Page 83 of Claiming His Bunny
I knock, gently at first, then with more force. “Hello?!” As I pound on it, the door slides open a little, revealing trash scattered over the filthy floor. The interior of the house is murky, the boarded windows not allowing much light in, and the air is pungent with the smell of rot and mold. What a lovely place.
“Is anyone there?!” I call again. “Georgia?”
A baby starts wailing somewhere inside the house, hastening my decision to enter.
Legally, I’m not allowed to do this. I should call the police and wait for them to arrive. But Arya and Georgia might be in danger, so fuck the rules!
Dust invades my nose as I breathe in the stale air, and I have to suppress the urge to sneeze. “Georgia? Are you here? It’s Kayla. You asked me to come. Please, talk to me.”
The baby cries seem to be coming from a room in the back, so I cross the mostly empty living room to get there. “Georgia?”
Footsteps finally sound in the darkness ahead. A tall figure appears, most of their features concealed by an oversized hoodie. “Not here, I’m afraid,” a male, hauntingly familiar voice snickers.
A chill runs through me, causing my blood to turn to ice and my body to go numb. Benjamin Adams is standing five feet away from me, holding a phone. Georgia’s phone, judging by the gold and black glitter pattern on the case. He taps the screen and the baby wailing sound immediately stops.
Adams pulls his hood off, his white teeth glinting in a vicious smirk. “Took you long enough to get here, bitch, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here and I can finally make you pay.”
Chapter 46
Ethan
I rush out ofmy office, not even stopping to lock the door. If anyone wants to rob me, they’re free to try. I’ll kill them later. Now, I have to get to Kayla as fast as I can, because I have a terrible feeling something is wrong.
Why would Georgia text for help, then not pick up the phone? What would a young mother be doing in the worst part of the town, in a house that’s been empty for the last fifteen years? It makes no sense.
I still haven’t been able to find Adams, and the possibility that he’s behind this is like a block of ice in my stomach. If he hurts Kayla…
Shaking my head, I push the thought aside. I can’t think about that or I’ll lose my mind. I can’t—“Oh!”
Too busy to watch where I’m going, I crash into someone the second I step out onto the street. My phone slips out of my hand, clattering on the sidewalk, and hot coffee soaks the front of my shirt.
“Shit! Ethan? Oh fuck, I’m sorry, man.” It’s David Butterman, the man who beat me at the Bluebell Bullseye Legends final a few weeks ago. Also a man I usually call my friend, when he isn’t bumping into me and showering me with scalding liquids.
“Fuck, are you okay?” David asks, staring at my wet chest. “It wasn’t too hot, was it?”
“No,” I grunt, even though it was. “It’s fine, David.” I pick up my phone and frown at the shattered screen. It won’t turn on.
David runs a hand through his hair. “Damn, that’s done for, isn’t it? I’m so fucking sorry, Ethan. I’ll pay for a new one. This was totally my fault. I wasn’t looking. Just let me know when you get a new one, and I’ll—”
“It’s fine.” It’s not, but I don’t have time to discuss a broken phone right now. “Forget it, David. I’m sorry, but I really have to go.” Sliding the dead phone into my pocket, I circle my car and open the driver’s door.
“It’s not fine,” David argues. He bends down to pick up his now empty coffee cup. Instead of standing back up, he drops onto his knees and peers under my car. “Hey, Ethan? I think you’re leaking oil.”
I crouch beside the car, irritated by yet another delay. Ice-cold dread replaces my irritation as I watch a pearl of clear liquid gather at a cut in a black rubber hose and drop into a sizable puddle below. “That’s not oil,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “That’s break fluid.”
If I got into that car, I could have died, but that’s not what’s causing my voice to tremble. It’s fear for Kayla, visceral and all-consuming.
The hose was cut on purpose, and whoever did it either wanted me dead or away from Kayla. Kayla, who’s been lured into an abandoned house and who most certainly didn’t listen to my instructions about waiting in the fucking car.
“Jesus Christ, man.” David shakes his head, his eyes wide like saucers. “Good thing I ran into you, then.”
“Yeah,” I rasp. It was a good thing. But now I have no car and Kayla is in danger. “I need your truck, David.”
“My truck?”
Some of my darkness must be showing through my carefully maintained exterior because David steps back, his eyes widening even further. “Yes, your truck.” I do my best to sound calm even though all I want is to scream.
If I have to, I’ll punch him and steal his car keys, but I’d rather avoid that. David is the closest thing I have to a friend, and I don’t want to hurt him, especially since he might have just saved my life. “Please, David. Have I ever asked you for anything? I need to be somewhere, and I need to be there fast. Give me the keys.”
