Page 98 of Protected from Malice
I close the app and call her number, desperately hoping she’ll answer. That she’ll sheepishly explain she accidentally triggered the alert. Maybe an earring got caught in her hair. Maybe one fell out and she stepped on it.
But she doesn’t answer.
Not the first time I call, or the second or third.
I’m flying down the road, speeding a good twenty miles over the speed limit. Weaving around cars, darting between lanes, anything to get to Eden’s house faster.
Adrenaline courses through me. Every muscle in my body feels like a tensed spring about to explode. Pain shoots through my clenched jaw and down my neck. My hands are locked on the steering wheel. My heart is hammering in frantic drumbeats, echoing through my head.
I need to get to Eden. Now.
As I zip past a road marker, I curse out loud. Ten more miles. Fuck. Ten more fucking miles.
Anything could happen in the time it takes to get there.
The exit is just ahead, and I take it without slowing. My tires squeal in revolt.
Now that I’m off the highway, I sort through all the possible routes to get to Eden’s house, trying to work out the best one.Not just the shortest in distance, but the one with the least likelihood of me being pulled over by the police.
Just as I make a quick right turn, my phone rings.
There’s a moment when I think,Eden! She’s calling to say she’s okay.
But less than a second later, reality comes crashing in. It’s not her ringtone. It’s one of my teammates calling.
Which, fuck, ofcourseit is. In my panic—me, who never panics about anything—I forgot about my team.
I answer the call, skipping any pretense of greeting to bark, “I’m on my way back to Eden’s. Maybe”—I glance at my surroundings—“eight more minutes. Have you heard anything? Did she call you? What?—”
Indy cuts me off. “I haven’t heard anything.” Tension strains his voice. “Last time I talked to Eden was last night. Was she okay when you left? Did she say?—”
“She was fine,” I interrupt. My normally confident tone is tight with fear. “She said she was going to do some cleaning. I promised to pick up food for brunch. And I even asked her not to go outside without me, just to be safe.”
“Well she’snot,” Indy snaps. “Obviously. What the?—”
He stops. There’s a momentary rumble of two voices arguing. Then Tyler takes over. “We’re on the way,” he says. “We’re headed to the parking garage now. But it’ll take us at least thirty minutes to get there. I’ve called the police?—”
“Fuck the police. I’ll get there first. You know it’s better that way. If there’s someone hurting Eden…”
I don’t have to finish it. Tyler knows.
“Of course,” he answers briskly. “Indy will be driving, so I can pull up the security cameras in the meantime. Figure out what’s going on.”
Right. Because Tyler has access to all the cameras around Eden’s house. “Have you seen anything yet?” I ask. “An intruder?”
“I’m working on it,” he replies. “As soon as we get in the car, I will.”
I take another corner, this time fast enough for my tires to skid.
Five minutes now. Maybe four, if I really push it.
Fear claws at me, shredding my chest into ribbons. Stealing my breath.
All the hopes I had…
What if it’s too late?
What if I get there and Eden’s already gone?
