Page 84 of You Can Make Me

“Did you bring that in here?” I asked Dane, wondering how he would have had time to grab it.

“No. After I used it with Denny, I put it in the ottoman upstairs.”

“Did you, Ryan?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t. But I think it’s clear what we need to do.”

My gaze darted between the three men as they had some sort of nonverbal conversation.

“Cooper, sit down. Please,” Kal said, gesturing to the couch. “If the board is here, it’s meant for us to use it.”

I let him lead me to the couch when all I wanted to do was scream and claw my way through the door. To Denny. Who was gone.

“I’m sorry, Cooper,” Dane whispered. “This is my fault. If Walter hadn’t asked you two to be here while he was gone…”

The pain in his voice cut through my fury.

I reached out and took his hand. “No, Dane. This is the fault of Virgil Evans and his co-conspirators.” My gaze dropped to the board. “Will it feel like my dreams? It’s awful in my dreams.”

“Not when we go together,” Kal said softly, as he sat on my other side. “He can’t hurt you.”

“Yes he can.” Tears poured down my face, but I wiped at them in a huff. “If he hurts Denny, he will. Can we stop him?”

“We’re gonna try,” Dane said, the corner of his lips turning up.

“I’ll be the lookout,” Ryan said. “Give me your phone, Dee Dee. I’ll keep Walter posted.”

Dane handed him his phone, then the three of us stared at the board.

“Whatever you do…” Dane started

“Don’t let go.” Kal finished.

Twenty-One

Denny

I woke in the dark, my chest killing me, and tried to reach for my pills.

My hands were duct-taped behind me, and my ankles were wrapped tight as well.

Fuck.

Why all villains thought duct tape was the premier restraint material, I’ll never know. What happened to good ole rope? Or handcuffs? I could get out of handcuffs in thirty seconds, and ropes weren’t terrible unless tied by a true torture master.

Tape? Shit. Without something sharp to cut with, it wasn’t going to feel good, but I could do it. And fuck, my chest really hurt. How much was from the damned Taser and how much was from my damn heart, I had no idea. I needed to assess my situation fast.

Dax had pulled his fucking weapon on me. He was done when I got my hands on him. And his accomplice?

Chills went down my spine when I realized who’d Tased me.

Retired CHP Officer John Soto.

We’d met him at a bar at the start of this whole saga. I recalled seeing his scarred hand as we discussed missing persons cases. How the hell had he gotten involved with Evans?

Unless he’d been in on it the entire time.

At least no one had shot me. As long as my heart held up, I’d make it out of this.