Buried (Bone Secrets, #3)(21)

Suddenly very thirsty, she pushed her front door open and made a beeline to the kitchen. And froze. Jesus Christ. Every drawer in her kitchen had been emptied onto the floor. Every cupboard was open. She slowly backed out of the room, eyes wide at the disaster.

Get out. Now.

“Don’t move. Don’t turn around,” a male voice uttered behind her.

She didn’t.

Something small and hard pressed against the back of her skull.

Her heart started to pound its way out of her chest, her mouth instantly dry, and her vision tunneled.

“I want you to slowly lie down on the floor. On your stomach and put your hands behind you.”

He’s going to rape me.

Jamie didn’t move. If she got down on the floor, she wouldn’t have a chance.

“Get down, now!” he growled.

She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to move her legs.

“Fucking bitch.” He rammed his hand into the small of her back and ground the gun into her neck. “Move it!”

Jamie fell to her knees and winced. He grabbed one of her arms and wrenched it behind her back, the gun still digging into her neck.

“Where’s your brother?”

Chris? “What?” Her voice squeaked.

The gun dug deeper. “Where’s that f*cking brother of yours? The one with the pretty round scars down his face.” He moved the gun around to her cheek and shoved it into her flesh. “You want some matching scars? I’ve got a pack of cigarettes handy.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. The gun hurt, but not as bad as the image of Chris’s skin burning.

“Where is he? I know that reporter is looking for him. Everybody wants a piece of Chris Jacobs right now. The famous survivor.” He spit the last sentence. “Does he really not remember where he was and what happened to him? I bet he remembers my cigarettes.”

Jamie frantically shook her head. “Nothing…he doesn’t…”

Oh my God. He’s the one. He’s the one who hurt Chris. He killed all those children.

“I don’t believe that. And all this publicity is bound to stir up some old memories. I bet he won’t be sleeping very good once he hears about all those little discoveries at the farm. Now. Be a good sister and tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know! I really don’t know! I call a number and leave a message…he gets back to me eventually. I called yesterday, but I haven’t heard back. But Michael…” Jamie clamped her mouth shut.

He burned my brother. All those children…

She felt her skin tear as the gun dug into her cheekbone.

Chris’s nightmares…the screaming…he’s the one…

“Michael? The reporter? He found something? He knows where to find that skinny bastard?”

Jamie shook her head, trying to pull away from the tip of the gun. “He doesn’t know.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He yanked on the arm behind her back, and her vision blurred.

“I don’t know…I don’t know what you want!”

“I want your brother!” He gave a hard shove, and Jamie’s face slammed into the wood floor.

Every self-defense article she’d ever read scrambled in her brain. One rule stuck out: Fight back and scream!

She rolled over and lashed out with her legs and feet, kicking him in the shins and knees.

She screamed. Every ounce of energy went into her screams and her legs.

Years of running powered her legs, and he stumbled backward in surprise. The gun slipped from his hand, and she scrambled for it. He dove forward, grabbed it, and backhanded her across the face with the gun. The metal tore her lips.

She screamed more. He was on her level now, and she kept kicking and kicking. Arms, legs, gut, ass. She connected everywhere. He scrambled backward, crablike, slamming the gun against the floor each time his hand moved.

Keep kicking! Keep kicking! Jamie pushed forward, scooting on her butt, using the most powerful part of her body to hammer him with her feet. He grabbed a cupboard door and heaved himself off the floor. He whirled around the corner, out of the kitchen, and ran.

Jamie clambered to her hands and knees and shot up after him. Catching her balance on the doorframe, she saw a glimpse of his shirt as he dashed out her front door.

She grasped the kitchen doorframe with both hands as she stared down her hallway and out into the bright sunshine. Jamie slowly slid down the frame and sat on the floor.

He’s gone. He’s the one…the children…Chris…

She couldn’t breathe, and her heart wouldn’t stop thrashing inside her chest. Her arms shook. She crossed them on her chest, squeezing tight. They didn’t stop.

She needed to call 911. Now.

The phone on her counter seemed a mile away.

Oh my God, he almost killed me…

She blinked, seeing the cupboards start to shimmy and warp. Her stomach heaved.

Oh crap.

She grabbed a bowl from the mess on the floor and vomited.



Michael threw another pair of shorts in his bag.

“Fuck.” What was wrong with him? He’d planned to be on the road an hour ago, and he wasn’t even packed. His internal alarm clock had failed for the first time in his life, and he had a good idea of why.

He’d been awake half the night thinking about Jamie Jacobs. And spent the other half dreaming about her. It wasn’t until after he’d stepped out of the shower that he realized he was running late.