Page 120 of The Complete Truth Duet
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked the night as I silently folded out of my car. I tucked my gun into the back of my jeans and skulked into the shadows.
Just when I was convinced Thomas was only out for some late-night cardio, the three men turned toward a quaint little brick house complete with a farmhouse mailbox. The street was dead that time of night, only a few porch lights exposing the homes.
But the front door he was heading toward had glowing windows wrapping all the way around. I inched closer, sinking deep into the wooded tree line that divided the homes.
And that’s when everything stopped.
My heart.
The Earth.
Time.
My truck was sitting in the driveway.
My truck that I’d sold to Drew for a dollar.
My truck that I’d left Cora over a million dollars inside.
My fucking truck that Drew was no doubt driving that night.
And he was with Cora.
Panic iced my veins, stealing the air from my lungs. But one beat later, the rolling fire of adrenaline set me ablaze.
“Oh, shit,” I breathed as Thomas walked straight to the front door, the two men splitting off in opposite directions, heading around to the back. I frantically weighed my options: I could go after Thomas or follow the two men who were entirely too reminiscent of the ones Thomas had sent to kill Lisa.
And then, somehow, everything got worse.
The front door yanked open and Thomas whipped a gun out of his pocket. I was barely able to make out the “Where the fuck is my wife?” before the gunshot exploded into the silent night.
I didn’t think.
I didn’t plan.
I didn’t even consciously decide to move.
I just took off at a dead sprint, her blue eyes fueling my every step.
It took me a thousand years to reach that house. I darted up the driveway and then through the open door. As soon as my feet hit that fucking carpet, I scanned the room, searching for the only thing that could ever slow my racing heart.
She wasn’t there. At least not that I could see.
Drew was sitting on Thomas’s chest, his fist flying at his face. He paused long enough to turn his rabid gaze on mine, the flicker of recognition hitting him just before he continued his assault. “They’re in the bedroom,” he barked. “Go. Now.”
My vision flashed red and my body graced me with yet another surge of power when the sound of a woman’s gurgled scream echoed through the room.
“Cora!” I roared, following the commotion into the hall.
My lungs seized as I found one of Thomas’s men straddling a woman. She kicked and flailed beneath him as he squeezed at her throat.
It wasn’t Cora, but that only meant I still had no idea where she was.
Diving forward, I bulldozed him off her. The guy wasn’t small by any standards, but he was clumsy and clearly not driven by raw emotion the way I was. We rolled together, banging against the walls until we reached one of the open bedrooms. We exchanged punches—however, with an endless source of rage feeding my fight, he soon fell limp.
I rose off his unconscious body and turned my prowl onto the woman who I recognized from pictures to be Catalina. Her brown eyes and smooth olive skin matched her brothers’.
“Where is she?” I rumbled, wiping the blood off my bottom lip with the back of my hand.
With tears streaming down her face, she lifted her hands in surrender. “W…wait,” she stammered, backing into the corner.
“Cora. Tell me where she is,” I demanded.
Coughing between words, she managed to choke out, “There’s…nobody else…here. I swear. Nobody.” Her whole body trembled as I advanced on her. “No, please.”
I leaned into her face and in a violent whisper said, “I’m not here to hurt you, Catalina. I need to find Cora, and then I’m going to get you all out of here.”
She blinked at me, her chin quivering as she asked, “Who are you?”
I didn’t get the chance to answer before the sweetest sound that had ever hit my ears came from behind me.
My heart started.
The Earth spun.
And forever began.
One in. One out.
“Penn?”
Cora
The day Nic died, I remembered not being able to comprehend anything. As I’d sat on the sidewalk, watching them load his body into an ambulance, the cops had spoken to me. Their mouths moved. Sounds found my eardrums. But nothing made it to my brain. Every now and then, I found words coming out of my mouth to answer a question, but it was more like an involuntary reflex than a conscious thought.
My feet moved when I was told.
My head turned when someone was speaking to me.
I was able to prattle off Manuel’s phone number to a cop when they asked if there was anyone they should call about Nic.
It was like I had been on autopilot.
