Page 140 of Lethal Danger

A girl, a teenager, whimpered from under the arm Uncle Pierce had wrapped around her neck.

And he held a gun to her temple.

Forty

“Lord, please protect Rebekah.” Hawthorne whispered the prayer in the silence of his car, pressing the gas pedal as far as he dared without attracting the kind of attention that would only slow him down.

He looked at the GPS he’d activated on his phone to calculate how many minutes away he was from the fairgrounds. Still twenty-five.

He smacked the wheel with his open palm.

Regret and guilt more bitter than he’d ever felt gnawed at his insides. How could he have let this happen?

Rebekah had taken matters into her own hands because he hadn’t been able to solve Sam’s murder fast enough. And now she could be in the hands of the killer himself.

Hawthorne had almost called the police the moment he’d learned Rebekah was at the fair. But he’d realized just in time the mistake that would be.

The police would contact fair security when on their way, probably have them look for Rebekah.

But security at the fairgrounds tonight was in Butch’s control. He might even be the one who’d answer the call from the police. Then he’d find Rebekah for sure, if he hadn’t already.

“Please, God. Please don’t let him find her. Keep her safe. Protect her.”

Protect her. His own words echoed back at him and stabbed his conscience. Because that was exactly what he should’ve done.

His better instincts had tried to tell him to give her some help and guidance. Protection. But he’d tossed them aside because it seemed to violate the greatest possession in his own life—freedom.

Rebekah wanted freedom, too. That much was clear in the fact that she’d left her family and all she’d known behind to set out on her own, make her own decisions, craft her own life. Who was he to stand in the way of that when he’d done the same?

He couldn’t steal the freedom she’d given up everything to have by being an overbearing control freak.

But as he pictured her at the fair, possibly running from a killer, maybe already caught by him, and—

No. Hawthorne tightened his fingers around the wheel. That couldn’t happen. He couldn’t have made that big of a mistake.

Despite his excuses, there was no denying it was a mistake. A catastrophic one.

Rebekah was only a kid, completely alone in the world. And she’d come to him for help. Not only help with Sam’s death.

He’d heard it in the way she’d spoken of their brother, wondering if Hawthorne ever talked to him. In the story she told of her doubt she would’ve been able to find Hawthorne if he hadn’t been an author with a website. And in the glistening tears in her eyes when she’d admitted she missed their parents.

Had she wanted him to be involved in her life? To care enough to check her freedom a little with his concern for her safety and well-being?

She had asked him if he’d go to a movie or hang out with her. He knew he’d disappointed her when he had said he was too busy. But hadn’t it been better to help her preserve and enjoy her freedom instead of relying on him—a brother who would be gone in two weeks?

He swallowed, slipping the car into the right lane to catch the exit ramp off the freeway.

The burn in his chest from his searing conscience gave him the answer to his own questions. And to another he hadn’t formed into words, even in his thoughts.

Why? Why had he left her vulnerable?

He’d told himself he was staying out of her life to give her freedom. But the truth smacked him in the face so hard he winced.

He hadn’t gotten involved because he wanted to guard his own freedom. It was for him. So he didn’t feel tied down, didn’t have to watch out for anyone but himself. So he wouldn’t have to set aside what he wanted to do or how he wanted to live for someone else.

He’d done the same thing with Jazz. The look on her face that he’d never forget flared in his memory—the palpable sting of rejection. Who knew the full extent of the damage his words and actions may be having on her.

But at least refusing to risk his freedom to care about Jazz hadn’t sent her into danger. Like Rebekah.

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