Shattered (LOST #3)(91)

Sarah’s car was parked near the house. Someone was in that car. A woman, slumped over. He opened the passenger side door, and she fell into his arms. Her black hair was matted with blood. A pretty woman. His hand touched her throat. Her pulse was strong, but the wound on her head was bleeding a little too heavily.

He eased her back into her seat. That woman’s phone was ringing, again and again. He turned the phone off. Then he searched the car’s interior. When he opened the glove box, Murphy smiled. Ah, Sarah had come ready for battle.

But what good would the gun do if it was still in the car? He tucked it into his waistband. Then he made his way to the house’s front door. The body was there. A man with a slashing scar. The man who’d gotten into the car with Sarah. That guy had been in the backseat. Murphy frowned and looked back at the vehicle.

The attractive but unconscious woman was in the front passenger side, and based on the location of her injury . . . He knelt down next to the man. Saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. He wasn’t dead yet, either.

Murphy’s fingers closed around the knife. The guy’s eyes flew open.

“You’ll stay alive,” Murphy said, keeping his voice whisper soft, “unless the knife gets pulled out. When it comes out, you’ll die.”

He could just make out the man’s face in that darkness. Light spilled from inside the house, maybe from candles? Lanterns?

“You hurt the woman. And don’t lie, because lies just piss me off.”

The man nodded.

“Did you hurt Sarah?”

Again . . . a nod.

He yanked out the knife. Then Murphy rose and pushed open the door of that house.

JAX HAD ONE hand free. He just had to get the other out of the ropes, then he could untie his legs—

“There he is, Sarah, all tied up and waiting.”

Jax stopped struggling. He looked up and his gaze locked on Sarah. Her eyes had never looked darker. She was afraid, he could see it on her face. He didn’t want Sarah to be afraid.

“I found you,” Sarah whispered.

Mitch had the knife at her throat. “Where should we start first?” He yanked up her arm. Shoved the sleeve away from her wrist. “How about right here, a nice long swipe across your— Oh, Sarah . . . someone’s already cut this vein once.”

Sarah was still staring at Jax. She smiled. “Help’s coming.”

Jax slammed back against the chair, trying to break those chair legs. Once. Twice. Three times. Again and again.

“Help won’t arrive in time.” Mitch seemed so certain of that. “I’ve got this place wired. If anyone gets too close . . . boom!”

Jax felt the give of the rope around his legs.

“I always loved the fire,” Mitch said. “Your father used to let me set some fires for him, Jax. When he needed to make evidence disappear. That’s why when his place burned, I was more than ready to clear out with Charlene. Figured the cops would try to pin that fire on me.” He yanked on Sarah’s hair, tipping her head back. “ ’Cause no one knew about her freak of a father back then.”

“Let her go,” Jax shouted.

“I want to hear her scream.” Then Mitch grabbed for Sarah’s right wrist. “No mark here . . . let’s give you a matched set.”

Sarah shoved against him, but he sliced open her wrist. Her blood dripped down her fingers, coming in a long stream.

“No!” Jax bellowed. “Fuck it, stop!! Don’t hurt her! You want some payback, then hurt me!”

Mitch shrugged. “But it does hurt you when I hurt her.”

He put the bloody knife back against Sarah’s throat.

“Sarah,” Jax whispered. “I’m sorry.” Sorry for everything. Sorry for being a fool when they’d been at the prison. Sorry for scaring her. Sorry for not telling her how much he loved her until it had been too late.

Because he’d loved her from nearly the beginning. When he’d looked into a pair of dark eyes and actually seen . . . hope. Something more. A future that he’d never thought to have. He’d loved her, and he would do anything for Sarah.

Mitch let the edge of the blade trail over Sarah’s collarbone, then down to her chest, resting that tip right between her breasts. “Are you scared, Sarah?” Mitch asked her.

Sarah didn’t answer.

He sliced through her shirt. “Are you going to beg?” Mitch demanded. “Beg me to let you live?”

She shook her head.

“You will!” Mitch swore. “You will—”

Her head turned toward him. “You’re going to die soon.” Her voice was cold and flat. “You won’t get out of this house.”

Mitch hesitated.

“You should have never come after me or Jax. It’ll be your own fault when you die.”

“I’m not dying!” Mitch yelled. “You are!” And he drove his fist into Sarah’s jaw.

“No!” Jax roared. He yanked at the last of those ropes. They tore free and he kicked out of the chair, fighting to untie his legs. Fighting to get to Sarah. But Mitch was over her with that knife. Right over her heart. “Stop! You want someone to beg, then I’ll beg! Don’t kill Sarah! Please, don’t!”

Mitch kept that knife right at her heart. His head turned and he smiled at Jax. “Beg again . . .”