Page 121 of Cruel Dominion

Idiot.

Fucking idiot.

Tile cracked under my fist, biting into the thin skin over my knuckles and raiding down over the floor.

A vision of Anna’s emerald eyes closing forever filled my head and I tore at my hair to get rid of it, as if I could pull it out by the root, hot air sawing out through my teeth.

If I believed that, it would break me—and I couldn’t afford to imagine it. Not when she needed me to find her.

I focused on the bathroom, looking for clues. The struggle was contained here. There wasn’t any other blood that I could see, and nobody had bothered to clean up. How the hell did they get in?

Paulson picked up on the first ring.

“She’s gone.”

“We’re already searching. My guys are trying to sort out what went wrong.”

“I don’t care what went wrong. I need you to find. Her.” Two more punches to the tile to sate the fire in my blood.

“I know and we will. Give me time, Mr. Cole.”

Anna might not have time.

“Do you have a location for Josh Porter?” I demanded, already moving back through the townhouse, ignoring Summer following several paces behind me.

Out the front windows, blue and red lights flashed over the neighborhood.

“Not exactly,” Paulson said. I heard him typing on his keyboard. “He’s been moving between motels like we said, but he did come closer to the city. Last known location was Prescott.”

That was way too close.

“But we don’t have a lead on his current whereabouts. The guy’s not a total idiot. He knows someone’s following him, and?—”

“Find him. Or it’s your head. And Paulson?”

“Yeah boss?”

“Which of our men was responsible for watching all movement coming in and out of the house?”

He paused, sighing. “Chris Waterstone.”

Chris Waterstone was a dead man walking.

I turned on Summer as I peered from the window to the two police vehicles parked at the end of the driveway. “Did you call the fucking cops?”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “No. No I didn’t.”

“Wait, I have something coming in,” Paulson said and I held my breath.

“The cops aren’t there for you,” he said. “They were called by Summer’s neighbor. Something about a stolen vehicle.”

“What vehicle?”

“A silver Prius. We’re trying to get the plates. Hold on.”

I pulled the phone from my mouth. “Your neighbors drive a Prius?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It belongs to my neighbor’s son, Alec. I let him park it in my garage when he comes to town.”

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