Page 82 of Every Single Vow
I glance at my father. “I’m not sitting around.”
“I know, but we need to let them do their….”
Ping.
Dakota’s phone pings, and Jefferson’s face pales when he sees the screen.
“What?” I bark.
“We have a problem.” He turns the screen to me.
I’m not prepared for the sight in front of me. I’m not prepared to see the love of my life, wrists bound, mouth gagged, lying on dingy green carpet. The text that reads below is what has me nearly buckling to the dirt.
Unknown: Two hours. Ridge Race Track. $500,000 cash. Bring the money or she pays. With blood. No cops.
“How the fuck does he expect us to come up with that kind of cash?” I scoff, before yanking open the door to my truck. “Like I would even give it to him if I had it.”
“Where are you going, Cooper?” My dad asks, his tone serious.
“To the trailer.” I slide into my seat. “I’d know that nasty carpet anywhere.”
“Shit,” Ryder mutters. “I’ll go with you.”
“Boys,” my dad scolds.
We lock eyes. He knows I’m going after my wife regardless of what he tells me.
“You two go.” He motions. “I’ll go with Jefferson. Work on the money.”
With his quick nod, we spin out, slinging dirt behind my truck as we head to the highway.
“What’s your plan?” Ryder asks.
“Kill that fucker and get my wife back.” I turn right, racing down main St.
A few heads turn as we zip past, but my eyes are focused on the sign about half a mile up the road.Mayson Ridge Mobile Home Park.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Coop. She may not even be there.”
My hands grip the wheel, my skin hot as we sail through the entrance to the park, gunning it to the fifth trailer on the right.
When I slide to a stop, we both jump out, our boots pounding on the overgrown lawn as we rush the trailer door. My hand finds the knob first, and I practically rip it off the hinges when I storm through.
“Kota!” I shout.
The living room is empty, along with the kitchen.
“Kota!” I call again as Ryder heads to the back.
Nothing. She’s gone.
My palm rubs against my chest; the ache back as I survey the room.
My eyes catch on something along the carpet. Crouching down, I squint, letting my fingers dust over the tint on the fibers.
Is that…...
Blood.
