Why did she feel that he wasn’t being completely honest with her, wasn’t entirely on the up-and-up?

“Because he’s one of the Bridges boys,” she told herself as cool air began to blow from the car’s vents. Then, silently, she added, And you’re paranoid, anyway, Brianna. You don’t trust anyone. Least of all a boy, no, make that a man, who might have the ability to turn you inside out.

Still, there was something about Jase Bridges that caused her to think he knew more than what he was saying, that he had his own agenda. Something hidden. Something she couldn’t put her finger on and certainly didn’t trust.

So don’t call him.

“I won’t,” she promised herself. But even as she made the vow, she knew she was lying to herself.

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 15

“You’re an idiot!” Myra’s voice echoed through his brain as he drove to the cabin. The van bounced over a pothole, warm night air whistling inside through the broken window. His arm still hurt from where he’d smashed the glass. Oh, hell, he hurt all over from Zoe’s sneak attack. Little bitch!

Of course he had to report what had happened and now with his cell phone rammed against one ear he was taking the brunt of Myra’s wrath. He had known Myra would be angry, and he’d considered not telling her, but he’d let the truth slip and now she was furious with him.

“I’ll find her.” He made the promise aloud though Myra seemed to be seething and didn’t immediately answer. He almost thought the wireless connection had been lost. Again. That was the trouble with Myra; she’d often ice him out, not answer, make him think she wasn’t listening or worse yet, wasn’t there.

Finally, he heard her. “You bet you will. If you don’t, what do you think will happen?” She was nearly screeching now, her rage propelled by her own fear, her anger bouncing through his brain. “The police will come, you know. And you won’t get away.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

He imagined her lips, full and red, the color of Christmas ribbons, pulled down at the corners, her sharp white teeth flashing between them.

“I’ll use the dog,” he said. “I’ve got her clothes. Old Red, he’ll catch the scent.”

“You hope! For all you know, she could be miles away by now. What did you say? She floated downriver? For the love of Christ, how do you know she hasn’t been found? She might be at the police station even now.”

“She’s hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“Something was wrong with her leg.”