“Ramie!” he yelled as he ran down the hall, throwing open every single door in an effort to locate her. Where the hell was everyone?

His blood ran cold when he saw the back door was ajar. He sprinted over, shoving the door open wider, and his gaze fell over the second dead body.

A chill slithered up his spine, a sense of foreboding so strong within him that it paralyzed him. He stared numbly at the dead man. A hole was punched through his forehead. His eyes were glassy with death and the back of his head had been blown off by the bullet.

He leaned over and vomited on the patio. His stomach clenched viciously, curling into knots, forcing more of the contents of his stomach out onto the ground.

He had to find Ramie. He had to call someone for help. He couldn’t remember what had happened here. Shouldn’t he know what occurred? Ramie couldn’t have disappeared and two men killed without him knowing, could they?

He stumbled back into the nightmare of the bedroom and stared at the blood-covered bed. Then he reached for the phone, his fingers shaking when he punched in Beau’s number. Tori, Quinn and Beau had to be all right. Maybe Beau would know where Ramie was and what awful thing had struck here.

“Caleb, where the hell are you?” Beau barked into the phone after the first ring.

“At the safe house,” Caleb said faintly. “Something terrible has happened, Beau. Is Ramie with you?”

“Don’t move,” Beau said curtly. “Don’t touch anything. You understand me? We’ll be there in three minutes.”

Caleb frowned at the disconnected phone in confusion. He was missing something vitally important, but what? Why couldn’t he remember anything of the night before?

Mindful of his brother’s command not to touch anything, Caleb walked to the front door of the house, stepping outside into the bright wash of sun. He squinted and then shielded his face from the sun with one hand. And then he stared transfixed at the dried blood that covered his outstretched hand.

Two vehicles screeched to a stop in front of the house. Beau was out and running from one while Dane and Eliza jumped from the other and bore down on him, their expressions grim and . . . ​furious.

“Get down!” Dane barked, drawing his weapon and pointing it at Caleb. “On the ground!”

Caleb stared at Dane in bewilderment. Was he serious? Had the whole world gone mad?

“Jesus, Caleb,” Beau said, his face pale as he stared back at Caleb. “What have you done?”

“Make sure he isn’t armed,” Eliza said from a distance, her own weapon drawn and trained on Caleb.

He was starting to get pissed.

“Someone want to tell me what the f**k is going on?” Caleb erupted. “Where’s Ramie? And why the hell are you pointing your goddamn guns at me? Where is she?”

“That’s what we want to ask you, Caleb,” Dane said in an even tone.

Caleb narrowed his eyes impatiently. “Ask me what?”

“Where Ramie is,” Eliza said. “Tell us what you did with her, Caleb. Tell us now before the police get here and we can’t help you anymore.”

He shook his head in confusion. Then he stared down at his hands, as if for the first time realizing that he was covered in blood. He began to shake convulsively, his vision blurring with tears.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice cracking. “God, I don’t know. What have I done?”

Eliza dipped her head at Dane, who quickly closed in on Caleb while Eliza hung back, her gun trained.

“On your knees,” Dane commanded.

Numbly Caleb slid to his knees.

“Hands behind your head.”

Slowly Caleb laced his fingers together at the back of his head. He flinched when the cool metal handcuffs surrounded his wrists, clicking into place. He lifted his gaze to his brother, who stood there staring at him, tears in his eyes.

Beau looked . . . ​devastated.

“Let’s go,” Dane said, pushing Caleb to his feet. “Get in the car.”

Eliza opened the backseat door and Dane unceremoniously stuffed Caleb inside while Beau got back into the vehicle he’d been driving. Dane and Eliza slid into the front seat of the vehicle he was riding in and slammed the doors.

Dane peeled away, causing Caleb to bump his head on the window before righting himself.

“Damn it, Caleb. You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Eliza said in disgust.

“What am I supposed to say?” Caleb asked wearily, some of the shock finally wearing off. Anger was quickly replacing his bewilderment but at the same time, dread gripped him by the balls, squeezing the very life out of him. “I wake up to find Ramie gone, blood covering the bed where she slept. Two men supposed to be guarding the house are dead. I can only assume the third one is as well. It seems to me that you need to be the ones talking and fast,” he snapped.

Eliza turned sharply in her seat, her brows furrowed as she stared hard at Caleb.

“What do you last remember doing before you woke up?” she asked.

Caleb was silent a moment as he thought back through the night before.

“Ramie and I went to bed early. We were both tired. And then I woke up a few minutes ago and Ramie was gone and blood was everywhere.”

“Jesus,” Eliza muttered. “Could he really not know?”

“Maybe he blocked it out,” Dane said, his jaw ticking with fury. “I know I sure as hell would if I’d done that to an innocent woman.”

A prickle of unease skated down Caleb’s spine. An elusive memory taunted him, so close and yet out of reach. Why did his head hurt so goddamn bad? Had he been drugged?