Page 86 of Jessica's Hero

Except I can’t see him.

But I know he went in with me.

Shivering from the cold, I take another steadying breath as I remind myself,You’re not dead yet. There’s still a chance, however slim.

On my second rotation, that’s when I spot Adam. Not swimming, but floating face down in the water.

Though I know it’s probably a terrible idea, I make my way over to him.

And that’s when I see it—the huge gash on the back of his head.

I don’t touch him, but wait with bated breath.

Minutes go by.

He doesn’t move.

And finally, he starts to sink.

Relief wars with dread.

He’s dead. But so am I, if I don’t get out of here.

I wait another few minutes to make sure Adam doesn’t pop out of the water in some sort of horrifying end-of-a-horror-movie scene. But he doesn’t.

If nothing else, he won’t kill again.

Then I look at the broken ladder, wishing. Hoping. But it’s clearly unusable.

Although. The jagged edges could cut through rope. And maybe I could free my hands. Be able to stay afloat longer. Trigger my necklace.

And maybe, even though it’s the slimmest of chances, Kane will come for me.

Please.

CHAPTER 18

KANE

“Where the fuck did her tracker go?”

Panic seizes my chest as I scan the laptop screen, searching for the blinking red dot thatwasleading us to Jess.

We’ve been following her signal for the last three hours as we’ve sped north into the Adirondacks, my fear growing bigger and more painful by the minute.

I’ve been trying to focus on the logistics of our rescue—discussing contingencies and possible motives and plans of approach once we get to wherever Jess’s captor is taking her. And shewastaken. That’s one thing we’re sure of.

It was the first thing Leo discovered once he pulled up all the security footage at her lab. In the chaos of the fire alarm and subsequent evacuation, no one spotted a man sneaking out the back with a woman dangling limply over his shoulder.

Not just any woman. Jess.

My Jess. Unconscious. Vulnerable. In the clutches of an unknown enemy dressed all in black, a hoodie disguising his face.

Fucking hoodies. I’ve hated them ever since I became a cop and realized how effective they were at masking a criminal’s identity. But now it’s worse. Because this piece of shit has my Jess. He’s taking her fuck-knows-where to do things I can’t bring myself to contemplate.

But the terrifying thoughts keep trying to sneak in no matter how hard I try to block them. Horrible images of Jess hurt, violated, sobbing in fear and pain, wondering why I’m not there to protect her. Or worse?—

No.