Page 52 of Until Presley

“Track your wives’ phones,” I tell them as I put mine on speaker phone. The voices are growing more muffled and quieter, as if they are walking away.

I open the Find My app and search for Presley’s location. She’s at the research facility and university.

“My wife is at the house still,” Tyler says and calls her.

“Mine is showing she’s across town.”

I look at it, and sure enough, she’s at the facility too.

“Goddammit. Come on.”

“Madi said Presley was called into work, and Morgan went with her to make sure she didn’t stay too long.”

As I’m about to jump into our new SUV, my phone pings with another incoming call. I recognize the number, so I merge the calls.

“Special Agent Harkness, you better tell me that you have the serial killer in your hands, because my wife was just called to the research facility, and something weird is going on. I heard a man tell her and her friend to leave their purses in the car. That’s where their guns are.”

“There are two of them, and we just pulled up here. One of them called, turning himself in and turning on the other. We are going in,” Harkness says, huffing and puffing, as I hear footfalls on pavement.

“Gunshot,” Special Agent Brownley yells, and I’m in motion.

“I’ll stay with the kids and call Walker to help,” Tyler says, but I don’t acknowledge him. I’m worried about my wife and Jack’s.

I take off fast and make it across the island in less than ten minutes. I don’t care if I get a ticket. I care about my wife and child. Jackson is in the passenger seat calling Morgan, but the phone keeps going to voicemail. Finally, she picks up.

“Jack.” Her voice comes across the line in huffs. “Get us some help. Professor Blackman and George are the serial killers.”

“Where is Presley? We are pulling up now.” I slam the car into park and jump out without turning it off. As I run for the entrance, I hear gunshots and pull the gun I’ve been carrying at my back.

I enter the building, spotting the FBI agents and a body on the ground.

“Freeze,” they both yell, and then their guns are discharging. My girl and Morgan are screaming. I rush around the corner and see the girls covering their bodies while the agents are standing over the professor.

I move toward my wife and lift her into my arms. I hold her to me, thanking everything above that she’s okay. She clutches at me and cries. I turn to see Jack has his wife in his arms too.

I’m never letting her out of my sight again if I can help it.

An hour later, we’re sitting in a hospital room, getting Presley and the baby checked over. Both are fine, but I don’t want to leave until the doctor thoroughly checks her over.

“I’m okay, Ham.” Presley leans back in the bed. She has a few scrapes and bruises, but she didn’t get shot.

Both Professor Blackman and George are dead. Blackman died laughing that he would be famous. I wanted to kick him in the face, but I needed to get my wife out of there.

“Sprite, I’m not going to believe you’re okay until they’ve run every test to confirm it. I can’t lose you or our baby.” I lean over her and kiss her forehead, trying to keep my emotions in check. I thought the worst we would deal with was her sister, but to have a pair of serial killers come after her…

George left behind a detailed journal that explained everything. It described how Professor Blackman had caughthim in a compromising position with a sedated female student. Rather than reporting the incident, Blackman used it as leverage, shaping George into the ideal partner—someone he could share his skills and knowledge with.

My gut churns at the thought of what they had in mind for my wife. The sick fucks considered her their ultimate prize. They’d planned to continue targeting and killing women who resembled Presley. Her marrying me accelerated their plans to go after her.

“Okay.” The doctor walks in, and I shake off my thoughts. “After looking over the ultrasound and checking all the other tests, Mrs. Martinez, I’m happy to tell you that both you and your baby are in good health.”

“Thank God.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

EPILOGUE ONE

PRESLEY

OVER A YEAR LATER

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