Page 29 of Buried in Blood
“I might be able to help,” he says.
Pause.
“But I don’t do shit for free.”
I force myself to hold his stare.
“What do you want?”
His eyes drag down my body. Slow. Starving.
Then flick back to mine.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
14
Harmony
Monday, 12:25 p.m.
The sun is too bright.
Too hot.
Too loud.
It makes everything feel exposed, like even the trees are watching me fail in real time.
“I already checked this side of the greenhouse,” I mutter, pushing through overgrown ivy that tangles around my ankles like it’s trying to drag me down with it.
“Check it again,” Reese calls from somewhere behind me. His voice bounces off the glass panels and hits me like a slap across the face.
I whip around. “I told you—”
He steps out from behind a tall hedge, sweat glistening on his brow, shirt damp at the collar. He looks as irritated as I feel.
“You told me a lot of things,” he says coolly. “None of them ended with you finding the girl.”
I clench my jaw and keep moving. There’s no time to argue. Damien could be back in an hour. Or a minute. And if I’m not standing at the door with Brooke smiling and presentable, I’m going on that fucking stageinstead.
We’ve checked every building. The garage. The old barn. The pool house. The root cellar smells like something has already died in it.
Nothing.
“She’s not here,” I say, spinning in a slow circle near the tree line. My throat tightens as I scan the edge of the woods again, like maybe this time she’ll magically appear. “She’s not—”
Reese grabs my wrist. Not hard, but firm enough to make me stop spiraling.
“Look at me.”
I do. I hate that I do.
“She’s here,” he says, voice low. “She didn’t run far. She wouldn’t make it half a mile barefoot. If she’s not here, she’s hiding. Or someone’s hiding her.”
The implication sends a jolt through me.
“Are you saying someone helped her?”
