Page 4 of Unplanned Target

“I do what needs to be done using any means necessary.” Again, he weaves his way around giving me what I want.

“Well I’m about to go kill people, so I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later.”

I drop behind the wheel and close the door, reaching up to punch the button on the garage door opener clipped to my visor as I attempt to disconnect the call a second time.

And a second time Owen’s voice stops me.

“And what are you going to do with the bodies when you’re done?”

I hadn’t really thought that far. My primary concern is finding my daughter and killing whoever took her. Whatever happens after that, happens.

Owen correctly assumes my pause is due to uncertainty. “You can’t just leave bodies laying around. It causes a lot of paperwork, and can get very messy very quickly.” I hear the slamming of a door and the starting of an engine. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay put.”

I’m not in the habit of doing what men tell me to do. In general, their directions are usually wrong, but even if they’re not, I have no interest in following orders. But Owen seems to be insinuating he’s capable of making any bodies I create disappear.

And that could definitely come in handy.

“You have fifteen minutes. Then I’m going to find my daughter by myself and I’m leaving the bodies where they hit the floor.”

TWO

OWEN

When Butch wakes up from the drug-induced nap he’s taking, I’m pretty confident he’s going to attempt to kill me. He won’t be successful—I have a little more experience in that arena than he does—but he’s for sure gonna give it one hell of a go.

And I get it. If one of my nieces was missing, I’d kill anyone who got between me and finding her. Unfortunately for Butch, he’s not in any condition to find anything but the backs of his eyelids.

It’ll probably only make shit worse that I’m not his favorite person, which again, I get. If I had a woman I wanted the way he wants Becca, I’d knock the shit out of anyone who tried to get her attention. I’ve done my best to make it clear I don’t want what’s his, so I don’t think he hates me like he did initially. But I’m sure if he had his choice, I would not be the one driving to his sister’s house right now.

He’s going to have to get over it though. I’m the one who was there when she called for help, so I’m the one who’s going to be providing it.

When I reach Miranda’s neighborhood, I circle the block a few times, getting the lay of the land and making sure no one suspicious is lurking nearby. The neighborhood where Butch’s sister and niece live is well-established, with mature trees and perfectly manicured lawns. The houses aren’t new, but they are large and well maintained. It’s the perfect picture of familial, suburban bliss.

Something I’ve never experienced and, based on the way things are going, probably never will.

Once I’m satisfied no one is staking her place out, I park my Jeep in Miranda’s driveway and jog up the brick paver sidewalk to the front door. It opens before I can even raise my hand to knock or ring the bell.

And I fucking stop in my tracks.

Butch is a nice enough looking guy, I guess. If you ignore the constant frown he wears and the way he snarls at everyone around him, I’m sure most women would find him appealing.

But it hadn’t occurred to me his sister might also be appealing.

Appealing is actually a fucking understatement. Butch’s sister is gorgeous. A wavy mass of thick, shiny, dark hair is cropped at her chin, framing a heart-shaped face. She has big brown eyes lined with thick lashes, and full lips. Her tall figure is curved in all the right places.

And making it hard as hell not to stare.

Clearing my throat, I give myself a mental shake, putting my focus back where it belongs—finding Allie.

“Miranda?” I should probably confirm I’m where I’m supposed to be. I’m not super familiar with Memphis, so I could be at a neighbor’s house.

A mind-numbingly pretty neighbor’s house.

“You’re Owen?” Miranda doesn’t directly confirm her identity, but since she knows mine, I’m gonna guess I’m in the right place.

And it doesn’t seem like she’s super thrilled about it.

Offering a nod, I scan the neighborhood once more from where I stand on the porch, looking for anything that seems out of place or might hint at where the teenager has gone. “I’m Owen.” When nothing suspicious jumps out at me, I turn back to Butch’s sister. “Let’s go inside so you can tell me what’s going on.”