Page 117 of Aaron's Patience

“What?” My eyebrow peaked.

“Neighbors say he didn’t drink. By all accounts Bobbie Granger never touched alcohol, hating the way it made him feel out of control.”

“He murdered his own parents,” I surmised.

“Looks like it but it’s never been proven. Not long after their death is when he shut down the bookstore and went to California again, only to move back to Williamsport. His behavior became more erratic and aggressive once she was back.”

Another chill ran through my body. I was the catalyst for his aggression. Seeing her with me and our children. And now, she was pregnant and alone with that psychotic fuck and I had no idea where.

“He’s not here, so where the hell is he?”

“We’re digging up financial and real estate records. He purchased two plane tickets to the Bahamas just five days ago.”

I narrowed my eyes. “He’ll never make that flight.”

“Fucking right he won’t,” Joshua growled, sounding as pissed as I was.

I could’ve done all of this on my own, but I was glad I had my entire family with me in that moment.

“Who’s that?” I questioned, when Brutus’ phone rang.

“Office. They’ve got something…” He trailed off, answering his phone.

I watched, feeling helpless as he told whoever it was on the other end to send the information.

“He has a house. A cottage about twenty minutes outside of the city. Was owned by his grandfather. Rarely used. Sending GPS coordinates to all your phones now.”

Brutus’ words were in the background as I made a beeline for the door. I burst through the door of the closed down bookstore, and jumped in behind the wheel of my Tesla Roadster.

I was pulling up the coordinates of that madman’s house as Joshua jumped in the passenger seat.

“Carter and Brutus’ guys are following,” he stated as I pulled off.

I didn’t need anyone else for this but I guessed I was glad they were all there.

“Shit, I forgot how fucking crazy you drive,” Joshua commented.

I grunted as I rounded the corner, driving through a red light. In my head, I dared any shit cop to try and stop me. I was going to get my woman back and then bury the bastard that’d tried to take her from me.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Patience

“Dammit!” I groaned at the growing rope burn on my wrists. I’d been trying feverishly, ever since Sam left to free myself. A small thread of the rope had frayed after rubbing them continuously along the rusty metal pipe I was tied to. It felt like hours upon hours I’d been trying to untie myself, with very little headway.

My throat was hoarse from yelling, trying to alert anybody that could be nearby, but to no avail. I had no idea where I was. The one window in the room was covered by dark drapes. Just then, I had an idea. I remembered that I had a couple of bobbie pins in my hair, that I’d used to pin up my locs that morning. I bent down, lowering my head to my hands, and fiddled for a bit, searching for the pins. I was able to reach about two of them. I stuck the tips in my mouth, working to pry off the rounded, rubber edges to get to the sharp pointed metal tip.

Spitting the rubber balls out, I twisted the pins around and worked to use the now sharp edges of the bobbie pins to cut through the robe. It was slow progress, but still moved quicker than rubbing back and forth against the metal pole. I pushed past the pain still throbbing in my head and my wrists. I could give into it when I was safe. I needed to concentrate on the task at hand. I breathed and continued to work my fingers, trying to free myself.

“We gotta go!”

I jumped when Sam bust through the door, yelling. He had an even more crazed look in his eye than when he’d left. He moved in my direction with purpose. I backed up against the pole, not knowing what to expect. Of course, I didn’t manage to get very far, still being tied up and all.

“Don’t touch me!” I kicked at Sam, landing my heel against his shin.

“Ah, shit!” he screeched. “The fuck is your problem?!” He grabbed my face painfully. “I’m doing this for us!” he hissed, his spittle landing on my nose and mouth. “They found out it’s me. They know my apartment. We’ve gotta go.” Sam was frantic. He went for my wrists, untying me from the pole, but my hands were still bound to one another.

My first instinct was to make a dash but something told me not to just yet. Instead of trying to break free, I tightened my fingers around the bobbie pins, to prevent him from seeing them in my hands.