Page 87 of Slaughter

He and my men have been out looking for any trace of the car. Of her. I told him not to return until he had something helpful. If it’s Damon, as I think it is, she could already be on a jet and heading toward Cuba. The realization of that has my knees buckling.

He shakes his head. “But I need to speak to you.”

“Then get your ass back out there!” I bark, pointing at my closed door. “I don’t have time …” I pull my cell out of my pocket.

“Who are you calling?” Tristan asks.

“Fritz. I want wheels up in twenty.”

“Where the hell are you going?” he demands.

“Cuba …”

Tristan snatches the phone from my hands. “You’re not fucking thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking that the fucking bastard …”

“I agree with your brother. It has to be an inside job.” Kayn interrupts me.

I run a hand through my hair. Fuck, Bunny! Just hold on. I’m gonna find you.

“You have an idea of who it is?” Tristan asks.

“I do.”

I walk over to him and grab him by the collar of his shirt. “Then fucking spit it out!” I shout.

He stays calm. “I need you to promise you won’t act …”

“I’ll rip his fucking throat out!” They all know I don’t make promises!

“Right away. If I’m right, he will take us to her. But you have to be patient.”

How the fuck am I supposed to be patient? Someone could be raping her. Beating her. She could have already been sold. And I’ll never see her again. The thought is paralyzing. I release Kayn and stumble back a step. My brother grabs my arm, but I pull away.

“Who is it?” Tristan asks.

He takes in a deep breath. “Darrell.”

“No!” I say, shaking my head. “He wouldn’t touch her.” I know he had hit her, but he knows firsthand what I would do to a man who would dare take her from me.

“Sir, please. Just hear me out.”

The plea in Kayn’s voice makes me pause. I’ve never heard him ask please before. The man is six-foot-four and almost three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He takes what he wants. He doesn’t beg or plead.

“Why him?” I ask, and my throat tightens. Kayn’s been by my side for years, and he doesn’t fuck around. If he thinks Darrell is behind it, then he has reasons. He wouldn’t make that accusation lightly.

“By the way he is with her.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I snap.

He doesn’t flinch from my harsh tone. “Have you watched the tape from yesterday?”

“Yes. I’ve watched it fifty fucking times, but what does that have to do with anything?” I can’t watch them cuff her, cut her, and take her anymore. I can’t do it.

“No, I mean the tape when we all returned home.”

“No,” my brother answers, but I’m already going over to my screen to pull up the surveillance from when I know they arrived.

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