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His ability to remain calm despite what Ry has dumped on him is admirable. If his therapist’s life wouldn’t have been on the line, I would’ve done something bad. Like jump his bones. He’s that hot.
And her life is in danger. His and mine are too.
Our and…
My hands cover my stomach protectively.
I sit up, holding my breath. Listening closely, I try to catch whatever sounds come from the closet.
There are sounds of driving and shuffling. Of someone screaming behind a gag.
“She’s alive,” my best friend chirps.
In the background, I hear a pop, pop, pop sound. Rylan’s tapping on the steering wheel. Same as she does when she’s—
Bile rises in my throat.
When she’s happy.
“What about me?” Rylan laughs, and I clutch the sheets. “Don’t you care about me?”
“Of course, I care.” Marcus returns from the closet wearing a dark gray T-shirt. A frown mars his face. “You know I love you, sweetheart.”
He’s brought clothes for me. When he throws his phone on the bed again, he signals for me to stand and raise my arms.
“So why haven’t you called?” Her shrill scream is deafening.
I flinch. Marcus doesn’t.
“Why don’t you tell me, Ry?” He continues to dress me in an oversized, black V-neck shirt, then helps me into my panties and a pair of light jeans. “Your little garden project? Your special iced tea?”
“What are you talk—”
“We’re done pretending, okay?”
The way the corners of his eyes crinkle breaks my heart. That’s all he lets on, though. His voice is hard as steel. His muscles pulled tight.
“I should’ve called you sooner, you’re right about that. You and I should have a heart-to-heart in person, Rylan. It’s way long overdue. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come to you.”
“You chose the worst timing to start underestimating me, Dad,” she hisses. The brakes of her car screech. “I’m the one coming to you. Tell me where you are, and Dr. Hatchett gets to keep her life.”
A few seconds later, the gagged screaming intensifies. Poor Dr. Hatchett’s cries blare in my ears.
“Or not.” Rylan giggles, the evil laugh sending chills down my spine, and I clutch onto Marcus’s T-shirt. “Depends how long it’ll take you to give up your location.”
“Rylan, no one’s underestimating you,” Marcus tells her, then mouths to me, I’ll fix this. Don’t worry.
I try not to worry. Try to let go of his shirt.
“You haven’t. Up until now, no. Paying for your hideout with cash.” She giggles again. I’m shocked at how I haven’t realized her laughter is so fucking creepy before. “You haven’t left a paper trail. No emails, either. Sneaky, sneaky.”
“Everything I’ve done”—he grits his teeth, his gaze a mixture of anger and love—“every single thing, I’ve done for you. For both of you.”
“Plus…” When Rylan hums, another horrified screech echoes from the phone. “I know you have hidden cameras around the house. I couldn’t find them, so I did the second-best thing. I angled my laptop to the window. You couldn’t have put them there. No hiding on the glass, right? That’s also why Milo and I texted each other. Pretty brilliant, huh? Do you underestimate me now, Dad? Huh?”
“Rylan.” The one word is a threat and a plea. “Let Dr. Hatchett go. She’s innocent. It’s about you and me. Let’s solve this like the two grown-ups we are.”
“She helped you hide!” Another insane shriek. “You were so clever to smash your cellphone. To leave Leighton’s behind you. So I went to this bitch here, and she gave me nothing. She gave me no choice but to tap her phone. Bet you didn’t think I’d do that, either. Or that I’d rent a car with tinted windows and hold a knife to this bitch’s throat.”
