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The drive back across town passed in a blur of panic. I pushed the speed limit, barely caring now if I got stopped. If I did, I’d send the police to my destination. Jolie’s life was in danger, and I no longer cared about the repercussions of anything that had happened, as long as she was safe.
Fury toward these sick sons of bitches who’d helped Dorman burned like a wildfire inside me. I was furious with myself, too, for ever allowing it to come to this. I was far from innocent, and I knew it. I hated myself for ever coming into Jolie’s life.
Though I told myself all of this, I couldn’t stop my heart from aching at the thought of never having her in my life. All I’d ever focused on was killing Patrick Dorman—I hadn’t ever cared about what would happen after—but Jolie had changed things for me. I wanted more now. I wanted more of her—the taste of her skin, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her arms wrapped around me. I’d made so many mistakes, and I refused to make any more.
If she got out of this alive, I’d make sure I always put her first. It didn’t matter what I thought or how I was feeling, just as long as Jolie was all right.
I approached the neighborhood of the address I’d been given for the leader of Dorman’s little fan club, Marty Penn. It was getting dark now—something I was pleased about. It would be easier to sneak around in the dark than it would be in broad daylight.
Not wanting them to know I was coming, I stopped the car a couple of blocks away and continued on foot. The weight of the gun at my hip gave me some comfort. If my informant was right, there may be up to four men I had to deal with, and I’d need my actions to be direct and precise. I imagined there was a good chance they’d also be armed, and if that was the case, this could end in a shootout. I moved at a jog, keeping my hand on the butt of my gun. I wasn’t going to hesitate to shoot any one of those bastards. I wasn’t a killer, and I’d never taken a life before, but I knew I had it in me to do it. My whole life had been building up to killing Patrick Dorman, and if I had to take a couple of his buddies down with me while I was there, then so be it. I figured I’d only be taking scum off the streets.
I ran down the sidewalk, heading toward the block where the property was located. Ahead, blue lights were flashing in the darkening sky, and I slowed to a walk.
What was going on?
I turned onto the road, and my stomach dropped.
Five police cars were parked in a semi-circle around the front of the property. Behind each vehicle, an armed officer in protective gear crouched, their guns pointed toward the house. The front door was wide open, as though it had been kicked in, and so I assumed more police were already inside the house.
The cops had made it there before me.
Shit.
Their presence stirred mixed emotions inside me. If they were inside the house, they must have found Jolie. I prayed she was safe, and we weren’t too late. But it also meant they’d take Dorman back into custody, so I was unable to take the revenge I’d been working toward all this time.
It didn’t matter, I decided. As long as Jolie was safe and unharmed, I didn’t give a shit about the rest of it.
Other civilians had noticed the disturbance and trickled out of their homes to see what was happening. I took advantage of their presence, melting in with them so I didn’t stand out. My heart was in my throat, my body bound in a vise-like band of tension. I strained my ears, alert for any gunshots signaling they might have found Patrick Dorman, and Jolie, too, but none came. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. Had Dorman given himself up willingly and they’d not needed to shoot? I prayed they’d see Jolie as a victim in all of this, and not a conspirator.
I had to hold myself back from pushing past everyone and racing into the house as well, but I knew doing so would only get me shot. Even so, it took every ounce of self control I had to restrain myself. It wouldn’t do Jolie any good seeing me shot down right in front of her.
Shouts came from inside the building, and I strained to see more. Had they found her? I held my breath in anticipation. If they’d arrested her, I’d come forward right away and tell the true story of what had happened. There was no way I’d allow her to go down for my mistakes.
But a police officer in riot gear exited the front of the building, and he didn’t look as though he had Jolie or her father with him, or anyone else, for that matter. He lifted a hand and waved down the waiting officers outside, the ones who had been crouching down beside their vehicles, using the open car doors as cover should any shooting start.
Though I couldn’t hear what was being said, I could tell from the body language of the other officers, people standing up and turning to each other, talking, that nothing had been found.
My stomach flipped. He wasn’t there, which meant Jolie wasn’t either.
They’d gone to the wrong address.
Not wasting another moment, I turned and ran back to the car. With my phone in one hand, I pulled up the other addresses I’d been given. They were all homes within the city. Considering who had escaped, wouldn’t the police have covered all these bases?
I had one piece of information the police didn’t—that Patrick Dorman had Jolie. He must have taken her somewhere, but if the houses were being watched by the cops, then they wouldn’t have gone to any of them. He was smarter than that. There was the chance he’d managed to get her out of the city, but I wasn’t sure he’d take the chance. He had his daughter back for the first time in ten years, and he wouldn’t risk the cops stopping him.
I swiped the screen and called the number for my informant.
“You said Marty Penn, the one who’d been playing pen-pal with Dorman, has a business,” I said before he could speak. “I need the address, right now.”
“What do you know, Vale?” he asked, sensing I was onto something.
“Just get it to me.”
I hung up, and a moment later my phone pinged with a message. It was the location of the butcher shop. It wasn’t an upscale establishment, but was instead the place where the carcasses of the pigs were brought to be carved up into manageable chunks before being distributed to various stores. I hated to think of Jolie in such a place, but if her father and his new friends were planning to kill her, that would definitely be a place where a few extra screams wouldn’t go noticed, and it would be easy to get rid of the body.
My blood grew cold at the thought. I tortured myself with the image of Jolie, terrified and hurt. Would the men rape her before they killed her? The thought of their filthy hands all over her perfect skin, of them pinning her down and forcing themselves inside her, while she screamed for help, and her father stood over them all, watching, made me want to tear the entire world apart in my fury.
It was getting late, and I guessed the workers at the butcher shop would have gone home for the day already. The property was on the outskirts of the city, a thirty-minute drive from my current location. Even thirty minutes felt like too long. I’d already wasted time by going to the house, and now I was kicking myself for not having already predicted that taking Jolie to one of their homes would have been too risky.
I’d already wasted too much time.
I just prayed I wouldn’t be too late.