Page 41 of Crossing Lines

“Fuck. You!” The pop of flesh against flesh had me on my feet. He was hurting my brother. This bastard was going to die. Slowly.

“Carter, where are you?” I snarled into the phone as I grabbed my backpack. I needed to get out of here and find him.

“County...road...15. Nelson farm...barn…the old one…” His voice was so low now. Tears burned in my eyes.Please God, keep my baby boy safe until I get there.

“I’m on my way. You touch him again?—”

“You’ll do nothing.” The line went dead.

I shoved my phone in my pocket. “I’ll do something, all right. You sorry sack of shit.” I wrenched open the door and stopped short.

Jack Davenport stood there, his hand up, poised to knock. I squinted, pushed past him, and ran toward my truck. I didn’t have time for his shit right now. I threw the backpack inside, dropped the tailgate, and was climbing up before Davenport got to the side of my truck.

I used my thumb to open my locked toolbox. The front folded out to reveal my gear. I stripped out of my sweatpants, pulled on a pair of leather pants. Those pants cost me more than I ever thought imaginable, but they were worth every penny. A Kevlar-lined tank went over the one I had tucked into my pants. My vest, each pocket stocked with a number of things I might need, went on next. The plates inside it would keep bullets out of me, and that was the best I could hope for right now. I said a silent prayer as I got ready. I needed the grace of the spirits, God, anyone else who could help to keep me and my baby safe—because come hell or high water, I was going in that barn and getting my brother back.

“Where are you going?”

“How did you just happen upon me?” I jerked my new bat up from its spot in the box. My duffel bag came next.

“I’m across the drive. Saw you come in last night.”

Fucking stalker.

“So, where are you off to? Is Tracey meeting you?” And it was his businesswhy? I hated nosey fuckers.

“Jesus, do you have an off button? If not, I can give you one.” He pressed a hand to the side of the toolbox. I glared. “Move it or lose it. I ain’t got time for your questions.” Was he deaf? Or just stupid?

I closed the box, hoping he hadn’t moved his hand. It would serve him right. I grabbed my bat and bag and hopped down. I pushed the tailgate up until it locked, then went around to the driver’s door. Davenport followed me, obviously not taking thehint. I bit the inside of my cheek as I tossed my things in and started to climb up.

“Where are you going?” he asked again, his meaty hand holding the door open.

I glared. “To kill a mother fucker. Now, move.”

“Ah, I can’t let you do that.” He grabbed at my arm. A look of madness clouded his eyes. “If you get him now, I’ll lose too much.”

What?It took a second for things to snap in place.

“He has my brother. Fuck off!” I debated pulling my Glock, but instead decided to just go old school. I snarled in rage and kicked out, clipping him in the shin. He jostled back. It wasn’t enough. A roundhouse punch knocked him to the ground with a loud grunt. The door slammed, the truck roared to life, and I was throwing up gravel by the time he got up. Stupid mother fucker! I let out a scream and slammed my hands down on the steering wheel.

“You’ll be next!” I screamed in the empty cab. He knew that sick bastard had my brother.

My mind went back to the directions. My concentration wavered with dread. Nelson farm, the old barn off country road 15. I knew it well. We’d all been out there a time or ten as teens. They used to have summer bonfires and cookouts. That all stopped after old man Nelson died about ten years ago. Now it was just his widow, Mrs. Lorna, out there.

If I cut up the back road between their farm and the Jenkins farm, the fucker wouldn’t see me coming. I just hoped that the old road was in traveling shape. If I needed to get out and run, we were fucked on a fast and easy getaway. There was two miles of thick brush between the farms. Fucking hell.

Twenty minutes later, I stopped on the side of the old dirt road. The overgrown weeds and brambles concealed me from prying eyes. Thankfully it wasn’t this overgrown close to thebarn. It gave me a vantage point to spy from. The potholes and mud holes hadn’t been as bad as I had expected, but it did take a little longer to get down here than I wanted.

My gut tightened as I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed before I thought better of it. What I hadn’t expected was seeing another car pull up in front of the barn. Davenport got out and stormed toward the doors. My stomach dropped. Was he really in on this? He had been there when Trace and Chip were hurt. Not to mention the other men that had been hurt that night. And now… “Oh yeah, fucker. You’re mine now.”

A new anger rolled through me as I slid from the truck, leaving the door open slightly. My bat and duffel came with me. I had a new toy I wanted to try out. Why not now? The small rifle was encased in a black carbon box. The darts that went with it lay ready, waiting for me. I loaded it, put three capped-darts in a pocket, and shoved the bag out of the way. I pulled on fingerless leather gloves, flexed my fingers, and grabbed my bat. Louis the Second fit perfectly in my gloved hand.

There was no one waiting to keep me from jumping the ragged fence, but I was careful to not make any noise. A surprise attack was my best bet.

“I’m coming for you, fuckers. Ready or not.”

Tracey

I hadn’t made it more than a few steps when a body blocked my way. Chip’s brows were twisted as he looked at me. “What is it?” I shook my head and tried to move around him.

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