Page 85 of Submitting to Them

“Wait, where are you going?”Lin asks.

“We can’t just sit here.”I’m already opening the door.“We’re going to the Foothill property.”

As King and I get into his car, I say, “She’s not going to be there.”

He nods.

“He dumped the car and took her somewhere else,” I say.“We need to figure out where.”

“My guess is Mexico.No fucking idea how he plans to get across the border, though.”

We speed toward the house, winding our way along a frontage road and then into the foothills that gave the nearby town its name.Even though it sounds like Joel abandoned his car here and went somewhere else with Ella, and officers have already canvased the scene, Kingston and I need to see the place for ourselves.

Two hours pass in tense silence.King’s navigation system brings us all the way around the town of Foothill—the house isn’t in the actual town limits.We turn down a long, quiet road.

“There’s nothing out here,” I say.“No houses, no neighbors.”

“He didn’t want witnesses when he moved her from one car to the other.”

I have to force out the words I’ve been afraid to say out loud.“Do you think she’s…okay?”

“Yeah.He won’t kill her in cold blood.”He shakes his head, as if trying to get rid of a thought.

“What is it?”I ask.

“He’s not going to kill her,” King insists, “but he said he wanted to destroy what I love most.”

My blood runs cold.“The fuck?King, he needs to be in jail.That’s a big fucking threat.”

“I know.”

I’m furious.Even though this isn’t his fault, I’m mad at Kingston.I’m also mad at Joel.At the bodyguards for not preventing this from happening.At Ella for getting into a car with Joel.At myself, for not fucking protecting my girl.If I’d skipped that dinner last night, I would’ve been at home with her, holding her, keeping her safe.

“We’re going to get her back,” Kingston says.

“I can’t fucking talk right now.”

He nods and keeps his eyes on the road.

Eventually, we come to a large house with dark wood siding.Large picture windows take up most of the front.I struggle to see through the reflected sunlight and branches.As far as I can tell, there’s no movement inside.

The officers who came to check the place out are long gone.

“There’s Joel’s car,” King says, pointing.

I see it, too.A silver Porsche identical to Kingston’s.

King pulls up next to it and we climb out of his car.I gaze around the driveway, shielding my eyes from the bright morning sunlight, hoping to find some big clue that the police officers might have missed.I want this to make sense.I want answers.I want to get Ella back.

“Well, should we go in?”I ask, pointing at the house.

Kingston shrugs.“It’ll be breaking and entering, but I don’t give a damn if you don’t.”

I kick open the door and we go inside.There’s no alarm—it was probably disabled when the police came to look around earlier.

“We’re not going to find anything,” I say.“She isn’t here.”

“I have to look anyway.”