Page 22 of Vengeful Pawn

With feet dangling off the ground and my throat so constricted, I can’t inhale properly. I claw at his hands, scraping until he bleeds, only angering him further.

“Where the fuck is she?” he snaps in my face. The rage in his eyes is petrifying, and my mind blanks.

“Who?” I gasp painfully.

“Rebecca Harding. My fucking wife. My fucking children.” He shakes me roughly. “Where the fuck are they!” he screams again, as my vision blurs, on the cusp of blacking out.

CHAPTER 15

Hendrix

Driving across the Perdido Bay Bridge back into Florida, my phone chimes with text notifications before the ringer blows up.

“Grab that?” I ask Bishop, recognizing the importance if they can’t wait for me to respond.

“Your mom,” he says before hitting the answer button. “Hey, aunty, we’re almost at Paradise Beach.”

“No time,” she interrupts, and I immediately press harder on the pedal. “Mia went to Haven House because Coral called, and now, I can’t get her on the phone. There was an intruder. I called the police, but I don’t know what’s happening.” Her sobs at the end set me on edge.

Bayou Cove is twenty-five minutes out; we’ll be there in fifteen. “We’ll get there, Ma. Is anyone else on their way?”

“Hadley and Ashton were in the area already. I called Easton, too. Aria and the boys left this afternoon for the airport.” Hearing my mother cry hurts, but I need to block that out.

“I’ll call you once I’ve got eyes on her, Mom.”

Bishop hangs up as I blow through the red light of a busy intersection, horns blaring in our wake.

“Want me to call Castle?” Bishop asks, and I shake my head. Until I know what’s happening with Mia and that she and the baby are all right, I can’t care about anyone else.

Christ, how do I cope if something were to happen to either of them? The guilt and shame that’s been there for so many years come roaring back, and my body readies itself to be tossed back in time.

Fighting off the emotions nearly cause me to slam into a gravel truck as I burst through another intersection.

“Jesus,” Bish mutters, making the sign of the cross and glaring at me.

“Sorry,” I mutter, renewing my focus and getting a grip on myself while trying not to lose sight of the present and what’s most important.

The closer we get, the tenser I grow, and my breathing becomes labored, expecting the worst.

“Slow down, man,” Bishop warns as we enter the neighborhood. Cops are everywhere. Not just standing in front of the house, but searching the yards and streets, as well.

Rolling to a stop outside the blocked-off perimeter, I take a cleansing breath like I’ve been working on, not wanting to get stressed enough that I’m back on those streets in Iraq.

As soon as we exit the truck, four officers approach us, one holding his hand up. I ignore it. “My wife runs Haven House. She was checking on one of the girls when my mother lost contact with her. You’re not keeping me out.” Who cares how many lies fly from my mouth; they all back off, and I’m able to sprint up the block to find Mia.

“Mia!” No response. “MiaBella!” I try again, catching the attention of nearly everyone around me, but not the woman I need to lay eyes on.

Dashing up the front steps, a pool of blood spreads next to the front door, and my own runs cold with renewed fear.

“Hendrix?” I spin at Coral’s soft voice. She is sitting on a couch in the living room with Easton standing guard behind her.

“Where’s Mia?” It’s difficult to keep the growl from my voice. I’m unsure if I’m successful, and I can’t bring myself to care just yet.

“They took her away in an ambulance about five minutes ago,” Easton says, and I nearly choke.

“Which hospital?”

“Can I come?” Coral asks, fresh tears streaking down her face. “She saved my life.”

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