Page 9 of Wicked Promises
No jacket.
No shoes.
“Margo,” I whisper, rolling her onto her back. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She groans. My heart jumps at the sound.
Her lips are nearly blue, her skin too pale.
I swing my light around, making sure we’re alone in the barn. I need to get her out of here. She was in a car accident, and then who knows what happened to her between now and then. I pick her up, wincing at how cold she is.
She’s been out here for hours. I didn’t notice the bite of the wind, but for her to be alone, with no coat or shoes…
She could’ve almost died.
I cradle her head to my chest and hurry back the way I came.
I almost crash into Eli. His flashlight sweeps across my face, then Margo’s. His eyes widen, and without a word he leads the way back to my car.
He opens the back door for me. I slide in without releasing her, holding her close, and he makes sure her feet are fully in before he shuts the door. His eyebrows hike when he makes contact with her skin.
Without asking, he blasts the heat. He cranes around. “Hospital?”
“No shit.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Just making sure you don’t want to do this the private way.”
I scoff.
Theprivateway would probably land me in more hot water with the Rose Hill Police Department, and it would involve asking my uncle to call his physician. That old man has patched me up a few times in the last seven years…
But since Uncle has a grudge against the Wolfe family, I think he’d rather enjoy denying her care.
I stroke Margo’s hair and will her to wake up. Her face is peaceful—minus the blood—and she could almost pass for sleeping. Still, it doesn’t negate that some asshole abducted her and left her for dead. Without a coatorshoes.
I’m going to kill them.
I shift and slide my phone out, thumbing a message to Unknown.
Me
I’m going to find you.
“You don’t think your family was behind this, do you?” Eli glance back.
The ride is smoother now that we’re back on the main road.
I tug at the tape on Margo’s wrists. “We’ve been operating under the assumption that Unknown is our age. I think that is still accurate. My uncle wouldn’t be so…”
Sloppycomes to mind.
As harsh as it sounds, I don’t think he’d leave Margo alive, let alone somewhere I could find her. Even more unlikely that he’d point me in her direction.
He grunts. “Does she have her phone on her?”
I shift her, feeling her pockets. “Nope.”
“How’s she doing?”