Page 74 of Searching for Hope

“Present you as a gift to my father. He’ll decide what to do with you. You’re the person who ruined our family so I don’t think it will be anything nice.”

“I ruined your family?”

He hisses in my face. “My mother almost died because of you!”

“How is any of this my fault?”

“The night she found out you were pregnant was the night she got behind the wheel of her car to confront you. She was hysterical. She was drunk. There was a crash.”

A bellowed voice echoes outside. “Keating!”

My eyes snap to my captor’s. We wait, our ears straining to hear more. “Keating!” the voice yells again. “Keating you better fucking open the door right now before I—”

“Fuck!” He curses. I can’t even remember his name. I don’t know if I was ever told it. He was no one to me. The son of the man I had an affair with and nothing more.

“Aaron would never—” He clamps a hand over my mouth. “Shut up,” he hisses. Dragging me back into the bathroom, he reaches into the vanity and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “Get into the bath.”

“But I—”

He shoves me, sending me sprawling to the floor. My head hits the porcelain and a trickle of blood warms my cheek.

“Get the fuck in!” he hisses hysterically, his eyes darting between me and the door.

I climb into the bath, wincing when he tightens one handcuff around my wrist and the other around the faucet.

My mind races. I need to keep him here with me. I need to distract him. Grabbing onto his arm, I pull him close. “You and Odette are siblings,” I say, trying to form some connection between us, one that might stop this insanity. “She’s—”

He yanks his arm away. “Stay,” he orders, as though I have a choice.

I sit trembling and naked in the empty bath. Raised voices float up from below. I strain to hear what they’re saying but the voices are too distorted. There’s crashing and banging. Chaos.

Lowering my head to my knees, I let my tears fall, too scared to hope that the noises from below are the sounds of a savior and not the start of another nightmare.

chapter twenty-five

BERKLEY

Barrett’s foot presses heavily against the accelerator.

I clutch onto the side of the door as we twist and turn through the streets. Jericho’s face flashes between light and dark as we zip under streetlights. His jaw is clenched, the vein under his left eye pulsing with agitation. His hand is clenched in a fist over his knee.

“Faster,” he orders.

Barrett increases speed and I cling to the handle harder to stop myself from being tossed around.

“Are you sure we can trust this information?” Barrett asks.

“Why else would he give us the name?” Jericho barks.

Barrett’s gaze slips to mine. There’s hesitation there even as he expertly guides us toward the destination. “What if she’s not there? Would it not be better for us to have a plan of action?”

“Just fucking drive,” Jericho snaps.

Feeling the same anxiety as demonstrated in Barrett’s eyes, I clear my throat. “Are you sure th—”

Jericho’s gaze snaps to mine, sharp and cold.“Aaron Keating,” he says. “I’m sure.”

Barrett’s eyes meet mine in the rear-vision mirror and he shakes his head slightly, warning me not to press the issue. Jericho’s attention is glued to the road. Reaching across I cover his clenched fist with my hand, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. His entire body is alert and taut, ready to leap from the vehicle the moment it stops.

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