Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)

“I don’t want to be used as a punching bag for days,” I said.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“We need to get Dawn out of here, along with any other children. I’d bet my last nickel some of them are abductees as well.”

“I’ll see your last nickel and raise you a silver dollar that some of the adults were abductees, too. Raised here since they were kids.”

“I bet you’re right. We need to figure out how to get out of here.”

“You don’t think I could’ve gotten out hours ago?”

I was finally able to sit up without toppling over. Angel kneeled beside me for support. “Then why, Reyes? Why let them…” My voice cracked so I stopped talking.

But he didn’t need me to finish. “Because these people need to go to jail, and the best way to ensure that—”

“—is to be found all kidnapped and bloody?”

He nodded.

“Reyes, they…” The image of him as a baby as the Fosters tried to kill him ravaged my mind again. It would be something I would never forget. I fought the sting in my eyes, but the sting kicked my ass. Like most things today. Tears pushed past my lashes.

Angel leaned into me, and I grabbed hold of him. Wrapped both my arms around his neck. Buried my face in his cool shoulder.

“Dutch,” Reyes said softly. Soothingly. “I’m fine. I don’t even remember it. I’m not like you. I don’t have every memory from the day I was born.”

But I couldn’t help it. I sobbed, anyway. Angel wasn’t sure what to do, so he patted my head. It was just about the sweetest thing he’d ever done. If not for the fact that I’d been bludgeoned with a blunt object on that very head not once, but twice, I might have enjoyed it.

I tried to get to my feet, to make my way to the man I adored more than caramel apples, but my legs wouldn’t work right.

“It’s okay,” he said, gazing at me through lids swollen almost completely shut. I had a feeling his lopsided grin could be attributed more to facial paralysis than that mischievous charm he carried around like a weapon of mass destruction. “We need to make sure there’s no standoff. We have to stop them from barricading themselves inside. This whole place is one big compound.”

I sniffed and wiped my nose on Angel’s dirty tank. “I’m all ears. Wait!” I said as a plan formed. A good one. “Okay, I’ve got it.”

“Does it involve either of us getting our tongues cut out?”

“How’d you know? Just follow my lead.”

Angel snickered. “I’ve had to do that a few times. It’s scary.”

“Why are people always dissing my plans?”

“They’re almost here,” Angel said.

“Is Uncle Bob with them?”

“Boss, Uncle Bob is leading the cavalry. And he is not happy.”





19

I never make the same mistake twice. I make it like five or six times, you know, just to be sure.





—T-SHIRT


I was beginning to get the feeling back in my legs. The drugs had worked their way through my system and were starting to wear off.

With Angel’s help, I navigated the Diviners and checked on Shawn. He was alive. Then I returned to my earlier position and nodded. “I’m ready.”

Reyes nodded and prepared to release time. “In three…”

“You know they’re wrong about you.”

“Later,” he said, letting his head fall to the ground again. “Two…”

“You aren’t evil.”

“Dutch. Do you want to get hit again?”

“Are you threatening to spank me?” I teased.

He glared. “Them. If you talk … one…”

I whispered to Angel as fast as I could, “Tell me when the cops are close.” Then I looked at Reyes again. At my beautiful, heartbreaking, breathtaking husband. “And they’re wrong.”

“No, Dutch,” he said sadly. “They’re not.”

Time slingshot back into place just as, yep, a hand whipped across my face. At least they were back to hitting me with an open hand.

They picked up exactly where they left off. I waited for Angel to let me know when to move. If Reyes could walk, he could get to the gates and open them while I led them in the opposite direction, not that I had any idea where the gates were. But the car had left tracks in the dirt. That was enough to figure out which way not to go.

One of the men holding Reyes spoke up. “Did you hear that?”

They stopped. Everyone stood still and listened.

“What?” Mr. Foster said.

The man shrugged. “I thought I heard…”

“They’re about two miles away,” Angel said.

While their attention was elsewhere, I shot to my feet and ran. Or, well, stumbled to my feet and did an interpretive dance of autumn leaves dying and falling off a tree.

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