Forgotten Sins (Sin Brothers, #1)(58)

Holding her nose, she skirted the edge of the wood and glanced behind the stack.

She screamed. Billy lay on his back, his eyes wide and unseeing at the ceiling, a hole in the center of his head. His hands were tied in front of him, his wrists rubbed raw.

Dead.

Coughing, Josie forced bile down. Her mind sheeted white, and she stumbled back. Why wasn’t he in rehab?

She shook her head. Focus. She needed to focus. They’d killed Billy.

Silence descended outside the stifling room.

She slowly turned around, her heart pounding. She glanced up. Where was a vent? Way up, in the wall. No way could she reach so high.

Her mind scrambled.

Something hit the outside wall. Hard. She yelped, jumping back. Toward Billy.

“That’s right, little girl. I’m coming,” George bellowed. Something slammed into the wall again, and dust flew.

He was going to tear down the wall. Maybe he’d hit electrical wires and fry himself. Was that even possible?

She needed to think. Think, damn it.

Her fingers hurt. Breath heaved in and out of her lungs. She eyed Billy.

A large thump echoed, and Sheetrock dust flew toward her. Panic had her gasping. George would be inside soon. Why hadn’t she spent two years learning karate instead of yoga?

She slid the razor closed and put the tool in her pocket. With a gulp of a swallow, Josie fell to her knees, reaching for Billy’s pockets. Hopefully he had a weapon.

Nothing in his front pockets.

Closing her eyes, breathing through her nose, she yanked him to the side to check his back pockets.

A phone!

She grabbed the cell, punching in numbers to her office with slippery fingers. Hopefully Shane was there. If not, Vicki would pick up. Billy fell back with an inanimate thud.

“What?” Shane growled in answer.

“Shane!” Josie hissed, forcing herself to lower her voice.

“Josie. Where the hell are you? Whose number is this? I’m in your office—”

“Listen. I’m on the ninth floor in a maintenance room. Billy’s dead. George is going to kill me—”

The head of a sledgehammer plowed through the Sheetrock near the door. Josie screamed and jumped back, stumbling over Billy’s body and falling to the floor. Her butt bounced against the tiles, causing fresh bruises. The phone flew out of her bloody hand, skipping across the room.

Eww. She kicked against Billy’s legs, scrambling to get away from the dead body. Hand over bloody hand print, she crawled up the wall to stand on shaking legs.

She grabbed the box cutter out of her pocket, shakily working to slide the blade out. Her bloody fingers slipped, her nerves screamed in pain. Holding the tool with both hands, she finally pushed hard enough to expose the blade.

George broke the hole in the wall wider, pounding either side of the opening and sending chunks of Sheetrock dust flying. He poked one thick boot through the bottom, kicking drywall toward her. Both beefy hands pulled at the broken wall to open a man-sized hole.

He stepped inside, blood pouring down his face, his brown eyes wide and crazed.

Chills ripped down her back. She lifted the inch-long blade toward him. “I called for help.” Her voice trembled more than her hands. “You should run. Now.”

He grimaced, his gaze on her meager weapon. “You didn’t call nobody.”

She shoved fear to the back of her mind. Think. Focus. Shane’s words from so long ago came flying back. Accept you’re being attacked, breathe, and face reality. Her stance settled.

George leapt forward, both hands grabbing her wrist and swinging her toward the wall. Her knuckles crashed into hard Sheetrock, and she cried out, the blade clattering to the floor. Her foot shot out to kick. George reared back and punched her in the jaw.

Pain ripped through her face. Josie went down.

He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her through the hole and out of the closet. Agony scorched along her scalp.

Bunching her fist, she plowed it into the back of his knee. He yelled, loosening his hold and turning toward her. Scrambling for her feet, she jabbed him in the groin on her way up.

Somebody yanked him away. He released her, bellowing in protest.

Josie dropped to the floor, her vision blurred, her ears ringing.

“Angel,” Shane breathed, gathering her into a seated position. He lifted her chin. “Where are you hurt, sweetheart?” Concern and fury comingled in his eyes.

Josie shivered. “My hands.” Her entire body began to shake. “My jaw.” Where did George go? She glanced around in terror.

The breath caught in her stomach. Matt held George in a headlock, a wicked double-edged knife at her kidnapper’s throat. George’s eyes had gone wide, his body slack. Nathan stood to Matt’s side, a gun in his hand. They’d come for her.

Like a real family would.

Shane eyed her jaw, and his snapped shut. Swiveling to full height, he shot a punch to George’s face. A loud crack split the air. George went limp, and Matt let him fall to the ground. Shane instantly stomped on George’s hand. The sickening sound of knuckles breaking destroyed the silence. He moved for the other fingers.

“Wait.” Matt held up a hand.

Shane circled George like an eagle hungry to strike. “No. He hit her.”

“I know.” Nathan stepped between Shane and George, ignoring his brother’s warning growl. “We need answers, Shane.” He glanced at Josie, his gaze softening. “How badly are you hurt, sweetheart?”