Fear Us Page 33


“Satellite. I hacked into one that had slack security and pinpointed the location. We’re getting live video feed of the house now. It’s pretty big, and it’s completely isolated. It’s the perfect place to hide someone.”

“Have you seen any movement?”

“Not yet. If they are smart, they will keep their heads low so it could be a while before we can confirm anyone is even there.”

“We don’t have a while. Text me the address, stay on the radar, and keep me posted on any activity. If a bird shits on the roof, I want to know about it. I’m going out there.”

“I’m going with you,” Quentin announced. I nodded once but was already on my way out the door.

* * * * *

The house was exactly how Jesse described it. Along with the address, I had him send me pictures of the house and surrounding area, so we were able to pick out a scouting spot before ever reaching the house.

Quentin convinced me to wait a couple of hours to survey the area to see if anyone was coming or going, but after forty-five minutes of nothing, I was tempted to ditch the plan and charge in with guns blazing.

It’s amazing how much I was willing to risk and how far I was willing to go for someone I’d never met.

“Keenan, your phone has been going off the last five minutes. You going to get that?”

I looked on the dash of Keiran’s car just in time to see the screen light darken. By the time I picked it up, the phone was ringing again.

“Yeah?” I answered while keeping my eyes trained on the house.

Sheldon’s frantic voice caused my heart to feel as if it were being ripped from my chest. I could barely hear her babbling over the pounding of my heart.

“Slow down, baby. What’s wrong?”

I was torn.

Torn between staying and saving my daughter or racing to comfort my high school sweetheart. I had to steel myself against the onslaught of emotions and remember that love wasn’t part of the equation.

“I came home and found a note asking for money or Kennedy will die.”

“Fuck!” I banged my fist against the steering wheel, forgetting that Sheldon was on the phone.

“What’s going on?”

“Someone delivered a ransom note.”

A knock on my window interrupted whatever Quentin had been about to say. We both had our guns drawn quickly, but the driver’s car door was opened, and I was yanked out before I could pull the trigger.

CHAPTER TEN

KEENAN

“WHAT THE FUCK are you doing here, son?”

I brushed away my father’s—no, John’s hands and took a step back. “You seem to have selective memory. I’m not your son.”

“Have you always been this stupid or just today?”

“I don’t have time for this.” I turned back to the car, but he yanked me up by my shirt and slammed me against the side of the car.

“Then you make time, and for the record, you little shit, I don’t care what biology says. You’re my son. Question it again and I will kill you myself.”

I saw the truth in his eyes along with anger and the anguish even though I didn’t want to. “How did you find me?”

He had been missing for the last week and chose now of all times to show up.

“I found a kid in my home doing something that didn’t look the least bit legal. Do you know something about that?”

“He’s helping me find my kid.”

“What makes you think she’s here?”

“It’s the only place we haven’t looked.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“It’s not the best time to start caring, Dad. If she’s in there, I need to get her.”

“How did you find this place?”

“Is it true?” I asked, ignoring his question. I knew he knew what I was asking. I wanted to know if his parents, my grandparents, had been living right here all this time. I’d never met them, and John had never spoken of them.

“It doesn’t matter. You have no business here. You don’t belong here.”

“You’ve got it partially right. I don’t belong anywhere.” I realized four years ago, but time changed a lot, and I eventually learned not to give a shit.

“Are we doing this?” Q asked, coming around the car. John kept his eyes on me.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.” The tension in his shoulders increased. “But not today.”

One thing I liked about Q was he didn’t ask questions.

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