Page 20

Rhys comes barreling down the hallway. His face is twisted in anger and frustration.

“What’s going on?” I ask, hopping off the counter.

“Stay here,” he barks, swiping his keys from the table and marching toward the door.

“Rhys.” He glances over his shoulder when he swings the door open. “Tell me what’s wrong.” I shake my head with a frown.

“I’ve gotta go.”

The wall shakes when the door slams behind him.

What in the?

Holding my arms outward, I scoff. “Oookay?”

I’m off work today so what the fuck am I going to do while I wait around for Rhys to finish whatever it is he’s doing?

With Paige gone, my only option is to reach out to Karley but to be honest, that doesn’t sound even remotely appealing. Add the fact I’m not close to Hank’s gym, it’s safe to say, I am in for an uneventful day.

I glance at the clock and see it’s just past 7 a.m. I scan Rhys’ apartment and a thrill fills my stomach.

“I mean… I am alone in the house of a guy who clearly does some sketchy shit.” I chuckle. “It seems only fair that I investigate.”

I skip down the hallway and push open the first door. This is going to be fun.

By 10 a.m. I’m bored out of my fucking mind. Rhys’ space is built like a miniature Fort Knox. I can’t get into anything without codes or fingerprints. It’s irrationally irritating. I don’t know why I’d expect snooping through his apartment to be easy.

Heading to Rhys’ room, I pull out my laptop from my bag and plop down on the bed. I need to find something to do. Sitting around for too long is a dangerous game I don’t enjoy playing.

It brings on an overwhelming sense of loss and the emptiness that sits in my chest expands.

You know the stages of grief? I think I’m still somewhere in the vicinity of denial and depression.

I quickly type stuff to do near me in the search bar. Very original, I know. But I’m becoming desperate and it’s still morning. I chew at the frayed skin by my fingernails as I scroll through the different options that loaded on the page.

“Hmm.” I sit straighter when I see that a dog agility event taking place in a park about 2 miles from here is urgently searching for a replacement judge.

Do I own a dog?

Nope.

Do I know anything about dog agility?

Also no.

But it seems like it’d be fun, so I open the page and scan what is required to be a judge.

“Damn it,” I mutter, slumping my shoulders in defeat.

Who knew you’d need a license to judge dogs?

Eh, I’ll still go. I think with a shrug.

After jotting down the location, I shut my laptop and quickly change my clothes.

It’s a little chilly out and the overcast sky warns of an incoming snowstorm. I tuck my hands into my pockets and pull my coat tighter around my body.

Two miles might not seem too far of a distance, but after I moved to New York, I quickly learned that there could be 40 blocks and 100 crosswalks within those 2 miles.

I haven’t heard from Rhys since he left, and I refuse to acknowledge the twinge of sadness that comes with that information.

He was an asshat about Tommy’s t-shirt, and I will not budge and tell Rhys that it belongs to him.

He doesn’t deserve to know anything about my brothers or my past.

I meant every word when I said the only thing he needs to know is how to pleasure me.

Rounding the final corner toward the park, I stop short.

The park is empty.

I bet they canceled the event because of the weather.

Great.

Pursing my lips, I spin slowly, scanning my surroundings. I freeze when I see a group huddled together in an alley. They hover over someone but it’s hard to see what they’re doing from this distance.

Without making it obvious that I noticed them, I saunter closer. There are four men who tower over one laying on the ground.

“Piece of shit,” one hisses, sending a swift kick to the guy’s side. He cries out in pain, but it’s muffled by the loud city around us.

“Where’s my money?”

“I-I don’t know!” he stutters, holding out his arms. “Please!”

“Hey!” I shout, pulling their attention.

Four sets of eyes scowl in my direction but my focus is on the kid on the ground. I doubt he’s any older than 16.

His wide, fear-filled eyes stare at me, pleading for help.

“Get out of here, sweetheart. This is men’s business.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “Funny. Men don’t gang up on a fucking child, sweetheart. ”

One with a ragged black hoodie and jeans, littered with holes, turns to face me. His hood is up, covering his face in shadow.

I square my shoulders. There is no way I can fight them off on my own, but if I can get the kid away, I think I can handle a few bumps and bruises.

I stand a few inches taller than the guy who stalks toward me. As he gets closer, his face becomes visible. Scars and scabs mar his skin, his eyes bloodshot.

The scent of rancid cigarettes and sweat fills my nose when he stands just a breath away. I don’t bother to mask the disgust that appears on my face.

His gaze trails down my body, pulling a growl from my lips. When his eyes rise back to mine, he smiles.

He’s missing a few teeth.

“Aren’t you a pretty one?” he purrs.

I relax my hands at my side, adrenaline flowing through my veins, defensive moves flash through my mind.

The other three men step away from the kid who continues to cower on the ground and move to surround me.

Each of them is similar in appearance to the first one.

Clearly, they use drugs and seem to be high off their rocker at the moment.

I flick my eyes to the boy who scrambles to his feet and flees from the alley.

“Looks like you’re all alone,” one teases.

“I bet you have a pretty pussy,” another whispers in my ear.

“Too bad you’re not gonna see it,” I snap, venom seeping from my voice.

“We’ll see about that.”

A hand is wrapped around my arm, crushing my bicep. I kick the man in front of me in the chest, knocking him back, and jab the heel of my palm into the nose of another. I feel the crunch on impact, and a wave of satisfaction pulses through me.

“Fucking bitch!”

My head whips to the side when he back hands me. Blood fills my mouth. I spit in the face of the guy holding my arm. He lets go, swiping at the blood.

The click of a gun being cocked causes everyone to pause. The boy stands next to Rhys who has a pistol pointed at the men.

“I suggest you step away from my woman,” he says in a menacingly calm voice.

They move away from me at rapid speed, holding their hands up in surrender.

“Sarah.” Rhys’ stoic face meets mine; his gun remains trained on the men who now stand behind me.

I use the back of my hand to wipe my busted lip then whirl around. “Fucking pigs.” I spit on the ground at the men’s feet before striding toward Rhys.

He reaches out, pausing my pursuit out of the alley. Wrath explodes in his irises as he takes in my disheveled appearance.

“Get in the car,” he orders, letting me go and gesturing over his shoulder with his chin.

“What about him?” I ask, my eyes flicking to the boy for a second.

“He’ll be cared for.” I see the promise in his eyes.

Satisfied, I nod and exit the alley.

Two vehicles are parked on the curb. A huge guy stands next to one and opens the door for me.

Three gunshots echo into the city the second I slide into the SUV.

Where is the fourth?

My entire body vibrates with anxiety, rage, and excitement.

Excitement? What the hell is wrong with me?

Those men would have raped me if Rhys didn’t show up.

I look out the window when muffled voices fill my ears. Blood is splattered across Rhys’ shirt as he talks to the man who helped me inside. Another exits the SUV, and walks passed them, returning with one of those pieces of shit dragging behind him.

The man thrashes and I can hear his pleas as he fights to escape.

That explains why there wasn’t a fourth gunshot.

I watch as he’s knocked unconscious by the butt of a gun and slumps to the ground. He’s then tied up and tossed into the trunk.

My brain short circuits.

We’re in broad fucking daylight and Rhys and this big ass dude are firing guns and kidnapping like it’s just another day at the office.

And here I thought I was going to have an uneventful day.