Page 81 of The Chief
“Because she’s Cait,” I replied in a murmur. “Nobody gets to dim your sister’s light.”
Slipping from her hold, I exited the car and found Mila waiting.
She was lip-synching into the end of the Glock like it was a microphone, singing a song I’d never heard before. When she saw me, she holstered the weapon and flashed me a who-gives-a-shit smile.
“You make a habit of singing into semi-automatic weapons?”
“Only when I’m waiting for someone.”
A mad yoke, indeed.
“Stay behind me at all times. And don’t speak, either. The second they hear your accent, they’ll know where you’ve come from.”
“But Gael already knows about me.”
That was true, but I had a hunch. “Maybe his son doesn’t. Come on.”
Walking along the roadway, I kept the dry-stone wall to my right, following it to the opening of the driveway. The stretch of compacted dirt and gravel continued for at least fifty feet until the silhouette of an old farmhouse came into view.
“Fuck me, what is that smell?” Mila asked in a hissed whisper.
Looking over my shoulder, I found her covering her nose with her arm. “Rotting hay. Animal shite. Who the fuck knows what else.”
Remaining close to the wall, I moved closer to the building. There didn’t appear to be any lights on inside, but that didn’t mean it was deserted. Off to the left was an outbuilding that looked like a barn. Battling indecision, I moved toward the barn. If I was going to stash someone, that’s where I would do it.
The smell of rot and decay worsened as we moved inside, as my boots disturbed the molding hay on the ground. It was dark as pitch, but I wasn’t about to alert Owen to my presence with the light on my phone. I navigated the perimeter of the room, straining to hear any sound that didn’t belong. To Mila’s credit, she kept her mouth shut.
When I’d cleared the barn, we exited. It was full dark now, and the moon was tucked behind a cloud, not providing any substantial light. Motioning for Mila to stop, I gestured to the house and said, “I’ll go inside. You stay here.”
Even in the dim light, I could see her frown. “Doesn’t seem like the smartest thing to me, but okay. I can’t hear anyone here. Maybe they’ve left?”
“If they have, staying outside would be easier anyway, right?”
Her frown deepened for a moment, then smoothed out. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the area before turning back. “I’m going to take cover behind that ancient tractor over there, ‘kay?”
“Stay there, Mila, no matter what you hear,” I warned.
She shot me a look. “You think I can’t help because I’m a woman?”
Fuck me. “I don’t want to drag you into this anymore than I already have, so do me a fucking favor, and stay put.”
A mega-watt smile appeared on her face. “You like me,” she announced. “And want to keep me safe.”
I didn’t have time for this shit. “Stay. Put.”
She started in its direction, throwing over her shoulder, “Only because you like me so much.”
Shaking my head, I turned back to the house. The front door was ajar, just enough room for me to slip inside without moving it and possibly making the hinges squeal. The smell improved a little inside the old farmhouse, but the lighting did not. If anything, the shadows seemed to darken.
My boots sounded like gunshots on the wooden boards as I walked through the old kitchen. No doubt Owen already knew I was here, so I didn’t dampen them now. In fact, I was fucking annoyed at how much of a coward the fucker was being. Feeling along the walls, I found a light switch and flipped it on.
Nothing happened.
That was when I heard it—a muffled cry which sent a visceral reaction pulsing through me.
Marching forward, I pulled out my phone and switched on the light, shining it around the living room. The space was emptyexcept for an ancient grand piano and a single dining chair set in the center of the room with Molly tied to it.
A gag was fastened over her mouth, and dried blood crusted her hairline. Her arms were bound behind her back, her shoulders torqued at an unnatural angle. Her blue eyes were wide as she tried to shout something through the gag. Rushing forward, I yanked the old strip of fabric from her mouth and lowered it past her chin to dangle from her delicate neck.
