Page 69 of No Second Chances

Remy snorts. “It’s him.”

I look at Teri. “Keep him here.” When I turn around to see Dom and Remy standing there, ready to go, I nod. “Call the girlfriend. Tell her to lock the door and keep her on the line.” Teri is already murmuring to Henley to get Lexi’s phone number. “Make sure she tells us if anything changes.”

I nod to the men who will always have my back. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve got to call Chief Townsend too,” Teri calls out to my back. “Try to get there before he stops you.”

“He’s not stopping shit,” Remy growls. “That’s my sister.”

“Fuck that,” I snap at him. “She’s the love of my life.”

My cruiser leads the way, with Remy and Dom following right behind. I hear, even though I don’t process it, Teri’s call for backup and a supervisor to the address, but I don’t care.

The entire drive, I see Kennedy. Hurt and bloody like she was in those photos. I see her superimposed on Mallory’s dead body. I see her in pain, crying and needing me there for her.

The radio on my chest clicks. “I’m not going to lose her, Linc.” Remy’s voice breaks through the static. “I don’t care what we have to do.”

Two clicks from another mic, followed by two more. And another two. Over and over again. Our own silent show of support, but I don’t care. I need to get to Kennedy. Everything else can wait.

I turn off the siren when I approach his street and let my lights go with it. Every car behind me follows suit, and I roll up to Royal’s house silently. When I get out of my cruiser and shut the door, Remy and Dom are right there with me.

Carter rolls right behind, blocking the other side of the road. Instead of moving to the front of the building, he runs to the small gray compact car that sits across the street.

“Amie’s out,” he calls out quietly. “But she’s breathing. Smells like he used something on her, though. Ether or chloroform.”

We are already moving toward the house, and Carter stays with Amie. My phone starts to vibrate, but I don’t bother checking it. Anyone calling will be trying to tell me not to go in, and that isn’t going to happen.

“If you go in without a warrant, you could lose your jobs.” I don’t give two shits about myself, but I figure I should warn Remy and Dom about the danger.

My only answer is for them to pull out their guns and walk up the steps to Royal’s house.

“I’ll take the back door,” Dom says and walks away without looking back.

“You may love her, but she’s my sister, and no one is gonna hurt my family.” Remy motions for me to take the lead, and I try the doorknob quietly while I wait for Dom to indicate that he’s made it to the back door.

It is locked. “Fuck.”

Two mic clicks on my chest tell me Dom is in place and ready to breach. I answer with a single click and then boot-stomp the front door to breach. Thankfully, the wood splinters; otherwise, I may have broken my foot.

I hear Dom make entry at the back door, and we go in, guns ready. As a unit, we clear the bottom floor. But we aren’t working as cops anymore. No. We are moving together the way we did in the Marine Corps as a strike team out on a mission.

Before Kennedy forced her way back into my life, the thought would have sent me into a raging attack where I’d be left with nothing but an empty stomach and a migraine for days. But now, nothing is worse than the thought of what Royal is doing to her.

Dom whistles and falls in behind us. “Kitchen and back half clear,” he whispers.

“Front half clear,” Remy tells him.

Something hits the floor upstairs, and we move together up the hall.

“Let me go first,” Dom orders. “Neither of you are prepared for what we might find.”

I don’t want to move. I don’t care what happened or what I see. But he is right. If Royal hurt her, I’ll put a bullet in his head. No trial, arrest, jury, or sentence will make me pull back, either. There will be no mercy. No hesitation. I meant it when I had Royal by the arm and warned him not to touch her.

Dom elbows his way to the front, and I adjust my gun hand to account for his presence. He doesn’t wait. We clear every room on the floor until the last one. The one that is cracked open, with grunting coming from the other side of the door.

I’m going to be sick. My stomach churns, and the image of Royal using a weapon to hurt her fills my head. I glance at Remy, who stands at my side, and his face is as white as a sheet. Neither of us should be walking through that door. But nothing short of a bullet to the chest will stop either of us.

Dom pushes open the door with the hand not holding his gun, and we step in behind him, fanning out immediately.

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