Page 97 of Guarded from Treachery

I’m so scared.

As I take the corner, my car comes nearly up on two wheels. Horns squawk angrily behind me.

My phone buzzes with a call, the signature Blade and Arrow tone. With one eye still glued to the little tracking display, I’m loath to answer the phone and lose sight of Isla’s dot for a second.

But it’s my team. And I need to answer.

Right now, I need them.

But please. Oh, please. Let Isla be okay.

Jabbing the screen, I answer the call with a barked, “Isla’s in trouble. I’m en route now.”

Dante’s voice comes through the speaker. He sounds calm, but his voice carries an undercurrent of urgency. “Xav and Rhi are here. I’m bringing Rhi while Xav stays back. We’ll be on the road in less than two minutes. Speeding, we should make it to Seguin in under fifteen.”

My molars grind to dust as I try to keep from yelling. It’s not his fault he can’t be here right away. “Okay,” I grit out. “Can you call the police? I don’t want to?—”

Cozy Cuppa comes up on my left, the parking lot still scattered with cars. Not as many as before, but still more than enough.

More than enough people to help Isla.

So why aren’t they?

If she’s hurt, why don’t I hear the telltale sirens on the way?

“I’m here,” I finish. “I’m going in.”

There’s silence for a second. Then, “Okay. We’re on the road.” He pauses. “She’s going to be okay, Matt. Don’t assume the worst.”

Easy for him to say. His fiancée is safely at home.

Shit.

I know that’s not fair. Dante understands better than most.

But I’m just so fucking scared.

I jerk the car into park and jab the ignition, then leap out before it stops moving completely.

I’m a few steps to the shop before rational thought kicks in.My Sig.Was I really going to go rushing in unarmed?

Shit. I lunge at the car door and practically rip it open. I reach into the glove box and grab my gun, taking the briefest of pauses to make sure it’s loaded.

Of course it is. I always keep my Sig loaded and ready. If I weren’t at the community center, I would have already had it on me. But spending time around kids, it didn’t seem right.

I shove the Sig into the back of my waistband as I approach the shop, not wanting to alarm anyone who might be looking outside. Resisting the urge to sprint, I move at a quick jog instead. If there’s someone inside who’s holding Isla hostage, threatening to hurt her, I don’t want to give them cause for alarm.

Instead of going straight to the door, I head to the left, taking a quick look through the picture window as I do so.

To my shock, there’s no one there.

No one.

All the tables are vacant. Not empty, there are still cups and plates with food still on them. A few chairs have purses hanging from the backs. There are even a couple of shopping bags sitting on the floor beside the tables.

Further back, the counter is unmanned. The typical three or four employees on duty are gone.

Gone.

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