Page 94 of Beautifully Broken Control

Walker screeched to a stop behind a patrol car, and we all jumped out. Jensen was holding Kennedy’s dog in her arms, tears streaking down her face while Taylor rubbed a hand up and down her back. Taylor took Chuck from J as we approached, knowing Tuck would be on the warpath.

He pulled Jensen into his arms. “Wilder, you’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Walker wrapped an arm around Taylor, pressing his lips to her hair. They had their women safe in their arms. Mine had never felt emptier. My skin burned with the memory of how Kennedy felt wrapped in my arms, flush against me.

Taylor kissed the bottom of Walker’s jaw. “I’m going to take Chuck to the vet. We think he might’ve broken his leg.”

Fuck.That would kill Kenz. That dog was like her child. I swallowed against the emotion building in my throat. “Take him to the best one. Here, let me give you my credit card.”

Taylor shook her head. “No. I’ve got this. I’ll take care of this little guy.” Her voice hitched. “You just find Kennedy.”

Emotion burned a fiery trail up my throat, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it in for long. Where was she? What was happening to her right at this very moment? Was she breathing?No. I wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t. I refused to think of a world without the light that was Kennedy.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.Unknown Numberflashed across the screen. A chill skittered down my spine. I showed it to Walker, who was instantly on alert. “Step away from the crowd and answer.”

We headed back towards his truck, and I hit accept. “Hello.”

“Cain Hale.” The voice was one of those automated deals, and the ice was back in my blood. “We have Kennedy. If you’d like her returned to you breathing and unharmed, we’ll require payment. The details have been emailed to you. You have twelve hours.”

The call ended. Twelve hours. Payment. My heart was at war with itself. Part of me was relieved. I had money. I could pay whatever they asked. But the other was stuck with the worst fear I’d ever felt. Because once I paid that ransom, what reason would they have to keep Kennedy alive?

41

Kennedy

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The curses were a drumbeat assault against my skull as if each one might cause the bones to fracture. The pain radiating out from my head seemed to make my entire body throb. I groaned and tried to roll over, away from the noise and the light and everything.

“Kennedy. Kennedy, are you okay?”

I groaned again. That voice. Why was he talking to me? And why did everything hurt?

“Kennedy, open your eyes.”

My lids fluttered, catching only snatches of images. A blurry figure standing over me. A man rubbing the side of his face. “Can’t. Hurts.” My voice was scratchy, my mouth felt like cotton. What had happened?

“Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—fuck!”

I winced at the volume of his voice. “Doug. Quiet.” He stilled and, in that moment, so did I. I searched my memory. Glimpses flickered through my mind. Wine with Jensen. Going upstairs. Showering. Someone grabbing me. My eyes flew open, and I tried to scramble away, but the movements were jerky at best because my hands and feet were tied with rope. My head jerked as I tried to take in my surroundings.

The movements turned the dull pain into sharp ice picks. I was on a bed. That knowledge alone had my stomach roiling. But my clothes were still in place. I wasn’t sore in that way. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I took in the man I’d trusted, one who I’d thought had nothing but good in him.

Doug held up both hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. I mean, I didn’t mean to hurt you—shit. I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

“What’s going on? Why am I here?” My voice was barely audible. Still raspy.

He reached for a bottle of water on a nightstand. “Here, drink some of this.” I shook my head. How would I know if he’d drugged it? Doug seemed to guess my train of thought and took a sip himself. “It’s fine, I promise.”

I hated the idea of drinking after him, but I was desperate. My throat felt as if I’d gone days without water. I nodded, and Doug helped me take a few sips. The liquid felt like heaven. “How long have I been here?”

He sat in a chair near the bed. “Just since last night.”

“Why am I here?” It was always the why that mattered most, and nothing I could think of was good.

Doug picked at the label on the bottle of water. “You won’t be here long. As soon as we get the money, we’ll be gone, and then we’ll send the police your location.”

My stomach pitched. Money. As soon as he got the money. Was this about my father? “Doug, I don’t have any money.” Panic started to set in. If he’d made a demand of my family, they sure as hell weren’t going to pay any ransom for me. My brother would probably tell them to go ahead and kill me.

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