Page 37 of Protected from Malice
I can call, pretending to be Wyatt. But I can’t go off to meet this guy and leave Eden behind. Although… I could drop her off at the police station on the way. Then she’d be safe while I go after the person behind this.
The last thing I want is to be apart from Eden for a second.
Shit. If Indy were here, or Niall, or Xavier… or, fuck, any of my old buddies, this wouldn’t be an issue.
Still. I need to do something.
“When did you talk to him last?” I demand.
“An hour ago. While I was waiting in the parking lot.”
“Good. Now you’re going to tell this guy you have the woman. Ask him where to meet.”
“No!” Real fear fills his eyes. “He said if I turned on him, he’d kill me. Kill my family.”
“Or I could just kill you and be done with it.”
The man—Greg, aka Wyatt—blinks. Whimpers. Then he nods. “Okay.”
I quickly find the number in question and dial it. After one ring, a mechanical voice answers, “Is it done?” Shoving the phone at Greg, I gesture at him to respond.
Silence hangs.
Then Greg whispers, “I… Yes… I… found her.”
Fuck. His voice is actuallyshaking.
“Did you really?” the caller asks. “Or are you lying to me? Did you fuck it up again?”
“I tried! I tried! But you didn’t say there’d be someone else there. He broke my fingers! He’s going to kill?—”
The call disconnects.
“You idiot!” I snap. “What the fuck!”
But Greg—aka Wyatt, aka the worst would-be kidnapper possible—has apparently hit his limit. He bursts into noisy sobs, whimpering between them, “Don’t hurt me again. I don’t want to die. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. I just wanted a new car to impress my girlfriend. I just?—”
My fist flies out.
Connects with his jaw.
I don’t hit him hard enough to kill him, even though I desperately want to.
But it’s enough for his eyes to roll back in his head. For his body to go limp.
Fuck.
I stare at him for a second before standing up.
Turning towards Eden, I find her halfway across the room, hovering by the bed. She’s hugging herself, looking more scared and vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her.
“I’m sorry,” I start. “I didn’t want you to see that.”
She takes a deep breath. And another. And another.
I want so badly to comfort her. To reassure her she’s safe.
But what ifI’mthe one she’s scared of now?
