LITMIR.BIZ

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his wife. He wouldn’t have had to use a fake name if he’d done that.”

      “Let’s check it out, then.”

      Jace swung the car back onto the highway and a few minutes later, turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road. They followed the winding gravel path, squinting through the darkness at the well-kept houses tucked behind the foliage. As they passed the homes, the car’s headlights illuminated each labeled mailbox. The fifth box they passed had Kennedy spelled out in gold letters.

      “Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” Jace said, his tone grim. “That’s the name he uses to make his orders.”

      The world seemed to stop spinning as Reid stared at the mailbox. “Like the president.”

      “Yeah, arrogant fucker, isn’t he?” Jace pulled around the next bend in the road and parked out of view.

      Reid barely heard him over the pounding of his heart. He wet his lips. “Jace, do you still keep a gun in the car?”

      Jace shook his head. “Oh, hell no. You’re not going in there with a weapon. You’ll end up spending the rest of your life in an orange jumpsuit.”

      Reid pinned him with a stare. “The new evidence I found on Brynn’s mother’s case points to someone with the last name Kennedy as the murderer.”

      His eyes widened. “Fuck.”

      “We might have more than a rapist out for a repeat performance. Brynn’s sister was the one who originally had the new evidence.”

      Jace looked toward the house, creases of concern framing his mouth. “You think he’s got both of the girls?”

      “I’m about to find out,” Reid said, his voice resolute, but his insides twisting with worry. Davis had a jump of time on them. What if he’d done something to Brynn or Kelsey already? No. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He would not be too late for Brynn this time. If this bastard had her, Reid would do whatever it took to get to her and protect her. “Give me your gun. I won’t use it unless I need to.”

      With a deep frown, Jace leaned over, popped open the glove compartment, and handed him the Smith & Wesson.

      Reid checked the safety, then tucked it in the back of his waistband, hiding it beneath his loose T-shirt. “Call the police. I’m going in.”

      “Let me come in with you. Keep the numbers on our side. Or, why don’t we wait for the cops?”

      “No, I don’t want to waste any more time—every minute could count. And I need you to stay out here to make sure at least one of us can help if something goes wrong.”

      Jace sank back against his seat and ran his hands over his face. “Fifteen minutes. If whatever Podunk police force isn’t here by then, I’m coming in after your ass.”

      Reid gave a quick nod and pushed open the car door to climb out. After double-checking the gun was secured, he quickly made his way toward the house. He had never shot anything besides a paper target at a shooting range—he’d always been too much of an animal lover to even join Patrick on his biannual hunting trips. But Reid knew if Davis had hurt either one of the women, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the fucker right in the heart. Or maybe tear him limb from limb with his bare hands. A gunshot might be too humane.

      He stared at the door for a moment, not sure if he should try to sneak in. This was Texas—people tended to shoot first, ask questions later. If he had the wrong house, he’d get shot regardless of if Davis was on the other side or not. Better to make sure he was on the right track first. Knowing Davis he’d probably be arrogant enough to answer the door, pretend everything was fine.

      He rapped on the heavy oak door as icy calm overtook him.

      A minute passed and he thought he heard shuffling on the other side, but the door didn’t open. The chickenshit was going to ignore him? Oh, hell no. He pounded on the door with the side of his fist, the wood rattling beneath it. “Open up, Ackerman. We need to talk.”

       So much for subtlety.

      When no answer came, he reached for the handle in frustration and jiggled it. The lever handle gave easily and the lock clicked. He gave the door a tentative push and it creaked open, revealing a darkened living room of whitewashed furniture. Moonlight streamed in from the wall of windows at the back of the room—the lake glinting a few yards beyond the small backyard. Reid slipped his hand behind him, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the gun. He took a cautious step forward, the carpet absorbing the noise.

      He paused in the entryway, tuning his ears to each nuance of sound around him—the breeze rustling the bushes outside, the hum of a refrigerator in the nearby kitchen, the click of the air-conditioning shutting off. The ordinary soundtrack of an empty house. But the hair on his arms was standing on end. Despite all the normalcy, something was off.

      He closed the door behind him with a gentle snick, shutting out the outdoor noises, and listened more closely. There it was. Underneath all those mundane hums and clicks, a muffled sound that started then stopped in an irregular pattern. He eased the gun from his waistband and moved toward the kitchen with silent steps.

      The unfamiliar sound grew a shade louder. He scanned the kitchen, quickly determining it was empty, then approached the only closed door in the room. He pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear what lay beyond. The sound he’d been following increased in volume and hit him straight in the chest. A soft groan. Human and undeniably female.

      All caution flew from his brain, and he grabbed at the handle with his free hand. The door eased open and exposed a shadowed flight of stairs. Basements weren’t normal in Texas, and Reid could think of only one reason why Davis would have a house built with one—to conceal his dirty secrets.

      The pitiful sound of whimpering increased, and Reid had to force himself not to rumble down the stairs like a charging bull. Keeping the gun poised in front of him and clinging to the shadows, he eased down the steps. When he reached the point where the shaft of light from the basement angled too wide for him to stay hidden, he crouched down to peek around the wall blocking his view.

      His heart jumped into his throat. Brynn—naked and hanging upside down on a St. Andrew’s cross. She’d been blindfolded and ball-gagged, but her choked sobs and moans made it past the blockage. Angry welts striped her torso, breasts, and thighs, and blood seeped from the lashes as her body heaved with her panicked breaths.

      Rage whipped through him like a gale force wind. After a quick scan to make sure no one else was in the room, he hustled toward Brynn. She tensed and turned silent, apparently sensing she was no longer alone.

      He tucked the gun in his waistband. “Brynn, sugar, it’s Reid. I’m here.”

      A strangled cry escaped from her.

      “I’m going to get you off this thing,” he said, reaching for the blindfold first, knowing that scared her as much as anything.

      When he pulled the material from her, her bloodshot eyes were wide and swollen from crying. Unintelligible noises emanated from behind her gag, but he wanted to get her freed before anything else. He searched for the mechanism to turn the bondage wheel that the cross was attached to right-side up. “Shh, it’s okay, baby.”

      He hoped Davis had taken off when he’d realized he’d been caught, but Reid knew he could still be in the house. They needed to get the hell out of here. Fast.

      He found the device and cranked the wheel. The thing groaned and squeaked as he slowly spun Brynn right-side up. Damn, could the thing be any louder? Might as well have a bullhorn announcing his location. He threw a glance over his shoulder, verifying they were still alone.

      Once he’d gotten her fully upright, he went to work on the straps securing her wrists. She shook her head frantically and tried to speak. He frowned. “Sugar, it’s all right. I’m going to get you out of here. Just try to breathe. I’ll get the gag off you in one sec.”

      His big fingers fought

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