Page 153 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
I stopped fighting and the hand at my mouth loosened. I craned my neck and saw a familiar face.
“Dash?”
He pressed a finger to his lips and shushed me. Then he released his hold, grabbed my hand and pulled me behind a large tree near my house.
In the distance, Steffie raved like a lunatic.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, crouching close to the ground to hide.
He shook his head, signaling for me to remain quiet.
I nodded and turned, peering around the side of the tree. I was so relieved to be out of that house but more confused than ever.
Minutes went by as we hid and listened for any sign of Steffie. She had stopped screaming and I had no clue where she could have gone.
Movement at the corner of my eye made me flinch. I watched with wide eyes as my stalker emerged from behind the house, creeping slowly toward the front with a sizeable pistol in his hand. He looked just like I remembered, ginger hair and a scrawny frame. His eyes were beady and set too close to the bridge of his nose.
A shiver ran down my spine as he slithered past the tree, thankfully unaware of our presence.
Dash nudged my arm, jerking his chin toward the back corner of the house. Another figure emerged from the same place my stalker had just come from.
Draven.
With cat-like steps, he closed the distance to my stalker. The cocking hammer of Draven’s handgun filled the silent air.
“Drop it,” Draven ordered.
My stalker tossed his gun to the dirt without hesitation. Then with one swift but powerful blow, Draven slammed the butt of his gun into the back of my would-be murderer’s skull, sending his body crumpling to the ground.
“Come on out,” Draven called.
“Did you get the skank?” Dash yelled.
“Yeah. She’s tied up inside with Jet.”
Dash hauled me to my feet and tugged me behind him as we walked toward Draven and the unconscious man at his feet.
“Tie up this guy,” Draven said.
While Dash obeyed his president’s command, the shock of the situation hit me. I wrapped my arms around my tummy as my shoulders started to shake, but before I could collapse, Draven wrapped me in a tight embrace.
“You’re okay,” he said.
The shaking turned into sobs and I buried my face in his shirt.
“You’re okay, Emmeline,” he said. “You’re okay. It’s over.”
“Where is he?” I asked for the hundredth time.
I was in the conference
room at the sheriff’s station, just like the last time I’d had a gun pointed at me. But this time, Nick wasn’t by my side. Instead, I was surrounded by Draven and men from his motorcycle club.
And no one was telling me where my husband was. Every time I called his cell phone, it went straight to voicemail.
It had been almost four hours since Steffie’s attack. After I’d pulled myself together, Draven had driven me to town. The sheriff’s station, which had been practically deserted when we’d arrived, was now buzzing with activity.
Jess had come in and taken my statement. Shortly thereafter, he had disappeared.
