Page 40

Jack

It’s slow going, made even slower because of the trick or treaters and parties and general Friday-night traffic. I’d much rather be taking the fastest route along the interstate, but what if that’s what Rip expects? What if he’s going this way to see if we show up at his place ahead of him?

He’s not dumb, and it makes sense. It’s also killing me every time I stop at a long traffic signal in the middle of nowhere with no cars around.

I’ve just crossed into Mississippi when Garrett calls me. Tapping the screen, I put him on speaker.

“Have you heard anything?” My shoulders tense, and I squint into the darkness, hoping. “I’m at the address in West Riverside. A blue Malibu with Alabama plates is parked on the street.”

“That’s it.” I quickly exit 59, taking the first highway that will bring me all the way to I-10. “I’m coming as fast as I can get there.”

“I’m going to park up the road and wait. It doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere tonight.”

“Stay put. I’m at least an hour away.”

“Drive safe.”

We disconnect, and I put the pedal down as I chew my lip. Maybe Rip isn’t so bright after all. That thought worries me more than the idea he might be watching us. If he’s stupid, he’ll be sloppy.

If he’s sloppy, someone could get hurt, and I don’t want that someone to be Allie. Hell, I don’t want it to be any of us.

My chest is tight, and I press harder on the accelerator. I need to get there now. Protection is what I do. I protect my family, and Allie is my family now.

I grip the steering wheel tighter and reach over to flick on the radio. Anything to make this drive pass faster.

After what feels like an eternity, but is actually only an hour, I’m finally at Tchoupitoulas, winding around to the address I typed into my phone. Garrett texted me his location, and I turn a block early, circling around until I see his gray truck on the side of the road.

I pull up behind him and get out as quietly as possible. My boots crunch on the light gravel, and I scan the houses as I walk up to where he’s parked.

The light from a television screen flickers in the window across the street. The other houses are dark. I tap on his passenger’s side door, and the lock clicks allowing me to hop into the cab.

“I tried calling NOPD, but they don’t have any cause to come out here.” He exhales impatiently, sitting forward. “He hasn’t broken parole. He checked in with his officer, and he hasn’t left the state.”

“As far as they know.”

Garrett’s brows pinch, and he looks down. “That car right there is all the proof we need, but it’s not that easy. It was rented in Allie’s name, they share a kid. From where they stand, she could’ve come here of her own accord.”

“What are you telling me?” My jaw is tight, and I don’t give a fuck what the NOPD thinks.

“They said they’d send a cruiser to do a check-in first thing in the morning.”

“That’s not going to help us tonight.”

My brother’s head turns slowly, and when our eyes meet, I see the resolve in his expression. “We’re on our own. I can’t arrest him. I have no jurisdiction here.”

I sit straighter in the seat. “We need a plan. We can’t just walk up to the door and ask him to hand her over.”

“We need our brothers.” Garrett’s voice is tight. “If all five of us walked up to that door, it might intimidate him into doing the right thing.”

“It might.” I rub my hand over my chin, thinking. “Or it might make him panic and do something stupid.”

I’ve never met Allie’s ex, but from what I’ve heard, he’s a loose cannon.

“You think he’s armed?” Garrett’s blue eyes meet mine, and no matter how many years have passed, how much growing up we’ve done, he’s still my little brother.

“Definitely. And I don’t want you or Allie or any of us getting shot.”

Adrenaline tweaks in my muscles, and I can’t allow my thoughts to go down that path. I’ve lost too many people I love in my life. I’m not losing any more.

Garrett punches my arm. “Come on. Let’s case the joint.”

We climb out of the truck, closing the doors as quietly as possible. Garrett digs around in the second row of his truck, pulling out black jackets and tossing one to me. My gun is in the back of my jeans, but I’m not taking it out yet.

Nothing turns up the heat like bringing out a piece. If we can keep the temperature down, we might get out of this without anyone getting hurt.

A narrow ditch separates the small yard from the road, and we hop across it, doing our best to stay low, near the shrubs lining the property. It’s almost midnight, and I only hope the neighbors aren’t watching.

Streetlights provide some illumination, but for the most part, everything is dark shadows. The moon isn’t full, which helps, and we jog through the damp grass to the side of the house.

It’s completely dark and quiet. It’s on stilts, which puts the windows chin-high on me. Garrett’s a few inches taller, and he leans forward to peek through the glass. Just as fast he jerks away, pressing his back to the wall beside me.

Lifting his hand, he puts a finger to his lips before pointing to the back of the house. I crouch, moving as quietly as possible to the rear.

When we round the corner, he puts a hand on my shoulder, and we lower to a squat. “He’s awake in there.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw the light from his cigarette. He’s sitting up smoking. Watching.”

My throat aches. “Did he see you?”

“I don’t know.” Garrett looks over his shoulder at the way we came. “Maybe.”

My heart ticks faster, and I’m ready to confront this asshole. “Could you see Allie?”

He shakes his head. “I saw that cherry and jerked back as fast as I could.”

We freeze at the creak of a screen door opening. It’s right above us, where a short landing leads to a flight of five concrete steps down to the narrow strip of weeds constituting a backyard.

Garrett pushes my shoulder, and we roll around the corner away from the light.

“I know you’re there.” Rip’s voice is about what I expect .

He sounds like a con artist.

He sounds like a voice I remember well from my childhood, when I was the only one old enough to understand. Jayden Wells would sit on our porch swing with my parents, talking about all the things they were going to do together when they opened the restaurant.

I remember their smiles, the hope in my mother’s eyes as they made plans. I remember him talking a big game…

Before he double-crossed them and stole all our money.

“You’re not takin’ her,” that asshole continues. “She’s going to help me get out of this, and if you try and stop us, I’ll put a bullet in you and a bullet in her.”

My lungs are tight with anger, and my hand is on the gun in the back of my jeans. Garrett grips my shoulder, stopping me from storming around there and shooting him right in his fucking face.

“Now get on back to where you came from,” he continues. “You got no business messing with what’s mine.”

“Mine…” It’s a low growl from my burning throat.

“Rip Sinclair?” Garrett’s voice is loud and authoritative.

“This is the sheriff of Newhope. I know you broke parole, and I know you kidnapped Allie. You’re only digging a deeper hole with all this.

Now you hand her over to us, and we’ll take her home and leave you be.

You still have a chance to turn things around. It’s your choice.”

My brow furrows, and I glare at my brother. He doesn’t have a chance at anything. This motherfucker isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants, and apparently he’s delusional enough to think that somehow includes Allie.

I shake my head, but Garrett holds up a hand to wait.

Leaning closer, he speaks directly in my ear. “I’m trying to get her out of there. We’ll deal with him once we know she’s safe.”

Clenching my teeth, I concede. He has a point. The last thing we want is a shootout with Allie caught in the crossfire .

“You’re not law enforcement,” Rip snarls. “You’d be swarming this place if you were. You’re that fucking coach who’s fucking my wife.”

I start for him again, but again, Garrett grabs me around the waist, holding me back.

“It’s your last chance, Sinclair,” he shouts. “We’re just here for the girl. Now give her to us, and we’ll be on our way.”

My breath is coming in heaves, and it’s taking all of Garrett’s strength to hold me in place.

“Fuck you, asshole.” Rip spits over the rail. “You want her? Come get her.”

“With pleasure,” I growl, pushing my brother aside.

Storming around the corner, I rip the gun from the back of my jeans, holding it straight out in both hands. Garrett jogs to catch up with me, and the minute we clear the side of the house, two staccato pops echo from the back door.

A splintering noise blasts near my head where one bullet hits the wooden structure behind us.

The other is a solid thump that sends my brother jerking back, knocking him off his feet beside me.

Garrett goes down with a groan.

“God dammit.” I duck to the side behind an old motorcycle leaning against the shack of a garage. “You okay, bro?”

My brother is on the ground on his back not moving, and my chest is on fire. Rip has disappeared into the black interior of the house, and I know I can’t charge up there without risking getting shot as well.

Garrett lets out another low groan, and I stretch out, grabbing the front of his black jacket.

He strains, pushing with his heels, and I pull him with all my strength to the side of the small building. Shoving the gun in the back of my jeans again, I grab him by the lapels and lean him against the wall.

“Fuck,” Garrett groans. “He knocked the wind out of me. ”

“Are you hurt?” I pull the jacket away to see a black spot on the front of his gray T-shirt at the top of his chest.

He lifts a large hand, gripping the front of my shirt. “Get in there and get that guy. Now.”

I check his pulse, and it’s elevated, but he seems like he’ll be okay for a little longer. “Stay with me, bro.”

Looking all around, I grab the lid off a metal trash can in the alley and use it like a shield as I dash to the side of the house again. Another staccato pop, and the wood on the corner of the house splinters as I pass.

I’m breathing hard, and Garrett’s right. We should have brought all our brothers with us. It’s too late for that now. Now I’ve got to deal with this asshole on my own.

Garrett makes a soft groan, and I see him lift his hand to his chest. Another staccato pop, and the wood blasts to bits on the side of the small garage.

That’s four bullets. I don’t know what type of weapon he’s using, but it’s possible he only has two rounds left. Could we get that lucky?

More like, would he be that stupid? Only one way to find out.

Dashing forward, I toss the trash can lid onto the back landing, and another shot rings out in that direction. That’s when I hear a soft whimper, a female sound, and my vision tunnels. Allie .

She’s in there, and I’ve got to get her out.

Banking everything on the hope that he only has one bullet left, I charge up the back steps yelling at the top of my lungs. Holding the gun in both my hands, I aim high, firing three shots at the ceiling as I run through the screen door.

I don’t know if he might be using Allie as a shield, and I don’t want to hurt her accidentally.

My hope is to startle him into running. My hope is wrong.

Another pop rings out, and it’s a bite to my shoulder. I drop to the floor in the darkness, holding completely still and listening .

Across the room, I hear Rip moving, but a whimper followed by a soft thump to my left tells me Allie is close. I crawl quickly, circling my hands over the floor in the darkness, trying to find her.

It’s so dark, but I make out the edge of a bed. Crawling faster, I feel soft cotton. It’s a skirt, and my forehead is tight. My chest aches like a heart attack until my fingers finally make contact with her warm skin.

Another muffled cry, and I lunge to where she’s crouching in the corner beside the bed.

“Allie,” I whisper, feeling all around.

She’s still crying, and I don’t know if her mouth is taped. Her arm is raised behind her in a way that seems unnatural. Sliding my hands up, I feel a rope around her wrist, and another burst of rage fires in my chest.

Heavy footsteps pound the wooden floors, and I don’t have time to untie her.

“Stay down,” I order, moving away and gripping my gun in both hands again.

He’s storming right to us, and I don’t care if he’s out of bullets. Lifting my weapon, I see a slight variation in the darkness as his shadowy figure emerges.

I don’t hesitate.

Pulling the trigger, I hold the gun as it discharges repeatedly. He falls to the floor with a loud crash, and after three shots, my gun jams.

“Fuck!” A roar breaks from my chest.

He makes a noise like a laugh, and I charge across the floor, falling to my knees where he lies and gripping him by the front of the shirt as I slam my fist into his face again and again.

My body is tight. Rage is pushing me, driving me. I see Allie cowering and afraid. I see Austin’s face crumple as he cries. I see myself driving in the night, not knowing if she’s alive or dead.

Pulling back, I hit him harder until my fist is slick with his blood. I want to kill him with my bare hands. He gurgles, and someone massive grabs my arm on the back swing.

“Jack!” A voice I know holds me. “It’s over, Jack. Stop. He’s done. He can’t do any more.”

It’s Garrett. He’s holding me around both arms, but even my massive offensive lineman little brother can’t contain my rage. Rip makes another noise, and I try to hit him again.

Every exhale is a feral animal noise, but Garret has me tight.

“It’s okay, brother.” He holds on. “You can stop now. It’s over.”