Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
A few hours later, after I hadn’t been able to settle enough to do anything but pace and fill Bucky’s food bowls, I heard my phone ring and dove for it.
“Jim?”
“We got a ping on the cell phone number. He’s made a few calls out of the Smokey Inn heading west out of town, on the way to Nashville.”
“Okay. I’m heading out there right now. Wanna meet me there with your guys?”
“Yep. On it. I’m sharing my location with you now. But Dillon, don’t even think about going in on your own.”
I grunted a noise in response, both of us knowing there was no way in hell I’d actually agree to that.
I turned to Hank, who was sitting at the island where he’d been for hours and looking at me with concern.
“You don’t have to come, you know. Just give me a ride back to my truck before you go?”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m coming with you. I’m in this just as much as you are.”
I felt the gratitude rush through me, coupled with shame, as we walked out to his own truck. I put in the information for the inn, and we headed out toward it.
Initially, we sat in silence, because I didn’t know how to say everything I was feeling for him. But, then again, if being with Macy had taught me anything, it had been not to overthink what I needed to say, just in case.
“Listen,” I said, turning to him, “I know I haven’t been that good a friend since I came back from Nashville. I know I’ve been distant, even though you and Nadine haven’t been anything but good to me, and I’m sorry for that. But after Neil—”
“You don’t have to apologize, Dillon,” Hank said, keeping his eye on the road as he headed down the hill. “Nadine and I knew that something had happened, but we just didn’t know what it was. All we ever wanted you to know was that you had us if you needed us.”
“That’s the problem,” I said, my throat closing up. “Just when I allowed myself one more person, she got swiped from me. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Find her,” he said. “Find her and tell her everything that you’ve been holding back.”
The words sunk like a stone into my belly as I thought of everything I’d been holding back from her. We passed the rest of the drive in silence, and when we got to the inn, I was relieved to see that Jim and his guys were already there, ready and waiting for us. I nodded at them as I went into the lobby and rented a room for us to use during the day.
Once Hank, Jim, and Jim’s guys were all gathered in our hotel room, I turned to look at each of them in turn.
“Okay, guys. What’s the plan?”
26
MACY
I didn’t know whether to be entertained or not that he’d actually expected me to sleep when he’d untied me from the chair and moved the ropes from the bed before lying down next to me. After that, he’d even wrapped his arms around my waist, acting for all the world like we were some happy couple and completely ignoring the fact that my wrists were tied to the bed. The bruises, which were rising on my face, were pressing against my arm, both of which were tied up so high that my shoulders were almost pulled out of their sockets. But the physical pain was nothing compared to what was going on inside of my head.
With every exhale he made against my neck, the more nauseous I felt. He definitely hadn’t taken care of himself since I’d left him. That was proven in the fact that his hair, which he’d been notoriously vain about when we’d been together, was long and lank, and I had a feeling that his teeth hadn’t been brushed when he’d come to bed.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Dillon and the way I’d woken up in his arms yesterday morning. I couldn’t stop thinking about how angry Dillon was with me when I got back to the cabin the night before last and how I’d refused to listen to him about the rules he’d put into place for my safety.
I wanted to be back with him. I wanted to be back in his arms, in his bed.
In the fog of the last day, I’d never even considered the option that Dillon wasn’t alive, but at one point while Alex had been hitting me, he’d cracked some comment about how one of his bullets had caught my “dumbass, meathead boyfriend,” and I’d had to choke out tears. The idea that Dillon had somehow died as a result of what Alex had done hadn’t even entered my head as a possibility, in the same way that me not getting out of here hadn’t, but then I remembered the way that one of those bullets had sped by his head. I vaguely remembered his truck coming after us, but I might’ve been hallucinating.