Out of Love(71)

“What are you doing?”

He grabbed my cuffed wrists and dragged me toward the front room.

“What are you doing?”

He shoved me onto the sofa and plucked out another tie, binding my ankles in under five seconds. “Restrain me. Tie me up, Wylder … that’s what you wanted. Remember, Liv? You wanted to practice staying calm in the eye of a fucking storm. Well, here’s your chance.”

“Just kill me, you monster!” I yelled at his back as he retreated to the door, heading out to the Jeep.





Chapter Twenty-Nine




Jackson Knight


I landed at LAX a little after eight in the morning and was on my way to Slade’s house in a rental car by eight thirty. Ten minutes out, Jessica called me.

“Hey, I just landed, and I’ll be at his house in ten. I’m not letting her know I’m here yet. I need to check some—”

“Jackson,” she interrupted with an edge of impatience.

“What is it?”

“I left Reagan a message last night. Asked her to dig a little deeper into anything suspicious with Stefan Hoover. And she just called me. His gambling debt has been paid off, and he didn’t have life insurance, but his house has been paid off too. Want to know who paid for everything?”

“Jess …”

“Pull over, Jackson.”

“Just tell me.”

“Pull over, then I’ll tell you. Then we’ll make a plan.”

“Jesus …” I took the first exit and pulled into a gas station. “Tell me.”

She paused for a few seconds. “Abe McGraw.”

The muscles in my jaw ticked for a few seconds. “I should have killed him years ago. Fucking loose end.” I ran a hand through my hair and cupped the back of my neck.

“There’s more. And I need you to think, not react.”

“Say it.”

“Reagan found something in Abe’s file. The surveillance you requested for two years after Knox died? It showed him with a child. Not worth mentioning since a child isn’t a threat. But … it wasn’t his child. Reagan saw him dropping the boy off at school. She researched the boy with the school’s records. His mom is Mary Wylder.”

I shoved the car into drive and sped out of the parking lot.

“Jackson, Slade received a ten-million-dollar inheritance from Knox. He’s Knox’s son.”

“I have to call her.”

“Jackson, wait! There’s—”

“Not now.” I disconnected the call and called Livy. It went straight to voicemail. Weaving through traffic, I glanced down at my phone to see the location of her Jeep. It looked about an hour outside of LA. I assumed she was hiking with her friends as she often did when they didn’t surf. If luck was on my side, Slade would be home.

Alone.

I parked up the street close to Aubrey’s old house. Then I strolled down to his driveway with a black Volvo SUV parked in it, feeling relieved that he was home and Livy was an hour away, safe with her friends.

Knocking on the front door, I stood to the side, just out of sight.

No one answered.

I walked around back and tried the side door to the garage, but it was locked. Tugging my shirt up to cover my elbow, I broke the glass and unlocked the door. Welding and exercise equipment occupied the space. Next, I tried the back door. It too was locked, so I broke another window. Before I stepped into the house, I noticed drops of dried blood at my feet.

As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I slid open the drawers until I found a knife. Inspecting the downstairs and then the upstairs, I searched for him, but he wasn’t there. The lamp in the bedroom was broken on the floor and a bullet had taken out a cell phone. I couldn’t tell if it was Livy’s or not. Heading back downstairs, I called Jessica.

“He has her. An hour away.”

“Jackson … he’s been trained. That’s what I tried to tell you.”

I stopped when I noticed the kitchen rug that had been under the table was missing, but there was a trapdoor in plain sight.

“Trained?” I flipped the table onto its side with a crash and threw open the door before switching to speaker phone so I could use the flashlight on it to climb down into the hole.

“He’s trained to—”

“He’s an assassin,” I muttered, seeing all the weapons on the wall, feeling more desperate than I’d felt in my whole life. And I’d been put in a lot of desperate situations.

“Reagan found huge transfers from Abe to Slade. She thinks Abe is working again.”

“G.A.I.L was dissolved.”

“She thinks he’s working on his own or with a smaller group. Freelancing … with Slade as his favorite weapon. Abe is Slade’s handler, and I think Livy’s the target.”

I gathered as many weapons as I could haul in one load. “He did it, Jess. He killed Ryn.”

“Jackson—”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get my daughter.”

“I can come—”

“It will be over before you get here.” I ended the call and shoved my phone into my pocket before climbing out of the basement, loaded down with everything I’d need.