Page 45 of For the Love of a Boy

Seth raced through the house, desperate to put a locked barrier between him and his pursuer. He crashed into the closed door of the garage, unable to control his forward momentum. A muscled arm wrapped around his throat, trapping him in a headlock. Seth scrabbled at Daryl’s arm, jerking up his legs then kicking against the woof panel and forcing the both backwards. They both stumbled, almost losing their footing, but Daryl got the upper hand on him again.

“Andy!” Daryl growled. “Don’t just stand there like a pussy. Help me!”

Seth kicked and scratched then stomped on Daryl’s instep with the heel of his Converse-covered foot. Daryl howled and loosened his hold enough that Seth was able to slip out of his arms. He staggered forward, gasping for air. The doorknob was so close…

Daryl tackled him from behind, slamming them both to the floor. His breath was knocked from his lungs and Seth saw stars. Jenny screamed. In his dazed state, he mused that he hadn’t realized she’d followed them inside.

Daryl straddled Seth, and he was effectively pinned by his larger attacker. He found himself losing hope that he’d be able to escape, certain that he’d end his days strapped in a chair or imprisoned in a blackened room.

That he’d never see Daddy again.

Daryl and Andy were yelling back and forth while Jenny cried and attempted to shout over them both. Their words were jumbled, but fear sliced through his gut the moment Daryl barked, “Keep him still, Andy! I don’t want the needle to break off.”

Seth roared a string of curses, bucking and jerking—anything to escape being pumped full of drugs again. At the prick of a needle, an immediate warmth surged through his veins and he let out a sob, a tear escaping as he struggled to remain conscious.

I tried, Daddy. Please remember how much I loved you.

* * * *

Right as Malcolm pulled into Nate’s parking lot, his phone burst to life. Instead of engaging the blue tooth, he gave himself a moment to park. Malcolm furrowed his brow and he looked at the caller ID.

It was Nate.

“Hey, I just pulled into the lot. I’ll be right—”

“Never mind that, head back to your place!”

Malcolm’s belly tightened. He’d never heard Nate sound so frantic. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“A friend of Seth’s called the Idaho detectives with a tip that some church members were coming down here to convince Seth not to testify. But he couldn’t reach them other than to leave a message. So then—”

“Shit, you’re right, Nate. Tell me the rest later. Call the cops, I’m heading home.”

Malcolm didn’t bother with a goodbye. He put the truck in gear then tore out of the lot. The temptation to blow through stoplights was huge, but getting himself or anyone else killed wouldn’t help matters. He clutched the steering wheel, his knuckles going white as he attempted to keep his terror at bay.

The word ‘convince’ had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He tried to will himself to calm the fuck down. Nate would call the police and they’d likely get there much sooner than him. They’d also be more equipped to deal with a potentially volatile situation. Malcolm but the inside of his cheek so hard, he tasted blood.

As he drove what suddenly seemed like a thousand-mile trip, he chanted to himself that it would all be okay. Seth was safe. Seth was fine. Those church people couldn’t possibly know where he was anyway, so he had nothing to worry about.

With a groan, realized he should’ve called Seth before racing away from Nate’s. Malcolm wanted to kick his own ass. But he didn’t dare take the time to stop, so he pressed forward, repeating his mantra that everything was okay.

Malcolm pulled up to their house and noted with concern that an unfamiliar vehicle was parked on the street directly in front of their mailbox. He glanced up the walkway and his concern changed to horror that the door was ajar.

Everything happened in a blur. Malcolm jumped from the truck then hopped over the short, picket fence gate. He sped up the walkway and past the threshold. His heart jumped into his throat at the sound of shouts in the direction of kitchen. Malcolm burst into the room and was met with the vision of a large man dragging an unconscious Seth by his arms across the floor.

His stomach lurched. He hoped unconscious was all Seth was. “Let go of him, you fucker!”

Malcolm rammed into Seth’s attacker, knocking him into the kitchen table, both of them tumbling over the chairs. A woman’s scream echoed in the room as Malcolm grappled with the beefy man who’d dared to touch Seth. It was only then he realized there were others present. Fighting with one asshole at a time was all Malcolm could handle. He had no clue how many there were or if they had weapons.

He hoped like hell the cops would arrive soon.

“Daryl! Never mind! Let’s get outta here!”

Seth’s attacker punched Malcolm’s temple, but Malcolm held on with all his might. Clearly, the man he was fighting was Daryl, and the dickhead was trying to flee. Malcolm wrapped his legs around him and rolled them so he could pin him beneath the weight of his body. No way was he letting him get away.

Shouts erupted all around him. The police were ordering everyone to lie flat and extend their arms away from their bodies. Before Malcolm had the chance to comply, he was yanked by the collar off Daryl. He fell to his stomach, following their instructions. Malcolm turned his head, searching for Seth and whether anyone was helping him. The officers were busy cuffing Seth’s attackers, but no one was paying attention to his boy.

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