Page 101 of The Wounded Warrior

“Oh, I’d pay for that privilege.” Was he baring his teeth?

“I know you would, but damn it, just stop pushing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His phone beeped and so did Jake’s.

Jake sighed, but pulled it out. “Let me check this.”

“Sure.” He grabbed his phone, opening the email notification. What showed up was a video—something shaky and blurry that cleared into a naked man laid out on the floor. A young guy who looked hella familiar.

Luke frowned, watching as the camera shook a little, then cleared again.

“This is our little initiate. He thinks he can run with the big boys.”

A foot shot out and the man was kicked, flipped over, and the birthmark on the back of the lean shoulder proved who it was.

“Rory.”

Rory staredat the video as it played out on his phone, then grabbed his keys. He had to get out of here.

That was the only thing he could think to do. He headed out the door, thanking God Lori was getting her nails done for her lunch break.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew his Mustang would take him there. It had to.

That video had gone to his parents, his sisters, the sheriff, Lori, all the LeBlancs.

Maybe he could go to the lake. His mom’s family had a place at Lake Travis. The key was at the real estate management office.

In seconds, he was on I-30, barreling west, the road seeming to swim. Rory blinked, trying to clear up his vision. He couldn’t do this. Not again.

No thinking. None. Just drive. Turn the radio up and drive.

Turn the radio up and fucking drive.

Chapter Thirty-One

Luke called Rory and it went straight to voicemail.

Jake had watched the video they’d both been sent, then sprung into motion. He sent the email to his tech guys to try to figure out where the anonymous email had come from, then sent a deputy to collect Doug Harris. The video showed incontrovertible truth that Harris had abused Rory. In a criminal way.

For a long minute or two, Luke had fought the urge to puke. Then he’d fought the urge to go kill Harris.

When he finally figured out Rory had gotten the email too, he started calling.

“Come on, babe. Answer your phone.”

“Rory, we can deal with this, answer the phone.”

“Call me, you asshole. I need to see you.”

Then he called Matt. He needed a ride. He swore to God, he was going to try driving. He’d avoided it long enough.

His one leg was strong enough, and if it didn’t work he’d trick out his old truck with an assistive kit.

“Luke? Luke, what the hell is going on?”

“Jesus. You got it too?” He hadn’t seen past Rory.

“Yes. Mom too. What the fuck was that?”

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