When the Dead Speak by Bailey Bradford (books to read to improve english txt) 📕

have been dialing out at the same time. Matt disconnected and tried again, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to warn him.

* * * *

Laine hit the end button on his cell phone and nearly dropped it when it rang immediately. He saw Matt’s number and felt a moment’s hope that Rich had shown up at the hotel.

“Is Rich there?”

A pain-filled moan had Laine’s hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Matt? What’s wrong?”

The answer turned Laine’s blood to ice. “He has Rich, said he’s had hours to play with him—”

“God damn it!” Laine’s stomach clenched and he laid the gas petal to the floorboard. “Matt! Matt!”

“Said you have fifteen minutes to…” Matt grunted, then groaned. A bolt of panic shot through Laine, followed by an eerie sense of calm as the star popped off of his shirt. “Get to where you need to be, alone. Or Rich dies. You gotta…”

Laine didn’t have a doubt where McAlister meant, and knowing the sick bastard had been going at Rich for hours, in Laine’s house… “Matt. What did he do to you? What happened?”

Harsh breathing was the only answer he received for several seconds before he heard the faint reply. Knowing his deputy was lying in an empty hotel room, bleeding out from a stab wound chased the ice out of Laine’s blood and replaced it with a burning anger. He would kill McAlister—fuck the man ever going to trial.

“Matt, I’m going to hang up and call nine-one-one. You just stay calm. I’ll get Rich out alive, I promise.” Or die trying. And if I go, I’m taking that fucker with me straight to Hell. Laine didn’t wait for Matt’s agreement, hanging up and placing the emergency call immediately instead. He finished that call and tossed his phone down on the seat, watching from his peripheral vision as the tin star continued to spin.

“What good is that doing, Conner?” Laine snapped, tired of the senseless game, and feeling strangely bereft when the star stilled, then slid to the floorboard. “He has Rich, Conner, and Matt is… God, Matt may die, and you’re spinning that damn star! I know who it is now!”

Laine took the turn to his house so fast that his truck nearly flipped. If McAlister had left the hotel right before Matt called, then Laine couldn’t be too far behind him. Sure enough, once the dust cleared, Laine saw a man getting out of an SUV in his drive. Rich’s little car was pulled off to the side, the tires flat.

McAlister ran up the steps into the house. Laine had a fleeting thought of plowing his truck into the house and running McAlister down but put it aside to the foolish notion that it was. He roared down the drive, braking hard and sideswiping McAlister’s SUV in the process. Then Laine threw the gear in park, shut the engine off, got out and tossed his keys into the scrub. If he didn’t make it out, he’d be damned if McAlister would have an easy escape. Laine’s truck had the SUV pinned in neatly, and his keys wouldn’t be easy for anyone else to find.

The kitchen door swung open before Laine had even stepped away from his truck. McAlister stood in the doorway, gun trained on Laine’s chest as he tipped his head in the direction of the vehicles.

“Well, aren’t you smart? Toss your gun.”

Laine did, seeing no alternative, then McAlister fired and pain ripped through Laine’s shoulder, and he wondered if he should have pinned that damned star back on as he stumbled and his knees hit the ground. Shit! I didn’t see that coming!

“I figured you had all that righteous indignation behind you, you know.” McAlister shrugged one shoulder. “Since I killed Conner and gutted him like a hog. And Rich, well, that boy’s a mess, let me tell you. Your deputy, though, he might make it, if he gets help fast enough.” He aimed the gun at Laine’s head and nodded. “Now, get the fuck up. That didn’t do anything other than hurt you. If you don’t get your ass in this house in the next minute, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes, then make sure Rich dies as painfully as possible.”

* * * *

Sev heard the phone ring and the low rumble of Brendon’s voice as he answered, then he was yelling for Zeke and Sev. Sev ran from the kitchen, Zeke hard on his heels, nearly toppling them both when Sev skidded to a halt in front of Brendon. The man’s brown eyes looked haunted, his skin pale and worry etched into his handsome features.

“That was Matt,” Brendon began before Sev or Zeke could ask. “McAlister has Rich, has had him for hours, if I heard right.”

“What do you mean, if you heard right?”

Brendon darted a glance at Sev before answering his partner. “Matt was…in and out of consciousness. He said McAlister had stabbed him, and told him to tell Laine to meet him, but Matt didn’t know where.” Brendon and Zeke both turned to Sev as a sweet scent filled the air.

Sev ignored the presence, racking his brain, trying to figure out where McAlister would want Laine to meet him. He could only think of one place.

“His house, has to be. How long ago was that?” Sev was already heading for the door, only to find himself jerked back when Zeke grabbed his arm. “What the fuck? Let’s go!”

“You need to stay here with Brendon while—”

Brendon slapped a hand to Zeke’s chest and shoved. “I don’t think so! This lunatic has taken out a detective and a deputy, and now he may very well have Laine! There’s no way you’re going alone, so forget that!”

“But—” Zeke sighed and pointed to the gun cabinet. “Grab a weapon and let’s go. Sev, you know how to shoot?”

Sev nearly rolled his eyes as he followed Brendon to grab a gun. “I’m a native Texan, don’t we all?” Hopefully, he still remembered how. It