Page 121 of Debt of My Soul

“Do you know if my parents are okay?” I ask for the fourth time. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I need them safe.

The agent doesn’t answer me.

Blood catches my eye, and a man who looks vaguely familiar is escorted by. His eyes are swollen, black and blue, and he’s half keeled over, but when his eyes meet mine, I swear he recognizes me too.

The wind picks up, whipping my braid into my face and when I bat it away, the man has been lost to the sea of black tactical gear. More police, both FBI and DEA, move boxes and bins into the warehouse, then emerge with full containers and march them onto a cargo truck they managed to back in here.

“… damn pigs! Get your hands off me!”

I recognize Blitz’s voice and I follow the sound I’d never think to want to hear, seeing him wrestled into a SWAT box truck. He’shandcuffed and they chain his feet to steel loops welded to the truck bed.

“Blitz!” I yell, trying to get his attention, but the wind carries my voice off, unheard. I move, my babysitter snatches my arm, and I tug and yank, methodically searching the crowds. Then I see him.

Trip.

His eyes are red and dried tears are plastered to his pocked face. An agent leads him to the same box truck as Blitz and I push forward.

“Trip!”

His eyes dart up searching out the voice calling to him. When his eyes meet mine, he snarls, then seeing my frantic search around him, he chuckles.

“Where’s Liam?” I yell. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he throws his head back and laughs—laughs until the agent behind him grips his tawny hair and throws him in the back of the truck.

A black SUV rolls next to the SWAT truck and two agents push a man to the back seat. When he looks up, my eyes meet Darrin’s. Those dual-colored eyes bright against his dark skin look sad, defeated. He holds my stare for several beats. No malice. No recognition.

They’re blank as if he’s already checked out.

I don’t know the sentencing for an operation this big, but I know prison isn’t kind. The thought makes me sick, and I shake off his stare to continue my search, but I don’t have to look any further.

Dirty-blond hair, pulled half into a bun dawns my vision, and I skip past the cut on his forehead to his wide eyes as he takes me in.

I gasp, throwing a hand over my mouth.

“Liam,” I whisper.

Tears well in my eyes and I can’t resist the urge to plow through the group of agents. I bolt, dodging another agent who reaches out to secure me.

“Stop!” he yells, but I don’t listen.

I run to Liam, desperate to touch him, to feel he’s okay.

He quickens his pace too, and in a matter of seconds, I collide with his solid chest, gripping it for dear life.

“Liam,” I sob, at the same time he says my name.

His hand comes to cradle my head, crushing me to his heart. The rapid pounding beats against my ear, and I relish the sound. I count each one, afraid I’ll never hear it again.

After a minute, I rip myself away from him, touching his body, looking for any signs of injury. There’s a cut on his forehead and a graze on his leg, but he’s alive. I glance up at him.

Terror and relief swirl in his eyes.

“I thought—” I try, but the words die as more tears fall.

“Are you hurt?” His voice quivers and I can’t handle it.

“No,” I whisper and I pull his face to mine. When my lips meet his, my body melts into the safety of his arms. His mouth is dry, and I taste the salty sweat beaded on his upper lip. More tears slide down, the taste mingling with him?—

An arm jerks me back, the agent finally getting ahold of me.

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