Page 93 of Slaughter

“She’s already dead.” His head falls to the side. He’s starting to lose consciousness.

I stand, the gun resting against my thigh. “Did you get a location on the phone?”

“Yes. But he could already be on the move …”

I look at Kayn. “Leave him here.” Then I turn my back on them and walk past Tristan. “Where is she?” I demand.

“Vancouver.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him. “Here?”

He nods. “About twenty minutes out.”

I look at Darrell’s body and then back at Tristan. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why take her and not run? He’s had her for forty-eight hours.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kayn says. “It could be a trap.”

I run a hand down my face. Think. Vaughn has never been a sane man. Even as a child, he needed help. My mother tried to get it for him before she left us, but my father wouldn’t allow it. He found him and his twisted fucking mind to be perfect.

I look at Tristan. “Call your men.”

He nods. “How many you want?”

“At least ten.” I’m not gonna go in there blind, and I’m also not going to take my men. One of them is currently dying in my warehouse. I can’t trust the others at the moment.

“You’re wasting your time,” Darrell wheezes. Kayn has untied him, and he’s lying on his back next to the chair. “You’re not listening.” He swallows. “She. Is. Dead.” His head falls to the side while he lies in a puddle of his own blood. “Even if you get to her in time … she’ll need …” He coughs, and his body jerks. “Medical attention.”

My chest tightens at his words. He knew exactly what he was doing and still just handed her over.

“Call Lance,” I snap to Tristan. “He can go with us …”

Darrell starts to chuckle roughly and rolls onto his side. “The only men … you can trust … are in this room.” His voice is barely a whisper.

“How do you know that?” Tristan snaps.

His eyes close, and I run over to him. I kick him in the side. “Wake the fuck up!” He doesn’t move.

“He’s lost too much blood.” Kayn sighs. “You’ve killed him.”

Leaning down, I check his neck and I grind my teeth when I feel no pulse. He’s dead. “Motherfucker!” I hiss.

Kayn pulls out his phone. “I have someone. He’s a trauma surgeon. But it’ll cost…”

“Fucking call him! Tell him to meet us back at my house. Then call Marvin and inform him that we are expecting a visitor,” I order, heading toward the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

AVERY

IT TOOK US A TOTAL OF AN hour to get all of Tristan’s men rounded up and in position. And in that hour, I have gone from angry to explosive. I can’t quit imagining her lifeless body lying on the ground, looking up at me. I can’t quit thinking of all the horrible ways he could torture her. Her screams as tears run down her face. She’s so fragile. So small. I haven’t made sure she’s eaten well. It wouldn’t take much to break her. And my brother likes to use his fist. He was always a fighter.

“Avery?” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump. “We’re ready,” Tristan says; his blue eyes stare into mine with worry while we sit in the back seat of my SUV. He knows I’m probably minutes away from going postal on anyone and everyone. Just then my phone dings that I have a message, and I pull it out. It’s from the last person I thought I’d hear from.

Damon: Call me.

“I don’t have time for this …”

Tristan yanks my phone from my hands and types.

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