Page 36 of The Madman's Nightmare
“I thought you were . . .” I allowed the tears to fall, and he dropped the bandage before leaning over and wrapping his arms around me.
His words of love, safety, and forever filled my ears as his warmth surrounded me, driving away the painful memories. When the crying subsided, he released his arms from around me and placed a soft kiss on my lips.
“I couldn’t survive without you,” he whispered.
All I could do was nod, feeling his love and devotion to me. Devlin sat back and took a sip of water and turned to look at me.
“I think James needs to help explain some of this, to but everything into context. Then, as much as I don’t want to, we need to ask you some questions,” he explained.
“James went to see Regan and said he’d be back in a bit,” I returned, and Devlin pulled his phone out and sent a message.
His phone chimed and he read the response before say, “Ten minutes.”
My position wasn’t comfortable, so I shifted and made a noise that had Devlin looking at me with pain in his eyes. I know he hated to see me hurting, but this wasn’t going away overnight. He picked up the joint from the floor where he’d dropped it with the bandage and lit the tip.
“See if this helps,” he encouraged as he handed it to me.
This was smoother than most weed, but it still irritated my throat, resulting in a small cough. That was painful on my ribs, but I hit it four or five times and handed it to him. The numbing effect was building and when the discomfort ebbed to a manageable level, he smiled at me and took my hand into his.
“What are we going to do about the boys?” he asked.
“Chuck and Blaire are going to keep them at Gunner and Sadie’s until those two are caught, and some of my bruises fade.”
“Are you okay with that?” he questioned.
“They are safe with the Death Hounds, and Chuck won’t let anything hurt them. Let them stay until you kill those two fuckers,” I reasoned, feeling a level of spite and hatred that scared me a little.
The elevator chimed and Devlin picked up his gun and turned to face the opening doors. James stepped out and saw the gun in his hand before he shook his head. “Lucian and Regan will be down in a minute. Do you think you can manage not to shoot anyone?”
Devlin placed the gun back onto the table and remarked, “I didn’t shoot you, did I?”
James rolled his eyes and walked up to the back of the couch before asking, “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had my meds and smoked a little, so better,” I reasoned, and he offered a smile.
“I think we should get started before Lucian and Regan get here,” Devlin spoke, and James’s face turned serious before he walked around and took a seat in one of the chairs facing the couch.
“Why is Regan coming?” I questioned.
James explained, “She’s been looking into a phone we got from someone associated with the siblings.” I gave him a confused look, so he backed up and started again. “Kendra and Bradon hired someone to bring something from Nashville, and we acquired his phone in the search for you.”
“Acquired?” I asked, not needing to ask how or why.
They both offered a nod, and it would have been almost comical, if the situation hadn’t been so serious. I looked between them and demanded, “Start from the beginning.”
Devlin sighed. He explained how after Marco’s death, they appeared out of nowhere. James filled in how they became an integral part of their enterprise in the Flats, and that when she became too attached, they had to cast them out.
“But we still don’t know where they came from and who they really are,” Devlin remarked. “Even with some of the data we discovered while looking for you, I can’t be sure.”
“His name isn’t Bradon. At least it wasn’t the first time I met him,” I said, and they stared at me, so I explained. “My first semester of college, he was this guy in class. He sat beside me a few times. He said his name was Michael.”
Devlin and James looked at each other then James stood from his seat and walked down the hallway toward Devlin’s office. He returned a minute later with a laptop, opened it, and began typing.
Spinning his computer to face me, he asked, “Is this him?”
I saw a picture of the man who fed me and then beat me during my captivity but looking like I remembered him from college. I nodded as I spoke. “He and I had a soda one day, and that was the last time I saw him.”
“Do you remember when that was?” James asked as he turned the computer back to face him.
