Page 59 of First Time

“Fuck.” I parked in the driveway and yanked off my tie. “She isn’t here.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Chantelle hissed. “I swear on all things holy I don’t even believe in that if that fucker somehow got his claws into her again, I’ll skin him alive!”

“I’m going to get in touch with her boss,” I said, shifting my SUV back into reverse. “I’ll let you know once I learn what the fuck is going on.”

I put through a call to the coffee shop to learn the owner had left for the day. Begging and explaining the situation earned me his cell number. I tore back toward the highway the second her boss told me what had happened.

Stephen had shown up, and Becky had gone outside to speak with him over her break. She never returned. Her car remained parked behind their building. Her boss didn’t know about me or Chantelle. He’d contacted the police, but until she’d been missing for twenty-four hours, they wouldn’t do more than a drive-by of Becky and Stephen’s house. The police had reported back to her boss that the house appeared empty with no cars in the driveway.

Dread curled in my stomach, and I raced up the highway, granny drivers and assholes unaware of the insults and curses I spewed their way. I barked out to Siri to text Chantelle letting her know I was headed to Stephen’s house.

She called and said she would meet me there, but I told her to stay at the club in case Becky came looking for her.

The rage I kept on a tight leash simmered beneath the surface of my skin, making me hot. Sweaty. I cracked the windows while barreling down the exit, the cool evening air refreshing and invigorating. My muscles all lay in wait, tense and ready on a short fuse.

I slowed to a crawl at the end of Stephen’s street. No lights shone from the interior that I could see, but with some of the windows boarded up, that didn’t mean shit.

No car sat in the driveway or in front of the house, exactly as the police had claimed.

I stopped alongside the neighbor’s and killed the engine, gaze glued to the ramshackle pile of shit Becky had been living in, a million plans racing through my head. Call the police again—and tell them what? Domestic violence had perhaps taken place, but there was no evidence from the dark, still house. Should I sneak in and possibly get shot or arrested for breaking and entering?

Concern for Becky decided for me.

“Fuck it.” I grabbed my five-inch blade out of the glove compartment and shoved it into my pocket.

I stalked up to the front door without a coat, my breath in puffs of white leading the way. I banged on the old wooden door, shaking it on its hinges. I counted to ten.

No one answered.

I thumped again, my gut telling me I needed to get inside. A quick study of both windows didn’t reveal a damned thing except darkness coating the room beyond. I strode around the north side of the house through overgrown dead weeds from the summer before, kicking down the rickety gate to a half-toppled fence leading into the tiny backyard.

The back stoop was worse off than the front, with more broken pieces of cement than not. With a lack of street light, darkness hovered like a black cloak. I tried the door handle and found it locked.

“Fuck this.” I fished out my knife and kicked at the door, uncaring of the dress shoes I wore. The door cracked by the lock, and I kicked again.

It swung open.

“Becky!” I hollered, entering into the dark kitchen.

A muffled yell came from my left.

Without giving heed to danger, I sprinted a few steps and threw the door open. Stairs led downward into the basement. “Becky!” I raced down, stumbling to a stop as I took in the dungeon-like room. A dozen or so candles burned around the musty space, but all I saw was Becky.

Ball-gagged and tied spread eagle to a cross, cane welts and open wounds covering her chest, stomach, and thighs.

White-hot anger lit inside my guts, but I swallowed it, needing to keep my cool. A quick sweep of the room let me know Stephen wasn’t with us.

I hurried to Becky’s side. “Shh...” I murmured as she stared up at me with wide, terror-filled eyes, tears dripping from her chin. Her nose ran, mixing with the saliva oozing from around the black ball Stephen had shoved into her mouth. Breath panting through her widened nostrils, she moaned.

“Shh...” I whispered, pulling off the gag from around her head.

She sobbed, and the sound tore at my heart.

“I’m getting you out of here,” I said, using my knife to cut the cruel synthetic ropes from her ankles.

She shivered and continued to cry, more like a mewing whine, and fell into me the second I freed her wrists. Goose bumps covered her cool skin, and I became aware of the freezing temperature of the room as I wrapped my arms around her, keeping her upright.

“Christ.”

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