Page 106 of Hold the Line

Floorboards creaked loud enough under his feet for me to hear them. “Shit.Fuck.This isn’t good.”

Then chaos exploded through the speaker.

Shouts, scuffling, Phoebe screaming, Richie cursing, another man yelling…

The unmistakable crack of a gunshot.

The call cut off.

I stared at the black screen in my hand, pulse hammering in my ears. Before I could move, Caleb snatched the phone and pressed it to his ear. His jaw tightened. “He’s not picking up.” His voice was raw, furious. “Where the hell is my sister?”

“Richie took Phoebe?” Joy asked.

A strange numbness spread through my limbs. “A gun went off.” My voice sounded foreign, distant.

Joy was already reaching for her phone. “I’m calling the police.”

Caleb’s hand fell on my shoulder, forcing me back into the moment. “You know where she is?”

I nodded.

That had been a gunshot. Phoebe had screamed before…then nothing.Nothing.

Caleb’s jaw rippled with barely restrained fury. “We’re not gonna wait around for the police. They can follow us.” His grip intensified. “You and I are going to get my sister back.”

Chapter Forty-four

Phoebe

Terrorrippedascreamfrom my throat as the door exploded inward with a single, brutal kick, wood splintering, leaving it hanging on its hinges. The man who’d entered loomed over me, over Richie, over the entire broken-down kingdom of this miserable place. A storm in human form, he was massive and angry.

Dark, furious eyes cut through the dirt and shadows, sweeping the space before locking onto me then Richie.

“Shit,” Richie cried, jumping backward. “No, fuck, it’s not what it looks like. Fuck, I…just let me explain.”

“I’d ask where my money is, but I already know you don’t have it.” The man leveled his gun on Richie, steady and mean. “Time’s up, motherfucker.”

Richie flailed his free hand, the one not holding the phone still dangling at his side, and edged in front of me. “No, no, fuck—you gotta gimme a little more time. I got this—”

A gunshot cracked the stale air, and Richie went down, clutching his knee and cursing a maelstrom of expletives. The phone lay discarded beside him, my only connection to Deacon severed. It was better this way. I didn’t want him to hear this happening.

When he found me, it would be bad enough—no, I wouldn’t let myself imagine that.

I swallowed my panic and pleaded like Richie in my head.

You gotta give me a little more time with Deacon.

I’m not ready for this to end.

Injured and bleeding everywhere, Richie dragged himself to his feet, putting himself back in front of me. On purpose? I doubted it. Richie wasn’t the noble sort.

The man cocked his head. “You got a girl tied to a chair?” He had an accent. Eastern European, maybe? Not from Wyoming, that was for sure. I wasn’t about to waste my last moments trying to figure it out. I yanked at my bindings, my pulse hammering. One last ditch effort to save myself.

“She’s my collateral. My guy’s gonna get the job done.” Richie doubled over in agony, breathing hard. “Christ, I’m bleeding out here, Saint. How am I gonna get that money if I bleed to death?”

“Don’t care.” Saint waved his gun carelessly, then took aim and shot Richie in the arm.

Richie jerked, clutching his wounded bicep as he stumbled sideways, leaving trails of blood in his wake. Saint bit his bottom lip like he was waiting to see what happened next.

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