Page 52 of Unchained

“Intensely?” His brittle laugh filled her ear. “You reported me for stealing drugs. You got me put in jail, bitch.”

Cam took a steadying breath. She couldn’t make him any angrier than he was, not when her mom was at his mercy. “I know you’re upset with me. But let’s talk about this—”

“Oh, we’re going to talk. After you tell me where you are.”

Brooks met her gaze, and renewed panic flooded her. If Isaac knew she had someone with her he’d be even madder. He didn’t like outsiders knowing about their family business and would hate that he didn’t hold complete control over the situation. She lifted her finger to her lips, which made Brooks scowl even deeper. He cursed under his breath.

“You’ve got three seconds to tell me before I cut Grandma’s throat.”

Fear bubbled up inside her, its acid eating at the lining of her esophagus. “Isaac, don’t!”

Slap!

Her mom’s cry followed. Cam’s heart raced at warp speed. “I’m in Seattle. Please, don’t hurt her! Leave her there and come meet me.”

She didn’t need to lift her gaze to Brooks to see the wild look of indignation on his face.

Isaac’s snicker made creepy-crawlies skitter over her skin. “Send me the address of where you’re staying or I’ll break Grandma’s hand.”

“Wait! Let me talk to M—”

The line went dead in her ear. Her pulse raged against her skull. Brooks’s rough hands took the device from her fingers, then he yanked her into his arms. Her insides trembled. Her mind went back to the day she’d reported Isaac for stealing the drugs—the day she’d walked in on him strangling her mom. So much hate. Isaac hadn’t had a fleeting moment of happiness since Stacey died. Even before, he’d put Stacey through hell with his outbursts and actions. He’d never suffered a consequence until his time in jail, and deep down, Cam had prayed it would be enough to pull him out of his dark place and make him see that he had family around him who cared.

She pressed her face into Brooks’s T-shirt, inhaling the scent that had surrounded her all night. If something happened to her mom, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. She should have insisted they stay together. Splitting up was supposed to throw Isaac off their trail, not make them more vulnerable.

“He said I have to send him the address of where I’m staying or he’ll break my mom’s hand.”

Brooks’s fingers twitched on her back. “Send it.”

“But this is Nash’s safe house.”

“Doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to your mom, and the safe house is meant as a place to hide from worse people than your drug-addict nephew.” He moved his hands reassuringly.

She typed the address into the message box and sent it. “He’ll just show up.”

“Let him.” Brooks’s low baritone evaporated some of her fear, but not enough.

She closed her eyes, and a well of tears emptied onto her cheeks, soaking his shirt. She sniffed and mopped her face with her palm. “How can you say that? He’s angry and wants to get back at me.”

His fingers pressed into the top of her spine and slid down, loosening the tense muscles. Despite her anxiety, she went lax against him like a piece of clay in a molding class.

“He’s not going to hurt her. He’s holding her hostage—he’s got nothing to convince you to see him unless she’s alive and well.”

That tidbit of common sense made her sigh. “You’re right.”

“What area of Arizona is your mom in?”

“Phoenix.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the burner phone Nash had given him. Without moving her from her snuggle spot, he tapped the screen. “He’s twenty-one hours away, which means, at best, he won’t be here until early afternoon tomorrow. Unless they fly.”

Cam lifted her shoulders and shook her head. “No, Isaac is terrified of airplanes.”

He returned his phone to his pocket then placed his palm on the top of her head, tipping it back so she was forced to meet his stare. “Well, that rules flying out. Can you hang in there until then?”

She searched his eyes. The liquid blues emanated concern. The skin around his eyes bunched, and her fingertips ached to smooth the wrinkle in his brow. “I don’t have much choice.”

Ding, dong

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