When the Dead Speak Bailey Bradford (books on motivation txt) 📖

to his chest, Sev considered his options. The guest room was almost directly across from him, but were the curtains pulled? Would he open that door only to find a sociopath peering in at him? Sev shuddered at the thought, sure his heart would just up and stop right then if that happened. There was another door that Sev suspected was a linen closet—not a good spot for him to hide. A tug on his hair had him looking up, and Sev spied a panel in the ceiling. Of course Conner would suggest the attic, but there’s no way that wouldn’t make a lot of noise!

A soft ‘snick’ sounded from Laine’s bedroom followed by a scraping noise. Sev knew it for what it was, had slid his own bedroom window open dozens of times as a teen and slipped out into the night. Terror spurred him into action. Laine’s home was outside of town, secluded by cactus, mesquite and scrub—no one would hear him if he screamed. The urge to run was strong, but Sev squelched it, hoping to keep his steps silent as he edged closer to the kitchen. There was a door there that opened to the side of the house—if he could just make it to that door, maybe he’d have a chance.

* * * *

Laine was headed out on a call for vandalism when the temperature in his vehicle dropped from hellaciously hot to chill inducing. Sev! He couldn’t say how he knew it, but the man was in danger. Whoever Conner had tried to warn them about was here… No, Laine thought, he’s there, in my house, and so is my lover.

Flipping on the lights and sirens, he jerked the steering wheel around as hard as he dared, trying to remain calm against the fear that threatened to cripple him. He was only about fifteen minutes away from home—less if he really laid on the gas. Laine had a second’s debate about whether he should call for backup, but he had sent Deputy Nixon to a rustling call that was a good forty-five minutes out.

Hand shaking, he flipped open his cell phone. There was only one number he could think to call for help. Laine needed to warn them. He’d asked them earlier to stop by and check on Sev, but now he was torn between hoping Zeke and Brendon were still safe on the ranch and hoping they could rescue Sev if Laine wasn’t fast enough.

* * * *

Goosebumps covered Sev’s skin as an angry snarl came from Laine’s bedroom. It had to be obvious that Laine had been fucking his lover hours before—the scent of sex had lingered in the room, and condom wrappers and lube were easily found. And if that man touched the bed, he’d feel the warm spot Sev had just vacated…

The utter silence seemed to confirm Sev’s worst fear as he reached for the kitchen door. Please don’t let it squeak! The knob turned quietly, the door opening with ease. Sev squeezed through as soon as the door was open enough and carefully closed it behind him. He ran full tilt toward the mesquites, one hand cupping his genitals—there were just some places he was not going to risk getting scratched—nearly stumbling with each step as his feet landed on rocks and mesquite thorns.

As he lunged through the scrub and prickly pear, skin stinging with each encounter of the spiky stuff, Sev could just make out the sounds of sirens in the distance. Relief was doused by fear. If Laine went into that house while the intruder was still there… Sev knew Laine was the real goal, had been all along. Conner had just been a convenient way for the sick fucker to torment Laine. How angry would that psycho be that his target eluded him for years?

The sound of an engine competed with the noise from the sirens. Sev peeked out from behind the cactus he was using for cover. A big, black Dodge pulled into the drive, dust and gravel spitting out from beneath its wheels. He squinted and thought he recognized the men in the cab. The sound of sirens grew closer as the two men threw open the truck doors, the bigger man—Zeke, he remembered—grabbing a shotgun from the gun rack. Sev stood and whistled, not wanting them to go any closer to the house and the mad man inside. When Zeke rounded on him with that rifle pointing at his chest, Sev nearly pissed himself.

“Hey! That’s Severo!” Brendon pushed Zeke’s rifle aside and ran to Sev. Zeke was slower in moving, his cane nowhere to be seen. Brendon’s eyes widened as he took in Sev’s naked state. “Why are you naked? Jesus, you’re all scratched to hell!”

Still cupping his privates, Sev tried to explain, but he stuttered to a stop as a masked figure shot out of the back of the house and took off running. Zeke and Brendon turned to see what he was staring at. Zeke brought the rifle up and fired, the sound of the shot temporarily blotting out the wail of the sirens.

“Fuck!” Zeke handed the rifle to Brendon then turned to Sev. “You look like shit. Here.” Zeke pulled off his T-shirt and handed it to Sev as Laine roared to a stop a few feet away. Sev tugged the shirt on, only mildly surprised to find Laine in front of him when his head popped through the hole of the tee. Before he could even blink, strong arms were pulling, lifting and crushing him against Laine’s chest.

The feel of those arms holding him was worth every bit of discomfort that skittered over Sev’s abraded skin. Sev wrapped his arms around Laine’s neck and held on for dear life.

“He was here,” Sev finally managed to murmur. “I don’t think he knew I was there at first. Laine, he wants you—”

Laine’s embrace tightened and cut off Sev’s explanation, then he was gently lowered to