Page 69 of The Complete Truth Duet
“Wow. He sounds like a real dreamboat,” she deadpanned.
I laughed. “I promise he really is. And good to me. So freaking good.”
“All right. All right. I’ll give Voldemort the benefit of the doubt. But keep your secrets close, Cora. Do not trust this man. Do not give him ammunition to take back to my family.”
I huffed. “I know. I know.”
“I just worry.”
I grabbed the baggy of insulation off the floor and carried it to the closet, where I shook it out on top of the safe. A rolled-up wad of five thousand dollars fell out.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got this covered.” I peeled off half, and then locked the rest of it in the safe. I liked to keep a little cash in there in case of an emergency. Say…Marcos or Dante showed up and accused me of stealing money. Twenty-five hundred dollars and a beating would be enough to feed their salacious appetite for justice, leaving my secret stash above their heads and five years’ worth of work intact.
“Are you going to drop it off tonight?” she asked uncomfortably. “No rush or anything. I thought you mentioned that or something.”
“Relax. I’ve got the cash and I’m headed to my car now. It’s over an hour drive, but I’ll be there soon.”
“I love you, Cora.”
“Love you too. Take care of yourself and tell Isabel to get better.”
Her voice smiled. “Will do.”
We hung up at the same time.
Penn still wasn’t back, and much to my dismay, my bed and him kissing me into better than good not-okay was going to have to wait.
After opening my texts, I shot off a message to River and Savannah that I was leaving to run an errand. When the text bubble didn’t pop back up from either of them, I thanked the god of tears for making people sleepy afterward.
After one last message to Penn, I purposely left my phone on the counter and headed out.
Me: Hey, I had to run out for a few. Keep an eye out for Savannah and River. They’re already asleep. I’ll hit you up when I get back. Xoxo
Penn
Ten minutes before I lost her…
“Calm down, Mr. Pennington,” the 911 operator urged into the receiver of my landline.
There was no calm left in the world. Not as they stood over her, their filthy hands in her hair, holding her to the bed, blood profusely seeping from stab wounds on her chest and stomach.
Her pink shirt was red.
I couldn’t focus.
I couldn’t breathe.
Everything was in fast forward and slow motion.
The knife in the air came too fast.
Her attempts to fight back were too slow.
I knew I was yelling. I was vaguely aware of the gravel shredding my throat, but what I was saying never passed through my brain.
Visceral rage rushed out of me like a dam had been broken in my soul. But, with nowhere for that violence to manifest, it was worthless.
I was worthless.
My wife was dying.
And I was absolutely worthless.
“Mr. Pennington, take a look around. I have police officers on standby. We just need to figure out where she is.”
“She’s in a hotel!”
“Where? Do you know the name of the hotel?”
I paused as an onslaught of every emotion I’d ever experienced peeled the skin from my body. “I…I don’t know. Somewhere in Chicago.”
Another stab.
Another cry.
Another plea.
“Get the fuck off her!” I roared so loudly that my body vibrated.
It was all I could do.
Her screams echoed in my ears even as they held a hand over her mouth. Her legs kicked wildly, her hands clawing at the men attacking her.
Acid forged valleys in my veins.
“Look around the room,” the operator urged.
The adrenaline fueling me like gas to a fire made searching the room while they tortured her impossible. But if it could help her…
“Oh fuck,” I groaned, forcing my mind to cooperate. Frantic, I scanned the room. “There’s a blue bedspread. And…and…fuck!”
His fist landed across her face, blood spraying on the wall. I felt it in my gut.
Pain exploded inside me.
The only things stronger were the guilt and desperation clouding my vision.
I’d never felt more helpless in my entire life. It was killing me.
And, worse, it was killing her.
“Take a deep breath, and try to focus, Mr. Pennington,” the woman ordered, drawing my attention to the task at hand.
“Okay. Okay. Shit. There’s, uh, a desk, a fucking TV.”
“What else? See if you can see a phone or notepad. Anything that might have the name of the hotel on it.”
I thrust a hand into the top of my hair and brought my cell closer to my face for inspection. “No. Nothing. It’s a fucking cheap-ass hotel room. It looks like every other budget hotel in the world.”
Another punch.
Another stab.
Another cry.
I broke.
Falling to my knees, I threw myself at the mercy of any god who was willing to listen. “Please. Please, I’m begging you. Please, God. Help me find her.” My voice shattered along with my heart. “Help me find her. Please. Please help me.”
