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Brynn’s stomach twisted into a pretzel for her own fate, but a little flame of hope flickered for her sister. She nodded. “It’s in the back of my closet in a box. But you’re going to need my alarm code to get in the house.”

Kelsey’s face was filled with question marks, but Brynn mustered up her therapist mask to hide her emotions. Roslyn evaluated her with shrewd eyes, no doubt searching for any chink in Brynn’s facade. After a few agonizing moments, the woman gave a curt nod and released her grip on her sister.

“I hope for both your sakes, you’re not lying to me. If I discover this is a wild-goose chase, your sister will pay the price. I have a hefty overdose of heroin with her name on it. They say relapse is a bitch—can kill you by accident so easily.”

No. Please, God. Let the alarm code work in time. If the plan failed, they were both dead.

Roslyn pointed a finger at Brynn, but looked at Davis. “Keep her restrained until I call you.”

Davis’s thin lips spread into a smile as he idly toyed with the whip, winding it around his fingers. “Gladly.”

TWENTY-TWO

now

Reid leaned his head against the headrest and groaned. “Where the hell did he go?”

Jace sighed and pulled over onto the dirt shoulder, a cloud of dust engulfing the car. “We should’ve met up with him by now. This is where we saw him the first time, and I know he never passed us.”

“He must’ve turned off somewhere.”

Jace crooked his thumb. “There’s a small lake area a couple of miles up the road. I think there are a few vacation homes and rentals out there. That’s the only way he could’ve gone. There’s really nothing else on this stretch of road except cow pastures.”

The crush of pressure around Reid’s chest tightened. Brynn. Isolated with that whack job. “Do you remember where he wanted the stuff he ordered from you delivered?”

“No, my assistant handled that part. But I’d bet my left nut that he didn’t get any of it sent to that fancy house in Highland Park where he lives with his wife. He wouldn’t have had to use a fake name if he’d done that.”

“Let’s check it out, then.”

Jace swung the car back onto the highway and a few minutes later, turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road. They followed the winding gravel path, squinting through the darkness at the well-kept houses tucked behind the foliage. As they passed the homes, the car’s headlights illuminated each labeled mailbox. The fifth box they passed had Kennedy spelled out in gold letters.

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” Jace said, his tone grim. “That’s the name he uses to make his orders.”

The world seemed to stop spinning as Reid stared at the mailbox. “Like the president.”

“Yeah, arrogant fucker, isn’t he?” Jace pulled around the next bend in the road and parked out of view.

Reid barely heard him over the pounding of his heart. He wet his lips. “Jace, do you still keep a gun in the car?”

Jace shook his head. “Oh, hell no. You’re not going in there with a weapon. You’ll end up spending the rest of your life in an orange jumpsuit.”

Reid pinned him with a stare. “The new evidence I found on Brynn’s mother’s case points to someone with the last name Kennedy as the murderer.”

His eyes widened. “Fuck.”

“We might have more than a rapist out for a repeat performance. Brynn’s sister was the one who originally had the new evidence.”

Jace looked toward the house, creases of concern framing his mouth. “You think he’s got both of the girls?”

“I’m about to find out,” Reid said, his voice resolute, but his insides twisting with worry. Davis had a jump of time on them. What if he’d done something to Brynn or Kelsey already? No. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He would not be too late for Brynn this time. If this bastard had her, Reid would do whatever it took to get to her and protect her. “Give me your gun. I won’t use it unless I need to.”

With a deep frown, Jace leaned over, popped open the glove compartment, and handed him the Smith & Wesson.

Reid checked the safety, then tucked it in the back of his waistband, hiding it beneath his loose T-shirt. “Call the police. I’m going in.”

“Let me come in with you. Keep the numbers on our side. Or, why don’t we wait for the cops?”

“No, I don’t want to waste any more time—every minute could count. And I need you to stay out here to make sure at least one of us can help if something goes wrong.”


Tags: Roni Loren Loving on the Edge Erotic