Lost Girl: Hidden Book One Read Online Free

and I kicked the gun behind me, under the car. I could feel blood dripping down my leg from where I’d been shot. I walked over to him, and he shook off enough of my influence to react. He got a hold of the ends of my hair, and yanked. I sprayed the pepper spray, then punched him in the face, hard. A wet sound, and then he dropped to the ground, whimpering.
    “Yeah, big, tough man, kidnapping your ex,” I muttered. “You know, it’s pieces of shit like you that make it so I can never take a fucking vacation.” He started to stand up, but not quickly enough. I used the crowbar to knock him out, then bound his hands and feet with zip ties, and put some duct tape over his mouth. “Every damn day, I’m out here chasing one of you assholes down, you know that? Every. Damn. Day.” Once he was secure, I went back to the car and jammed the crowbar into the trunk, forcing it open.
    The woman inside, Teresa,  was tiny and scared to death, hands and feet bound with duct tape. A scarf or something was tied around her mouth. She was crying, and I started working at the gag so she could talk. She had been in there for a few days. The odor was awful. I wanted to hit Brandon a few more times. Forced back a snarl.
    “Calm down,” I ordered, gently, just a little power in my voice.
    “It’s you. The Angel,” the woman finally said, still crying.
    I grimaced. Of all the monikers the media could have given me… “Do you need a doctor?” I asked.
    The woman shook her head. She looked toward Brandon. “Is he dead?” she whispered.
    “No. Just unconscious. For now.”
    “I wish he was,” the woman said, staring at him. I was tempted to hand her the crowbar.
    “I’m sure. I’m about to call the police to come pick him up. Do you have a way to get out of here?”
    “That’s my car,” she said, pointing at the Taurus. “Brandon took the keys when he grabbed me.”
    I went over to the unconscious man and dug through his pockets, coming up with some condoms, a pack of cigarettes, and the car keys. I tossed them to Teresa, then rolled Brandon out of the way.
    Teresa watched me. “I’ll go to the police about him. I’ll tell them where he is, and what happened,” she said.
    “They might not believe you,” I said. “They might think you did this,” I gestured at Brandon.
    “Nah. I have the rope burns and bruises to prove it. And everyone knows you find lost girls,” she said, smiling. “Thank you so much,” she said, and started crying again.
    I just nodded. Uncomfortable. “Okay. You should get going,” I said. Teresa nodded, then climbed into the car. I watched her drive into the night, gave the unconscious Brandon a kick for good measure, then headed down the street. Exhaustion had officially set in, and I had to work in the morning.
    I walked back to my car, stumbling a little. I could feel my leg burning where I’d been shot. It wasn’t bleeding as much anymore, though. I got in and tore through the streets toward home.
    When I got there,  I scratched Kurt and Courtney behind the ears, then headed into the house. I went to my office first, faced the two large bulletin boards on the wall. Moved the photos of Shanti, Amber, Maria, and Teresa from the “lost” board to the “found.” I placed the pushpins precisely into the corners of each photo, ran my fingertips over each one. I inspected the wall again. The “lost” board was full. The ”found” board was filling up. And the third board, the one for girls I’d been too late for… that one had more pictures on it than it should have. I looked at their faces, the ones I’d been too slow to save, thought their names like a litany.
    I looked back to the “lost” board. Shook my head. Feeling helpless now wouldn’t help them.
    I limped down to the kitchen to get something to eat. I made a peanut butter sandwich and took it into the living room, flicked on a lamp and the television.
    The local station interrupted Letterman with a news flash. A