Page 90 of Holding On

That part of my brain wants to detain and eliminate the threat permanently.

Thor hands out earpieces that will keep us all in constant communication. The brand on the case he snaps shut—LC & Associates—is yet another example of how even though Liam isn’t here, he’s still showing up for us. I reluctantly give Allie my phone that’s still connected to Tinsley’s. I can’t listen to the call and do my part to rescue my girl, but none of this is easy. Tinsley’s cousin gives me a quick hug—which makes Thor growl at me and then immediately apologize—but it provides the shift we need.

It’s go time.

Wells and I walk out of his loft and in an uncharacteristic sign of physical affection, I grab my friend and pull him into a quick hug before he gets on the elevator. “We’ll get her back and end this, brother. Trust the plan.”

He shakes his head slightly. “I know. I just … fuck, Jack. My entire fucking family.” When he initially heard the confessions, he looked white as a ghost, but his anger has brought his coloring back.

“We will bury him. He will never be a free man again, alright? He fucked with the wrong family.”

“Moron.” Wells huffs.

I step back and we bump fists. “Love you, man. Let’s go get our girl.”

“Love you too, brother.” Wells nods before he starts rolling out his shoulders as his face immediately shifts from tense and serious to the jovial mask that he uses to disarm people. Wells leans back against the wall, crosses one leg over the other, and looks as relaxed as possible. People always assume Wells is only fun and games, but he is literally the smartest guy I’ve ever met—and he uses that to his advantage when necessary.

But if someone knew Wells, really knew him, they would know that as good as he is as blending in or playing a part, his eyes never lie, and right now, his eyes are an inferno of rage. His casual stance and easy facial expression are enough to distract anyone from the truth of his feelings.

His physical body language is cool, calm, and collected, but his eyes are blazing with fury.

I start moving to the rooftop through the private residential stairs, keeping my feet as light as possible. Thankfully, my years in training with various martial arts have taught me how to be light on my feet—and fast.

My brother chirps in my ear, “We really will get her, Jack. I’m sorry I’m not there.” We still don’t know exactly where Liam is, but he did confirm he’s somewhere in the Central European Time zone currently, which narrows it down to approximately thirty-three countries, assuming he isn’t at sea somewhere within the time zone. I open the door to my rooftop oasis. It’s always been one of my favorite spots in the entire building, especially when it’s only friends and family that come up here, but I never thought I would be as grateful as I am for it today—and specifically for my steel spiral staircase off the pool area that connects the rooftop down to my terrace.

When I was building this space, I initially didn’t have the spiral staircase, but Savannah convinced me of it because she thought it was charming and added character to the space. There’s no way my sister could have ever imagined that choice would one day very likely save Tinsley’s life.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“I didn’t fully cut the brake line, just jacked it up enough, but the way Roman drove that car, he really crashed the shit out of it,” Kane adds to Rick’s horror story—still alarmingly calm to be chiming in on a conversation with the man that just shot him in the stomach. And I’m the dumb one in the room?

“I want my money, Tinsley. It’s the money you took from me, so don’t get it twisted; you set all of this in motion when you cut me out and took away what’s mine. And then you had to go and be Safety Sally with the seatbelt, so of course you didn’t die in the crash, yet again preventing me from getting my money.” In typical Rick fashion, he slams his fist against the counter hard enough that it makes me and Kane jump—and had Debbie Jo been conscious, I’m sure she would have as well. “You should have been roadkill and gone, but no, the beloved country star rises from the ashes. It’s too bad you won’t get to do that comeback tour, Tinsley. We would’ve made a damn mint—or at least, I would have off of you. I would’ve been a king. But you had to go and ruin everything, didn’t you?” My heartbeat is racing so fast I might give myself a heart attack from the panic coursing through my body right now.

Rick leans in, and I can smell the faint hint of vodka on his breath, ironic after him going on about my mother being drunk all the time. “And now? Well, now, you’re worth more to me dead than alive.”

This … this is bad.

Really fucking bad.

I have no idea how I’m going to get out of this. But my newfound panic at being shot point-blank is short-lived … until, for the second time today, the elevator chimes unexpectedly, announcing someone’s arrival. Rick straightens and points his gun at the doors before they open.

Please do not let that be Jack or Allie.

Please.

I don’t know who it is, but please do not let someone else I love get hurt because of me.

Please do not let my darkness swallow up someone else.

The sob that escapes me is covered by Rick’s manic laughter as my brother steps off the elevator as though he’s out for a stroll in the park. If he’s aware that Kane is bleeding all over Jack’s floor, Debbie Jo is knocked out, or that I was being held against my will, he is covering it exceptionally well.

But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here, and for the first time in the last hour or so since Rick, Debbie Jo, and Kane walked into the penthouse—the smallest seed of hope starts to grow within me. I don’t know how, or what will happen next, but I suspect that Wells being here is anything but coincidental—and I don’t think he’s as alone as he appears to be.

“Well, goodness, gracious, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Rick? We’ve been trying to get a hold of you, man. What have you been up to?” Wells strolls in, stepping around Kane as though he’s a pile of rubbish on the street without acknowledging the man bleeding on the floor, which is kind of iconic and would make me laugh if the action wouldn’t hurt like hell with my newly injured left ribs. He dismissively glances at Debbie Jo on the floor with a hum as he looks at me, ignoring the gun in Rick’s hand. “Hey, sissy, whatcha doing on the floor?” Wells cocks his head.

Sissy?

Wells has never ever called me sissy in my life. I know for a fact that he loathes that term of endearment because he heard too many people use it as an insult on the playground growing up and never understood why people would use it when talking about a loved one. “I was stopping by to see if…” He glances over at Rick and smiles before looking back to me and continuing. “¿Quieres ir a ver las estrellas?” And then he winks at me.