Page 146 of Unseen Danger
And she couldn’t stop him.
He landed on her with his full body weight. Crushing, pinning her beneath him.
She couldn’t tell what was memory and what was real.
But the horrible truth pulsing through her was real. Even Branson couldn’t save her this time.
She was powerless against the monster.
He was going to kill her in the worst way she could imagine.
“That’s good enough, thanks.” Branson resisted the urge to push the EMT’s hand away from the back of his head and stood instead. He turned to give a forced smile to the woman.
“You really should see a doctor. You probably need stiches.”
Branson snatched his phone off the round table in the reception hall populated by the Phoenix K-9 team and spouses, the couple police officers who’d come in response to the abduction report Bristol had called in, and the two EMTs. “I’ll do that as soon as I can. Thanks.”
The EMT looked at the guy working with her and sighed. Probably used to difficult patients.
But Branson had a good reason not to care about his own health at the moment.
He tapped D-Chop’s phone number for the tenth time in the last thirty minutes and held the device to his ear as he stalked toward the lobby.
The rapper’s generic, computerized voicemail message answered. Again.
Branson groaned and lowered the phone. D-Chop had probably turned off his phone or left it somewhere like he usually did when he was busy with a new girlfriend.
Which was why Branson had called Louis. He’d filled Louis in on what had happened to Nevaeh and told him to get D-Chop to call him. But that was ten minutes ago. Still nothing.
Branson pocketed his phone as he marched across the empty lobby and stopped by the glass doors.
Was the fog thinning? Yes. He could see a little farther, more of the concrete walkway outside the door.
Phoenix had cited the fog as the reason for stopping Branson from rushing out earlier to take his pickup and canvas the area for any signs of the mud-splattered Ram the women had ID’d from before. They deduced now the truck had to be Walter’s. And he’d been watching Nevaeh all along. Ever since the PowerSource Center fire.
Branson gripped the long push bar on the door. How could he have failed to protect her?
Protecting people was his goal in life, ever since the shooter came to his church when he was a kid. He’d spent years training and working to be the kind of man who would always be able to beat the bad guys and keep them from hurting others. And now his whole career was dedicated to protecting people from brutal criminals like Walter Johnson.
Branson shoved the door open and stepped outside. He could see the nearest pillar of the carport now. If the fog kept thinning, he could have a chance to find something, to see where Johnson may have taken Nevaeh.
Who was he kidding? Despair surged up his throat, threatening to choke him.
As hard as he’d tried, he was obviously nowhere near the hero Andrew Allen was.
Branson couldn’t even protect the woman he loved. The woman he’d promised he would keep safe, especially from the monster who had her now.
She’d trusted him. But he couldn’t even protect her from one man.
What was the monster doing to her now?
Branson closed his eyes against the terrible possibilities that swirled in his mind. A tremor quaked through his body. Not from the cold, but from the horror of what he’d let happen on his watch.
If anything happened to Nevaeh…
He walked to the pillar and squeezed it between his palms, half-wishing it were his own neck. How could he live with himself if that monster hurt her…if he…killed her?
Branson’s breath stuck in his chest.