Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“Where were we?” Clayton looks at me in a way that has my skin crawling. I stay quiet even though words are threatening to spew out on exactly what I think about Clayton Smith.
TWENTY-ONE
FLETCH
“Officer Leonard to dispatch, come in,” I hear Marsha come over the radio. I’m on high fucking alert. The team and I walk out of the house Clayton Smith is staying at, coming up empty-handed without the suspect. Fuck that. He’s not a suspect. We’ve got him lock, stock, and barrel. Now we just have to get our hands on him. The good news is we’ve got even more evidence. The bad news is he’s been solely focused on Maeve Oliver. Once we gathered what we needed, document after document, photo after photo.
“This is Leonard, go for dispatch.”
“We’ve got a silent alarm going off at 511 Arrowleaf Way.” Leonard looks at me the moment the address is announced, and we're both heading to our squad cars. The address Marsha stated is Whisked Away. This is going from bad to worse, and I know one thing for damn sure: this has Clayton Smith written all over it.
“Goddamn it,” I growl once I’m in my car, gear in Drive and my foot smashed on the gas. I’m going to have to somehow deliver the news to JW, then Lawson. Jesus fucking Christ, what a clusterfuck.
TWENTY-TWO
JW
My eyes stay on Maeve’s form since I’ve been cuffed with my hands behind my back, and now he’s got another pair looped through them to the metal pole in the back area. Smith has no idea he managed to move us through the bakery until he had all three of us behind the cash register so Maeve could hit the panic button when his focus was on me. Thankfully the silent one or this place would have alarm bells blaring.
I whip my head around when I hear the light footsteps of someone who isn’t Clayton Smith. Fletch comes in with his gun drawn and looks my way. I shake my head. He understands what I’m saying—take care of Maeve. If he uncuffs me, it will only delay her being rescued from that cocksucking motherfucker. As soon as he had me where he wanted me, the knife returned right back to Mae. He kept going on and on about needing money to get away.
He's talking right now while Maeve is staying stone-cold still where she is. “The last bitch didn’t have any money. You, though, you have more than most but are such a tight wad. I’d have never fucked you, too fat for me. The minute the ink was dry on our marriage certificate, I’d have drained you dry. But you left before my plan could come to fruition. And when I tried to drain your business dry, nothing fucking happened.” Smith is moving back and forth, holding Maeve. It’s a manic motion, making me hyper-focused on what he’ll do next. This is a ballsy move Fletch is doing, one that can backfire on all of us. If Clayton gets ahold of him, we’re all fucked. I get it, though; it’s either this or shooting Smith and potentially hurting Maeve. The last thing she needs is more trauma from this raging fucking lunatic.
When Fletch moves behind Clayton, I try not to give his position away. A subtle nod to Maeve lets her relax a little. Maybe she could hear the same thing I did, or maybe she’s going to try and do something to get herself out of the situation. Whatever she’s thinking, I hope she holds the fuck on.
“Did you hear that?” Clayton moves from one side to the other, yanking on Mae some more. Jesus fucking Christ, Fletch Wild, take this fucker down already.
“Nnn…no.” Maeve’s bravery is waning as the adrenaline pumping through her slowly leaves her. Damn, I hope she can keep herself upright for a few more minutes.
I watch as Fletch’s hand comes up, gun in hand, and he smashes the butt of the handgun into Clayton’s head. Before he even knows what’s going on, it’s lights out. Unfortunately, he takes Maeve down with him with the knife still to her neck, and that’s when I go ballistic.
“Maeve! Mae! Maeve!” Fletch is busy moving Clayton away, grabbing a pair of cuffs himself when Officer Leonard rushes in with his gun drawn.
“Uncuff JW. I’m calling for an ambulance,” Fletch says to Leonard. I’ve been pulling at my wrists, trying to dislodge the metal pole to no fucking avail. I’m sure the skin is chaffed, but right now, I don’t feel a damn thing. My sole purpose in life is lying on the ground, blood trailing down her neck and onto her shirt.
“No, go to Maeve. Help her first. Go, goddamn it!” Leonard starts to come my way but thinks better of it. Officer of the law or not, I’ll wreck his world if he doesn’t help her over me. I’m handcuffed, not passed out on the floor bleeding and who knows what else. I saw the way her head bounced off the concrete floor. I’ve been around bull riders, team ropers, bucking broncs, you fucking name it. Hell, branding a calf has had a momma cow going after us. Lawson had a gash not long ago from a bull on Amos and Sienna’s farm. Anything can happen and I’ve seen it, but it's so very different when it comes to watching someone you know is your fucking heart. I stay still, no longer trying to rip myself free.