Page 31 of The Eleventh Hour

I hang up the phone and realise I’ve got another text. I open the image to see a picture of me folded over on the ground in my apartment building. This was taken seconds ago. Bile rushes up my throat, my skin prickles as fear spreads. I whip around, looking down the corridor both ways. I can’t see anyone. But my skin ripples with fear. The usual sounds of the apartment building are muted. I back down the stairs, feeling my way. When I’m halfway, I whirl and race for the exit.

It’s a relief to be on the street, but I watch everyone who walks past, taking note of the way they look at me or don’t. Looking at their clothes, looking for weapons. In ten minutes, I’m exhausted, and the headache is reaching a new level. When Dane’s car pulls up, I wrench open the back door, slide in, and sigh with relief.

It’s only when he’s driving down the street that I consider that I don’t really know these men. The panic grips me. I can hear them talking, but I can’t understand the words. Rafael turns in the seat and puts a hand on my knee. It’s the lightest touch, it’s a warm anchor back to the present.

The world shrinks down to his face. His light brown hair that looks like its past needing a cut suits him. Light brown eyes that turn gold when the light lands on them radiate warmth and empathy. His face is softer than Dane’s. And he has a faint sprinkling of freckles. His brows lower, and his lips turn downwards.

He reaches out and moves his hand to mine. Warm and strong, it drags me back to reality. I blink, and his lips quirk upwards. The tiny smile tugs at my stomach, melting the cold away, and leaving something warm and good behind.

“You okay now, Jax?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

His smile widens, and it’s impossible to tear my eyes from him. I can’t do this, I can’t. I’ve done this, and it doesn’t end well. With self-loathing, I clear my throat and pull my hand free of his.

He opens his mouth, but Dane interrupts. “Now that you're done melting down, any chance you want to tell us where we’re going?”

“I wasn’t melting down,” I snarl and grind my teeth. He seemed like a nice guy when I first met him. What happened? I glare at the back of his head and try not to wish him dead.

“Of course, not. Just hyperventilating and having a panic attack in a stranger’s car. That’s, like, an everyday occurrence. Totally normal.”

“If you're going to be a dick, you two can drop me off and hunt for Terrance on your own.”

“Ha! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“What does that mean?”

“Dane!” Rafael growls in a cold tone that makes me do a double take. I would never have guessed that sound could come out of him.

Dane grunts. “Where am I driving?” he grits out.

“Drive out to the mine,” I snarl.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Rafael slumps in his seat. This is not the pretty cherry red car but a more sedate SUV. It doesn’t smell new.

“You heard?”

My face tightens, and then I nod sharply.

“They’re saying he’s back.”

“Conveniently,” Dane hisses under his breath. I almost miss it, but I just catch the sound, and my body goes rigid as I realise what his problem is.

“Oh, I see. You think I’m in on this? I helped him get rid of Terrance. You blame me?” I say it mockingly, but it still cuts deep.

“You keep a hell of a lot of secrets,” Dane growls and drives into the lookout and slams the car into park. He turns in the seat and leans towards me, ignoring Rafael, who tugs at him.

“Terrance told us all about this woman he met, this wonderful, amazing woman. A few weeks later, he’s gone, and so are you. And then, lo-and-behold, there you are in the news. Your face splashed on every paper, every internet article, every radio and TV station, and you wouldn’t talk. You never said a goddamn word. But he knew you, and you knew him. And no one cared what we said or when we reported his disappearance. He is my BROTHER, and I won’t stop until I find him.”

I’m pressed up against the back seat, trying to get away from Dane’s rage. I knew he was angry, but there is so much bottled up, so much emotion. He’s so intense. A part of me is afraid, the other half is impressed with his control. I open the car door and slip out into the bitter air.

I walk to the edge of the lookout and let my eyes trace over the remains of the mine.

“Fifty years ago, this mine was shut down when they realised asbestos was toxic. By then, it was too late. Too many people had been exposed, they started to get sick. But the only industry that could supply jobs here was a lumber company. There were too many people and not enough jobs. Too many who are now sick, stuck here with nowhere else to go. Even though they cleaned it all up, it’s still here, it’s still in the people who live here.”

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