Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(192)

“Burgundy Taurus, man, right in your woman’s goddamned driveway.”

The pain spiked.

He looked to Mike. “They’re at Cher’s.”

Mike turned on his blinker.

“You got eyes?” he asked Cal.

“Walked by. Sheers closed but movement in the kitchen,” Cal answered. “Otherwise, made no approach.”

“Distinct movement?”

“Yeah. One person. Couldn’t tell much. But it wasn’t Cher.”

It wasn’t Cher.

“Stay clear,” Merry ordered. “We’re on our way.”

“Got it.”

Garrett disconnected and ran his thumb over the screen.

“He took her to her own f*ckin’ house?” Mike asked.

“Cal says car’s in the driveway and there’s movement in the kitchen, not Cher,” Garrett answered as he made his call and put the phone to his ear.

“Yo,” Colt answered.

“Cal reports burgundy Taurus in Cher’s drive. You and Sully. Mike and me. And I’m calling Tanner. We go in soft with no one else there to f*ck this shit up.”

“You’re too close to this, brother. Let me call Drew and Sean there. Adam and Ellen,” Colt replied. “We’ll take care of her.”

“If I’m too close, you’re too close,” Garrett gave him the truth.

There was a pause, then, “Fuck.”

Colt knew the truth.

“You call cap,” Garrett ordered. “Tell him what we’re doin’, but do not let him throw everything we got at this so fifteen squads from all over the county roll in hot and tweak this guy to do somethin’ even stupider than abducting my woman. We don’t know what we’re dealin’ with here. We go in easy.”

“You got it. I’m on it. Meet you there.”

“Our ETA, five.”

“Ours, seven. But we’ll shave off two.”

They disconnected.

Her own f*cking house.

He called her number. It was the fourth time he’d called since he’d heard.

She didn’t answer.

Then he called Tanner and gave him the news.

“Okay, keep your shit, man, but if this is about Lowe, her bein’ Lowe’s and now you bein’ hers, this could be about you. Goin’ to her place, he could be drawin’ you there,” Tanner warned.

“That thought crossed my mind,” Garrett replied.

“We’ll get her, brother,” Tanner assured.

They would.

They had to.

Because he definitely could survive losing Mia.

He could even survive losing his mom.

But he wasn’t sure he was capable of waking up and not seeing Cher’s pretty.

* * * * *

Cher

“You’re breaking all my shit,” I bit out.

He was also near to dislocating my shoulder, jerking me around while he shoved the gun in my shelves in my media center and knocked shit off, not to mention tore pictures off the wall.

“Ratted on him. Got him caught. Weasel f*cker,” he muttered.

Things had turned.

He had turned.

It was like I wasn’t there. He was so focused on finding cameras that didn’t exist, I was an afterthought.

And I was f*cked.

There was nothing I could do. My hands were still zip-tied behind my back.

I couldn’t run and get shot dead, making my son fatherless and motherless.

I couldn’t fight to try and get the gun away from him.

I couldn’t think of Ryker on my floor, hopefully still breathing.

I couldn’t think of Ryan at all.

I couldn’t do anything but get extremely pissed off that my life sucked so f*cking bad.

I should have known.

Never hope.

Never want.

Certainly never dream.

Never.

If this guy made me dead, he’d set my kid on a path where he could learn that.

And I wouldn’t be there to set him straight.

Fucker.

Fucking f*cker.

“Please let me go,” I whispered.

He didn’t let me go.

His head came up and he jerked me around so quickly, my head snapped on my neck.

I saw him stare at the door.

My eyes shot to the door.

Was someone there?

Should I cry out?

“You ratted too.”

His words in that weird whisper made me look to him.

He was looking at me.

“I wanted to make a video for them. A nice video they’d like. A video of you on his camera. A video of me cleaning up Denny’s business.”

Oh God.

Please let someone be out there.

“You,” he kept whispering, “the slut-stripper whore and the weasel. You got him caught.”

“He was murdering people,” I replied.

“In the name of love.”

I stared at him.

Fucking f*ck this guy was whacked.

And there it was. Just my luck. Just the suckage of my life.

I missed it.

Again.

“It’s time,” he said.

Oh no.

Shit.

Fuck.

“Time for what?” I asked.

“Time for it to end.”