Page 117 of One Spicy Summer

Shouting.

Footsteps.

Making it outside, I see the passenger side of Rafe’s car crash open, and there he is, Kemper, standing to his full height as he exits the car like he owns it. A snarl pulls at the corner of his lips.

Rafe closes in, coming to stand beside me.

“Kemper,” I spit, fingers tightening around the handle of my weapon. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where the hell she is, or this is going to get real ugly for you.”

He laughs, deep and twisted, the kind of laugh that comes from someone who knows they’re already dead inside. “You think I’m scared of you, Rygaard? I know what you’re capable of. But that bitch, she’s already gone. And you’re too fucking weak to stop us from doing whatever we want with her.”

Rage explodes through my veins, clouding my thoughts with violence.

I lunge at him, faster than he can react. My fist connects with the side of his face, the sickening crack of bone splitting the air. Kemper stumbles back, his nose bleeding, but the grin never leaves his face. "You really think you can intimidate me, Rygaard?"

I snap my leg out, kicking him hard in the chest, sending him crashing into the car. He grunts, but he’s still standing. The bastard’s tough, but not tough enough.

Rafe steps in, his voice cold and determined. “Tell us where she is, Kemper. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

Kemper spits blood onto the ground, sneering. “You think I’m gonna tell you shit?” He lunges at Rafe, but I’m already on him, throwing a brutal punch into his gut that leaves him gasping. The stench of sweat and blood fills the open space.

Kemper tries to retaliate, but I’m faster. I slam him into the ground, pinning him down with my knee against his chest. “Where. Is. She?” I growl, the words dripping with venom.

Kemper’s eyes narrow, but there’s no fight left in him. He knows he’s about to lose, knows he’s out of time. “Fine,” he rasps, his voice gravelly from the pain. “There’s a motel. Off Route 12. Room 707. That’s where she’s at.”

I don’t let up, tightening my grip around his throat, cutting off his air supply. He gasps, but I’m done listening to his lies. I need Presley back.

With one final squeeze, his body goes limp. He’s still alive.

Barely.

Rafe stands over me, his eyes hard. “We got what we needed. We’ll dump him in an alley somewhere. Someone’s bound to find him.”I don’t answer. I stand, wiping my hands on my jeans, the rage simmering in every muscle. We’re not done yet. Keifer’s not dead, but the war’s just begun.

I look at Rafe, my voice a low growl. “Let’s go get her.”

And together, we head out into the night, nothing but rage and blood driving us forward.

Minutes later, we’re peeling out, headlights off, silence heavier than a loaded gun.

“You think she’s okay?” Rafe mutters, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“She’s my Little Hellion,” I grit out. “She’s stronger than he could ever imagine. But if he got her outta that house... He didn’t do it clean.”

"You think he, ?"

"He drugged her. Had to. There's no fucking way he took her otherwise."

Rafe slams his fist against the wheel. "Motherfucker!"

I nod grimly. “She’s been training. She would’ve ripped him apart with her bare hands if she could.”

“I just hope we aren’t too late.” His voice cracks on the edges.

I glance out the window, jaw clenching. “If that piece of shit wanted her dead, she’d already be in a body bag. No. He wants heralive. He wants toownher again.”

“Fuck!” Rafe snarls, pounding the dash. “And every second he keeps her drugged, she gets weaker.”

“She won't stay weak for long. I’ve got a team ready to clean her system out again if it gets to that. She’s not going back to the hell she crawled out of. I won’t let that happen.”

---