrong with Dolly?” Sterling leans forward.

My heart races. My sister’s heart condition has the potential to turn critical at any point. My boot lifts off the pedal, slowing us down more. I reach into my console,pulling out my nine millimeter. In the back seat, I hear Sterling grabbing the rifle hanging on the window. Holden is always strapped. Tonight is no exception.

“That one—run him off the road,” Holden instructs, pointing at the black van approaching us.

I swerve, skidding toward the side and taking up the majority of the road and forcing the van off on the shoulder. He doesn’t slow down. Instead, he tries going around us.

“Stop that fucker, Sam!” Holden roars at Sterling’s phone, where Sam and Duke have been listening on speakerphone.

“Don’t flip it! She could be in the back,” I yell at the phone.

It’s too late. In my rearview, I see Sam’s black dually truck hit the van head-on. His grill guard on the front end smashes into the van at about thirty miles an hour. My heart jumps in my throat. My truck spins around and nearly hits the fence. It’s muddy from the continual rain, but I flip it into four-wheel drive and reverse back onto the road. I want to stop him without risking hurting whoever might be in the back of the van.

“Don’t let him go. It’s your girl’s stalker.” Then, he says into his phone, “We got him, Rosie. He’s not getting away.”

Adrenaline spikes in my veins. I hit the accelerator, ramming the front of my truck into the side of the van, crushing the side of the body and nearly flipping it on its side. Sam’s truck is still smashing the front end, slowly pushing the van into the fence.

I can see into the driver’s seat of the van now, but all I can make out is the silhouette of a dark-haired man. Monroedescribed the man’s face to me when he broke into her hotel room, but the only defining feature of his description was a notch in his left ear, like he’d had a piercing ripped out.

Is she in the van?My pulse races, my fingertips tingling. This was the only way to stop him, but if she’s injured I’ll never forgive myself.

“Is she in the van? Holden! Is she in the van?”

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