Page 79 of Deserving Cora
It didn’t matter. He was so tired, he could sleep anywhere.
He’d just close his eyes for a moment, then he’d get up and do whatever it was he was supposed to do. And he definitely needed to dosomething…but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what. He was simply too tired. And dizzy.
The room was deathly silent as Pipe slipped into unconsciousness, a boneless Cora in his arms.
* * *
Stone tried not to panic. He kept hoping that any second now, Owl, Pipe, and Cora would reappear. But the more time that passed, the more he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Something had gone wrong inside that house, and he had no doubt that his friends were in trouble. He should call 9-1-1…but what would he tell them?
He could do what they’d planned to threaten Michaels with, ask for a welfare check.
But something told Stone he didn’t have time for that. Michaels had every right to deny the cops entrance, and it would take way too long for them to get a search warrant. No, he had to do somethingnow.
Stone’s hands started shaking and he couldn’t help but think of a different situation where he’d felt just as helpless. When he and Owl had been prisoners.
Once upon a time, he’d been a cocky son-of-a-bitch who didn’t think anyone could ever get the drop on him. Then he’d found himself being held hostage. Tortured. That experience had changed him. Made him doubt his abilities.
It took a moment for his head to clear, to shake the memories of the pain and absolute terror he’d felt as a POW.
Stone straightened in his seat. He had to do more than simply sit on his ass. Pipe, Owl, Cora, and even Lara, if she was still alive, needed him to figure this out. To dosomething.
He realized he was holding his phone so tightly, his fingers were tingling. An idea came to him. Stone had no idea who the unknown person was who kept saving the day, but maybe, just maybe, they would have some sort of idea on how to reach his friends. His fingers flew over the keyboard.
Stone: I can’t get a hold of Pipe or Owl. They’re inside the house already and my texts and calls aren’t going through.
Unknown: Shit. Okay, give me a second.
Stone didn’t know what the person needed time for, but he felt better already for having shared what was happening.
After what seemed like forever, but in reality was only a minute or two, his phone vibrated again.
Unknown:Bastard has a signal jammer, but I’ve disabled it. Try to get a hold of them again. Now.
Stone had no clue how the hell the person knew about the signal jammer from wherever they might be, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was also a little annoyed by the bossiness of the unknown stranger, but since he was helping, Stone couldn’t complain.
Stone: Owl, get the fuck out! Now!
He waited a moment, but Owl didn’t respond. Neither did Pipe when he texted him. He replied to Unknown.
Stone: They aren’t answering. What’s the FBI’s ETA?
Unknown: Keep trying. You have to get them out of there. I don’t know when the FBI will arrive and Carter Grant is not someone you want near any female, under any circumstances.
Stone gritted his teeth, unsure how he could get them out. He had zero intel. Didn’t know if the arrival of Owl and Pipe had put the entire household on high alert. For all he knew, there were a dozen people just waiting to take him out the second he tried to break in. If anything happened to him, it could mean the end of any hope for his friends.
He continued to try to get a hold of either Pipe or Owl. He called, he texted. He tried Cora. All with no luck.
But his calls weren’t going straight to voicemail anymore, and the texts seemed to be going through. That was both encouraging and terrifying. The latter because despite going through—his friends still weren’t answering.
He chose to focus on the little glimmer of hope, which gave him the motivation he needed to keep trying.
Pipe and Owl were smart, they’d figure out a way to outmaneuver Michaels. And when they did, Stone would be waiting to get them the fuck out of there.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Cora felt like complete shit.
She hadn’t felt like this since one night in her early twenties when she’d gone to a bar, feeling sorry for herself, and drank way too much. She had no recollection of how she’d gotten home, but when she’d woken the next morning, she’d had a hangover from hell. It had taken her almost two days to recover from her night of binge drinking, and she’d sworn she’d never do that again.
