“Exeter?” Wyatt asks.
It’s been a few weeks, and I assumed that he would have forgotten all about me, including my name.
I smile before nervously tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Hey, Wyatt,” I breathe.
“Fuck, do you think you could help us?” he asks.
I step around MawMaw, opening the screen door to walk out on the porch. “Whatever you need, Wyatt,” I exhale, unfortunately, my words meaning everything they do and do not imply.
I hear him curse, but ignore it, because I already know he just needs my help for this friend of his. Him asking me doesn’t really mean anything. I know who he’s looking for too. There’s only one pregnant woman in town who is connected to Jacob and his brother, James.
It’s Channing Shephard, and I think that poor girl has been through enough. I know an abused sister when I see one, and I’ll do whatever I can to save her, to deliver her into the arms of this tattooed man that is so desperate to have her back.
James is a teacher at the high school, and if gossip is true, they’ve been carrying on an affair since Channing was a student. Also, if rumor is true, the baby she carries is her ex-teachers and not this man who says he’s her boyfriend.
My eyes skirt back over to the tattooed man in front of me. Then it dawns on me, this is Rylan. I remember reading in the paper about him, he’s just out of jail after going away for drunk driving and accidentally killing a pregnant woman and the baby.
God. I shake my head, deciding they’ve had more than enough thrown at them. If I can help, that’s what I’m going to do.
“Go ahead inside, MawMaw, call the sheriff if you need to,” I instruct.
MawMaw lifts her chin, giving me a small wink before she disappears into the house.
“What do you know?” the tattooed stranger asks.
I glance over at Jacob’s house then back over to the group of equally handsome men. “I know whatever he does in there, it’s nothing good. I’ll see if I can sneak in the back. He never locks it.” I shrug.
“Exeter?” Wyatt grunts.
My eyes find his. “Doesn’t matter, Wyatt. I know who Channing is, I’ve heard the rumors. I know who Jacob and James are, too. I want to help.”
Without another word, I turn away from them and hurry toward the back of the house, the place that I’ve seen Emily disappear into more times than I would prefer to know.
Chapter Five
WYATT
I watch Exeter walk away, my body frozen for a moment. Then my feet quickly become unstuck as soon as she turns and her body disappears around a corner.
Careful not to make noise, I watch her slip inside of a sliding glass door. She doesn’t close it all the way, so I silently follow her into the house. I can’t believe I’m fucking breaking into this house, but for Rylan and Channing, I would do anything. To protect Exeter from harm, I would do anything.
“Don’t worry, I’m the uptight bitch from next door. The sheriff is coming, maybe. Wyatt and his crew are outside, pacing and pissed,” Exeter whispers.
I grunt, crouching down behind her. “I’m not pissed,” I hiss.
Exeter makes a squeaking noise, her hands on the binds of Channing’s wrist. “Where did you come from. Why are you here?” she asks.
“Can you guys argue elsewhere?” Channing grinds out. “I’m kind of in a situation.” She sounds scared, terrified, and I hope that she isn’t hurt.
Rylan doesn’t need any more pain in his life, and neither does she. They deserve their bit of happiness and I’m going to make damn fucking sure that they have it too. Someone needs to be happy, goddammit.
“Okay, Channing,” I chuckle.
I bat Exeter’s hands away as I move to untie Channing’s wrists, only to have her bat my hands away as well. With a growl, I grab ahold of Exeter’s wrists and hold them still. Pushing her hands away, careful not to add too much force. She really fucking sucks at untying binding.
“Exeter, you make one more move and I’ll cut this bitch,” a voice growls.
The new woman’s voice sounds strained, harsh, and young. Slowly, I lift my gaze to see her standing in front of Channing, holding a knife. Her hair is stringy, her body completely nude and covered with red marks combined with old and new purple and yellow bruising.
“Don’t do this, Emily. Please, don’t do this,” Exeter begs, her eyes focused on the woman.
The Emily girl shakes her head. She looks manic. There is definitely something more working behind her tired eyes. She’s Jacob’s newest piece, she must be. That asshole has been using and abusing young girls for years. Grinding my jaw, I wonder how he is still breathing clean air, where he should be is in fucking jail.
“She is trying to ruin everything, Exeter,” she hisses.
Exeter makes a noise in the back of her throat. “No, she’s not. Her boyfriend wants her back home, she doesn’t want anything to do with these people, you have to believe me,” she pleads.
“I can’t just let you walk out,” Emily mutters.
Exeter steps to the side then moves toward Emily. I follow her, placing my hand against her lower back. I don’t know if it’s for support, or protection, or maybe just because I need to feel her beneath my fingers right now. I need to make sure she’s safe.
“You can, and you will,” I announce.
I reach into the back of my jeans and grab the gun that I shoved into my waistband before I got out of my truck. I always keep my handgun with me, and today I’m glad for my bit of paranoia. Holding my piece in my grip, I keep it at my thigh, careful not to spook Emily, who is still holding onto her knife with a death grip.
Emily swings the knife toward us. We both jump back, freezing in our spots. My finger itches to pull the trigger, but I don’t. Just looking into her eyes, I can see that she’s not all there. She’s sick. I stay still, waiting for this scene to unfold and try to stall so that the sheriff can get here before anyone gets hurt.
“If I scream, they’ll be in here, then you’ll all die,” Emily says. “You need to leave, Exeter. I can’t save you.”
“Why are you this way? Why do you do this?” Exeter asks, keeping her voice soft and gentle.
Emily shakes her head, lifting her free hand to her throat. “He loves me. You don’t understand. You never will, because no one man wants you the way Jacob wants me.”
“He’s sick, Emily. You’re sick too,” Exeter whispers.
Emily shakes her head, her eyes even wilder than before. “He’s not. He loves me and sometimes love hurts. Just like your dad hurt you, just like mine hurt me,” she rambles.
My back stiffens, and I know that she isn’t going to stop. Her words, though, they slice through me. Their meaning is not lost on me, not even for a fucking second. Shoving the gun in the back of my jeans, I take a chance and charge Emily.
Lifting my hand, I put my palm over her mouth and push her down to the floor. If she sticks me with her knife, I’ll most likely survive, she’s painfully thin and extremely weak. I don’t want her hurting anyone else, though, and now she’s talking about personal shit, personal shit that I’m sure Exeter doesn’t want broadcasted.