Page 74 of Don't You Pucking Dare

But today's different. Her face is streaked with tears and Kiah isn’t in here.

"Duchess." I keep my voice neutral. Crying girls are nothing new. She crashes into me, fingers gripping my shirt. I let her, pressing my lips to her hair.

"My mom." Her voice breaks. "She's not at the facility." Each word comes faster, panic rising. "What if she's still in a trunk somewhere, Brody? What am I going to do? Those pictures he sent—I feel like that makes me an accomplice. You told me not to go to the police and I listened because I was scared of making you angry, but now..."

"Shh." I press her face into my chest, muffling her hysteria.

She pulls back, eyes sharp despite the tears. "Did they really search the trunks like you said?"

"I don't know."

"So you lied?"

I drag her back against me. "I told them to look. Whether they did or not—I can't confirm what I didn't see. I wasn’t there, so I’m not going to tell you that they did. Understand?"

"Do I go to the police now?" She breaks away, pacing like a caged animal. "What if she's dead? He sent me those pictures, Brody. He's fucking insane! What if she’s dead in his trunk?" Her hand covers her mouth in disbelief.

"Keep it down."

"I waited too long." Fresh tears fall. "I was too fucked up from the drugs, the hangover... if she's dead because I didn't—" Her voice cracks. "I can feel it, Brody. She's in some trunk somewhere, and she didn’t make it. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

I catch her mid-pace, trap her against my chest until her breathing steadies. "What do you want to do?"

She wipes her face on my shirt. "I need to find her."

"Let's think." My hands find her shoulders. "If she's alive, where would she go?"

Something shifts in her eyes. "Her best friend's house, probably."

"Then we go there."

"No, I can't involve—"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" I cut her off. "Get your shit."

"But I just said—"

"Trust me, Duchess." A smile tugs at my mouth. "Her friend won't even know we're there. Let's go."

Some problems need a Reaper's touch to solve.

Chapter 32

Brody's black Range Rover idles across from Sarah's house, engine purring quietly in the autumn afternoon. I keep sneaking glances at him, trying to reconcile this version—the one who wipes away my tears and drives me across town looking for my mom—with the man who tortured me in that chamber. It's like he's two different people, and I'm not sure which one's real.

The GPS brought us to this quiet suburban street where Sarah's lived my whole life. Mom used to drop me here when she couldn't handle being a mother anymore. Now I'm back, watching the house like some kind of amateur detective with a Reaper at my side.

"What now?" The house sits still and silent, no sign of life behind its drawn curtains. No indication of my mom.

"We wait." Brody's voice carries none of his usual edge. "Watch for movement."

"What if she's not here?" My fingers twist in my lap. "What if—"

"One problem at a time, Duchess." His eyes scan the street, taking in details I probably miss. This isn't his first stakeout, I realize. The Reapers have trained him for exactly this kind of thing. Or did he learn this all on his own?

"She could be anywhere." The words taste bitter. "After being locked up in that crazy place for so long..."

"She’s a druggie, right? Where would an addict go for a fix?"

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