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Well, kudos to the Fastlanders for dropping whatever they were doing for this. Wreck appreciated it more than they could know.
Misunderstanding, but I’m trying to fix it.Send. It wasn’t in his nature to explain anything about his life, but they were being kind, and attentive toward his mate.
Keep us updated please.Gunner.
Will do.Send. And Wreck meant it. He would update them because they cared for the woman he cared for, and that made him like them more.
Sasha jogged toward him and gestured for him to go. “I’m covered. I’ll follow you to her house. I have a key to get in. I’ll be able to tell if she packed clothes and left already.”
He’d thought the drive to the hospital was the longest drive of his life, but he’d been wrong. It was this one—himspeeding down the main roads of Laramie, trying to get to Timber’s house as soon as he could.
Maybe she would be there, and he could catch her before she left town.
When his headlights flashed over her home, his heart sank. Her truck wasn’t here, just like when he’d been here before.
Sasha parked on the street and ran for the front door. “I’ve called her ten times, and she’s not picking up. No response to my texts, either. Doesn’t matter how mad she is, she never ignores my calls. Never.” The panic in Sasha’s voice made his temperature go up exponentially.
He jogged behind her, waited for her to use her spare key and shove the door open. It smelled strange. There was something he didn’t recognize. Someone.
“The door lock is messed up,” Sasha said, voice full of panic. “Look!”
He moved past her, and took one look at the scratched-up lock before he kicked the door in. He flipped the lights on, and when he inhaled, a low rumble escaped him. Someone had been in here, and it wasn’t Timber. Sasha ran to the kitchen table, and read the note that had been left there.
She turned the letter toward him. “This says she’s left without me. She’s already on the road, heading to some cabin near Rawlins.”
“Okay, that’s where we start looking then.”
Sasha was staring down at the note with horror filling her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know where to start looking.” She lifted her worried gaze to his, and then said something that made his entire world stand still. “Wreck,” Sasha whispered. “This isn’t Timber’s handwriting.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was too dark to see.
A muffled voice rattled her brain, and Timber groaned and curled in on herself. Her head was pounding.
She couldn’t make out any of the words, and the edges of her vision were just charcoal-gray fog.
The headache at her right temple threatened to split her head wide open.
“How…know…doing…”
Timber winced. She could understand some of the words, but the order didn’t make sense.
“You’re the one who chose this location…” The voice was feminine, and angry.
Timber lifted her hand to her head. Her skin was warm and slick, and the air smelled like wet copper.
She was bleeding.
She was bleeding a lot.
Panic flared in her chest as she applied pressure to where she thought the wound was.
“You said this would be far enough away. None of that is my fault or my problem!” That voice. So familiar.
