Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Seen him around?” Rook asked.
“No. Sent it to everyone. Maybe they saw him, though.”
“On it. I’ll keep digging. Let you know if I—”
“Hey!” Detroit yelled before Rook could sign off, making me turn to see him running up. “This ain’t what he looks like.”
“No, that’s him,” Rook said in my ear.
“No. Well, maybe once. But you gotta shave off seventy pounds or so. Pack on muscle. This fuck has been hitting the gym.”
“The gym? Our gym?” I asked, heart thundering.
He was right there, under our noses, all this time.
“Yeah. Seen him a lot in the late mornings. Just for a few weeks. Figured maybe he was a new prison guard.”
“Did you talk to him? Ask where he lived?” I asked.
“Nah, man. I’m there just to work out. You know that. But… wait… I did overhear him talking to the maintenance guy.”
“About what?”
“He was watching the guy screw a new sign up. He commented on the drill the guy was using, saying he recently got one just like it. Because he’s been doing a lot of renovation—”
I didn’t even let him finish.
I turned and ran like the fucking wind.
Because, of course.
Of-fucking-course.
If he was that obsessed with Este, enough to leave his whole life behind, to be following her a decade later, he would want to stay as close as possible to her.
While he worked on whatever sick fucking project he had in mind.
He was the neighbor who was driving her crazy day and night, never letting her rest.
Maybe it was to fuck with her.
But maybe it was because he was creating some sort of house of horrors for her.
It sounded crazy. But I’d caught more than a few true crime podcasts where women were kept in elaborate prisons by their captors. For weeks, months, years.
I saw one case where it was a barn. Another, a shed. But most commonly.
Basements.
Like the one the duplex had.
But Este had no access to.
But her neighbor did.
Had he been there all along, right under her feet, building a prison to trap her in?
Crazier things had happened.
My lungs burned as I turned down Este’s street, my heart hammering in my chest.
But the closer I got, the more I let the anger loose, little by little, until it was a burning inferno that took over me completely.
I wasn’t even fully aware of how the front door opened.
Did I kick it in?
Rip it off its hinges?
Simply reach for the doorknob?
I had no idea.
All I did know was I was barely five feet inside before I was greeted by the man from the picture. Just, as Detroit said, leaner, fitter.
“She’s mine!” he snarled as he ran right at me.
“If she’s yours,” I said, landing a fist to his jaw, “then why was I inside her a day ago?”
George roared, hands going for my throat, looking insane enough to actually try to choke me to death.
“Why was it my name she was crying out as she came?”
Using the guy’s own momentum against him, I slammed him back against the wall, landing blow after blow to his body.
It wasn’t hard to find fuel for the flames licking at my mind.
Trix lay on the floor.
Este leaned over her beloved dog.
Hands on her, grabbing her, dragging her, maybe drugging her to make her more compliant. Then leading her down to the basement, chaining her up, putting his hands on her.
A roar erupted through me as my fists slammed into the bastard’s face over and over.
As I reared back once again, he dropped to the floor, dead weight.
It was then I heard Slash behind me, telling me to stop, to get ahold of myself, to focus on Este, that there was time for this bastard later.
Este.
Her name was water on the flames of my rage, making me tear through the house, looking for the steps.
It took me two tours to realize that the weird, horizontal door on the ground wasn’t just a quirky feature; it was hiding a staircase leading down.
Yanking it up, I secured it to the wall, then ran down the narrow steps. “Este!”
I almost couldn’t fucking believe my eyes.
If I hadn’t already pieced together what was going on, I probably would have thought I was hallucinating.
But the bastard had created a whole mini house in the basement: a kitchen, dining, bed, and bathroom space. All of the walls and ceiling were covered in soundproofing tiles.
Had Este screamed?
For me?
Had she been crying out while I’d been in her house, right above her, completely fucking unaware?
“Saul?” Este cried out, making me zero in on where she was over in the wall-less bathroom area.
Her entire body was shaking.
Her eyes were huge and round.
A nasty bruise was forming across her cheek and up her temple.
“Saul?” she cried again, looking seconds away from collapse, swaying back and forth on her feet.
I closed the distance in a few strides, my arm going around her, tightening to try to brace her.