He saw grudging acceptance in Connor’s eyes.
Micah touched him on the shoulder. “Man, there are two Galveston cops here to talk to you. They want to question you about what went down at the beach house.”
“I’d like to hear as well,” Pop spoke up. “If I’m going to get my daughter back, I need to know everything I can about this ass**le.”
CHAPTER 37
Faith became aware of someone shaking her shoulder. She tried to open her eyes, but it hurt too much.
“Faith, Faith, baby, you have to wake up.”
The harsh whisper, urgent, roused her, and she pried her eyes open. She blinked when she saw her mother staring down at her.
“Mama?”
“Shhh,” Celia Martin said, placing a shaky finger over her lips. “He’ll be back any time. You have to be quiet.”
Faith tried to order her muddled thoughts, but she was having trouble focusing. When she tried to move her arms, she discovered she couldn’t even feel them. Same with her legs.
“What happened?” she whispered.
“I need to get you untied. Don’t move, okay?”
Faith nodded and winced as another excruciating bolt of pain seized her skull. As Celia fumbled with the knots at her wrists, Faith closed her eyes and tried to reassemble everything that had happened.
An ache grew in her chest, horrible and black as she remembered the gunshots. She saw Mick fall and then Gray. Betrayal. Grief. Confusion. Nothing made sense.
Hot tears leaked from her eyelids. Then the rope around her wrists loosened, and a thousand little needles attacked her as the blood started flowing again. She moaned in agony, and again Celia hurriedly shushed her.
A few minutes later, her legs were free, but she lay there, unable to move. Celia pulled at her arms and forced her into a sitting position.
“Listen to me, honey, you have to get out of here. He’s crazy. He’s going to kill you whether he gets the money or not.”
The stark fear in her mother’s voice roused her from her lethargy.
“Did you hear me, Faith? You’ve got to go now. He won’t leave you here alone for long. I’ll help you out the back way, and then you’ll have to run for help. I’ll stall him as long as I can.”
“You can’t stay here,” Faith whispered. “You have to come with me.”
Celia made a sound of impatience. “He won’t kill me. He needs me. But you have to go. I don’t have time to argue with you. Come on.”
Her mother’s urgency spurred Faith to action. She stood and wobbled as pain shot down her spine. Had he hit her? She had to think hard. The time after the beach house was one big blur. She remembered struggling, trying to escape. Then he’d struck her in the head with the butt of the gun.
She raised a hand to her head, and her fingers came away sticky with blood.
Celia pulled her out of the dark room. Where were they? It resembled some kind of vacant warehouse. Her mother paused at the doorway then pulled Faith into the large open area. The rough concrete abraded her bare feet as she stumbled along behind her mother.
When they reached the back, Celia opened a battered door and shoved Faith into the night.
“The alleyway leads out to a street. You have to go. He’ll be here any minute. I love you.”
With that, she shut the door, leaving Faith alone and shivering in the humid alleyway.
She clutched her arms around her midsection and started toward a distant streetlight. Dizzy, disoriented and in pain, she started to run, the memory of her captor shooting Mick and Gray vivid in her memory. He would kill her. Of that she had no doubt.
Her feet pounded the broken cement of the narrow alleyway. Trash, rotten food and God knew what else squished beneath her toes. She tripped as she neared the end and went sprawling. She cried out despite her best effort not to, but pain knifed through her body as she went crashing to the pavement.
In desperation, she dragged herself up and started running again. When she reached the end, she ran onto the street and looked left and right. God, it was empty. No cars, no lights other than what lined the street. It was an older section of town, and what businesses might be located on the street had long since closed for the day.
She chose a direction and ran. Her breath tore from her throat in painful bursts. Her surroundings blurred and passed with dizzying sickness. It felt as though someone had shoved a knife right through the back of her head.
One block. Two. She continued on until she feared passing out. When she’d gone approximately three blocks, she tripped again and went down, her hands flying out to break her fall. She landed face-first on the hard, broken street.
Tears flooded her eyes as she gasped for breath. Pain rendered her immobile. She couldn’t force herself back up. She struggled to her knees and looked down at her torn, bleeding palms.
As she glanced behind her, she was blinded by a bright light. She threw up her arm in a protective measure to shield her eyes as she tried to scramble up and flee.
“Ma’am, ma’am, are you okay?”
She strained to see who was talking to her. The light shifted, and she could see the outline of a man walking her way. She whimpered and threw herself the rest of the way up, prepared to run for her life.
“Houston Police. I’m here to offer assistance.”
She froze then looked down, and for the first time saw what he was seeing. Her clothes were torn and bloodied. Her hair hung around her face in disarray.
As he approached, he shone the light down and farther away from her. His expression was guarded, but he viewed her with concern.
“Ma’am, are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
His voice was soft and reassuring, like he was afraid she’d run. His hand touched her shoulder, and a shudder worked through her.
He turned the light toward her face again, and she flinched away from the glare. “Ma’am, are you Faith Malone?” There was excitement in his voice.
“Y-yes.” Her voice cracked and she tried again. “Yes, I’m Faith Malone.”
“We’ve been looking for you. God almighty, how did you escape?” His voice was all business now, and he picked up the mic to his radio.
She listened as he excitedly called in their location and requested an ambulance. Then he turned his attention back to her.
“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened? How did you come to be out here?”
“He’s back there,” she croaked.
The policeman whirled around, drawing his weapon.
“At a warehouse,” she said. “We were at a warehouse. A few blocks back. My mother…she helped me escape. You have to go back for her. She’s in danger. He’s holding her too. She helped me.”