Page 113 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

I owe them that.

The afternoon sun dips down in the sky, and I turn the truck’s lights on.I keep driving, but I’m turned around.The dirt road ends, and I almost drive over the side of a mountain.Getting out, I continue on foot.

Somehow, even though I’m short on miracles, I make it back to the rutted road that leads to the shack.My Toyota is still there, hidden by dirt and limbs and leaves.I scrape everything off, find my extra set of keys in a magnetized box in the undercarriage, and take off.

I’ll probably never see Pussy again.But she’s safe at the ranch.She’ll have a good life.Jasmine loves her, and every little girl needs a good kitty.

I fight the tears until I make it to the paved state road.I reach around behind me and grab the long dark wig and pull it onto my head.No one knows my car, but plenty have seen me.It’s not a foolproof disguise, but it’s something.

I drive in the direction of the freeway.I know where I’m going.Not because I want to, but because I have to.The time for hiding is over.

Special K was willing to give up everything to keep me safe.

It’s only right that I do the same for him.

CHAPTER 55

Special K

“Your hands are bruised but not broken and the lacerations are minor,” the doctor tells me.

He sits across from me in my cell.I’m perched on the edge of the bed and he’s on a rusty metal chair, the back of which is spray-painted with bright orange letters indicating it’s the property of the county jail.Just in case someone might want to steal it.

His latex exam gloves are cool against my skin.He narrows his eyes as he studies the swollen mess below the handcuffs, turning my hands this way and that, curling my stiff fingers, and pressing down on my knuckles.

“It’s my first-ever house call here,” he says.“Out of respect for your father.The MacLaines are the backbone of this whole…” He stops himself and clears his throat.

Except for me.That’s what the doctor was about to say.Because I’m the blond-haired black sheep of an otherwise respectable family.I’m the baby MacLaine, the one who can’t seem to keep his fists in his pockets and his ass out of jail.

I’m the wild one.

He gently cleans the skin with antiseptic.

“And son, if nothing’s broken, that’s a miracle.Because from what I’ve heard of your fisticuffs—one man against six, was it?—you should be in a body bag.I’ll wrap your hands in sterile gauze, just to protect them.”

Fisticuffs?What the fuck?That sidewalk smackdown was a blood sport, and very little of the blood was mine.

“Normally my nurse does the first aid, so don’t blame me if the bandage starts to unravel almost immediately.”

I’m not listening to him.

Instead, I’m counting in my head.

The deputies who booked me confiscated my tactical watch and my phone, along with my belt, hat, and shoelaces.So, I’m counting.

It’s been three hours since I was arrested.Evander hasn’t managed to get me released yet, and he warned that it could be one to two days before my bail hearing is scheduled.Cal and Declan returned to the ranch to make sure everyone’s safe and then they went searching for Frankie.Finn spent some time with Emma to make sure she was okay after witnessing what I did, and now he’s using his tech skills to run down ownership of the Escalade.

And all I can do is count.

The doc finishes bandaging my hands just as Cal and Declan return.Frankie isn’t with them.

“The bastard got her,” I say.I have to get out of here and find her.Save her.It’s what I swore I would do, but here I am in jail instead.

An abject failure.

“No,” Cal says.“She drove off on her own.We found your car on the back side of the ridge, keys in the ignition.”

“And an extra set of tire tracks indicate she was hiding an SUV on the back side of the hill,” Declan says.“The tire track database can’t reveal anything more specific.”