The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Chapter 247: ANGUISH

Abigail

The parking garage was still thick with tension after the smoke cleared. Finnegan held me tightly against his chest, one arm wrapped around my waist like he was afraid I might disappear.

His heart was pounding as hard as mine. The police had arrived in force, sirens flashing, but Devin was already gone with his wounded leg, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

That asshole, I thought, watching the policemen bag the gun I had snatched from him. Annette would have my head if she ever found out what happened this morning.

I was still shaking. The phantom pressure of the gun against my temple refused to leave my skin.

Finnegan’s hand moved across my back in slow, soothing circles while the detective in charge approached us, his face grim. "We’re tracking every pharmacy and hospital within a fifty-mile radius. Stakeouts will be set up. You did a good job, Miss Kellerman. A very brave one too. If he seeks treatment for that knee, we’ll know."

Finnegan’s jaw tightened. "I want him found. Things could have gone very bad. Your men should have eyes on him!"

"Finn, it’s fine."

"No," he replied curtly, his green eyes flooded with worry. "No it’s not fine. It’s not fine, Abigail." He turned to the police, brow arched.

"Are we done here?"

"Yes, Mr Wolfe."

Without another word, I was whisked to the car and Finnegan drove home immediately.

The days that followed were a blur of heightened security and restless waiting.

Finnegan barely let me out of his sight. The police continued their search, but Devin had seemingly vanished into thin air. No hits on pharmacies, no hospital admissions, no sightings of him at all. It was as if the earth had swallowed him whole.

His mother was silent too for the first few days before she called Finnegan one evening as we were heading back from work.

I was seated in the backseat next to him, lazily working the buttons of his shirt. The partition between us and James was rolled up.

My hand had just slipped beneath his shirt when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression darkened.

"It’s her," he muttered.

He answered on speaker so I could hear.

"You unfilial son," Gina spat coldly.

"You would betray your own mother and drag the family name through the mud for that little whore? I raised you. I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me? By turning the police on your own brother?"

Finnegan’s grip tightened around the phone. "You tried to destroy me. You tried to kill the woman I love. You don’t get to play the victim, Mother."

Gina laughed bitterly. "You think you’ve won? You’ve only made things worse for yourself. Devin is blood. He is my son. I will not let you destroy him."

The call cut off. Finnegan tossed the phone aside and pulled me into his arms. "She’s panicking. That’s good. It means we’re getting closer."

I nodded against his chest, but the unease coiled in my gut refused to loosen. Everything so far only confirmed how unhinged Gina Wolfe truly was. She had to be sheltering Devin somewhere, nursing him back to health herself.

But the police had already searched her home. So how was she hiding him? It gnawed at me endlessly.

We knew it was them — they were behind my parents’ deaths — and yet pinning them down felt impossible because both of them were as slippery as they were ruthless. How much longer would this go on?

The fight was beginning to wear me down to the bone. Two days later, Finnegan and I took Angel out for a day at the beach. She was due back at school in a week.

Angel was chattering happily in the backseat between us about a new book she wanted, weaving her fingers through mine.

For a moment, it felt almost peaceful. Then the truck came out of nowhere. A deafening crash exploded on the driver’s side. Metal shrieked as the massive vehicle slammed into us with brutal force.

The SUV lurched violently, tires screaming in protest. Glass shattered in a storm of sharp fragments. I heard Angel scream — a high, piercing sound that cut straight through me.

Time slowed.

I spotted another vehicle moving to pin us against the barrier. Without thinking, I threw my body over Angel’s, wrapping myself around her small frame. My arms locked tight around her, pressing her head against my chest.

"Abigail!" Finnegan roared, reaching desperately for us and pulling us against him.

The second crash hit like a thunderclap.

The world tilted. The SUV rolled violently, metal groaning and buckling. Glass rained down like deadly confetti. Pain detonated through my side and shoulder as I was hurled against the door and then the ceiling.

The seatbelt bit savagely into my body, but I refused to release Angel. I could feel her trembling beneath me, her small hands fisting my shirt.

The car finally slammed to a stop on its side. The ringing in my ears was deafening. Smoke and the acrid stench of burning rubber filled the air. My vision swam with black spots. Warm blood trickled down my temple and side.

"Abigail, Abigail—" The voices sounded like they were coming from very far away. A terrible high-pitched ringing drowned everything out.

"Angel..." I rasped, my body rapidly going numb. I fought to keep my eyes open.

A massive hole gaped in the roof of the car above me. Someone was pulling a screaming girl through it.

"Angel!" I cried, vision sharpening for just a second. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I’m fine," she sobbed, stretching a hand down toward me. "Abigail, you’re bleeding everywhere. Abby!"

"I’m okay," I lied, pain lancing through my ribs with every breath.

Finnegan was tearing through the wreckage toward me, his face ashen with terror, blood streaking his forehead. "No, no, no-"

"Hey. I’m... okay," I murmured weakly, wishing I could reach for him. The anguish in his green eyes was the last thing I saw before the darkness took me.