Marcus squawked. “Holy shit, my ear.”
“Alex!”No answer, which was starting to make her nervous.Morenervous. “Okay, let me look around.”
Thank goodness, he wasn’t lying injured anywhere in the house or on the grounds. And wherever he’d ventured, he hadn’t been gone long. When she touched the hood of his car, parked neatly in the garage, the metal was still warm.
So where in the world—
Oh. Oh, she knew exactly where he was. Or at least, she knew what he was doing.
“He’s walking somewhere nearby.” Closing the front door behind her, she squinted into the night. “Either on one of the trails or the secret stairs.”
She hoped the latter, because she didn’t particularly want to trespass onto closed, dark, unfamiliar trails, especially given the panoply of local wildlife Alex had noted.
“Okay.” Marcus let out a slow breath. “Why don’t you wait inside, or by the front—”
“I’ll go find him and call you once I do.” With a swipe and a tap, she activated her cell’s flashlight function. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this handled.”
A very loud groan emitted from the phone’s loudspeakers. “If you get hurt searching for him, Alex will fuckingmurderme.”
“I’ll protect you,” she promised, then promptly hung up on Marcus’s objections.
The motion-sensor lights illuminated overhead as she half walked, half ran to the side gate, which was—
Unlocked and wide open.
Well, he obviouslyhadtaken the secret stairs. He was also due for another lecture about his personal safety, and once she was done begging his forgiveness and throwing herself at his feet, she’d be giving it to him.
Along with her heart, hopefully.
The night was cool, but the steps were numerous and her pace rapid, and she was sweating by the time she reached the top of the Saroyan Stairs. His favorite spot on the mountain, with stars twinkling above, the lights of downtown Hollywood sparkling below, and greenery all around.
At the first sight of him, her knees almost dissolved beneath her.
He was alive and upright, at least, and that was two prayers to the universe answered.
Halfway down the stairs, he sat on one of the benches, arms looped around knees tucked tight to his chest, staring intently up at the velvety, dark sky. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t heard her approach. He certainly didn’t acknowledge her presence.
He was still. A man constantly in motion finally at rest.
Whether that was good or bad, she didn’t know.
When she took the first step down to him, another set of lights illuminated, puncturing his absorption. His head jerked in her direction.
At the sight of her, his lips parted, his eyes going wide.
She kept moving, step by step, allowing the rail to bolster her shaky legs. “Please tell me you’re not injured in any way. Marcus has been frantic, and so have I.”
“I don’t …” His brow creased. “What?”
“You didn’t show up in Malibu, and no one has been able to get in touch with you.” A dozen more steps, and she’d be at his side again. Where she belonged. “Marcus called me. We were worried you were sick or injured.”
“Shit.” His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, his jaw working. “I missed my damn flight, my phone died, and I completely forgot about Malibu.”
Four steps. Three. Two. One.
There he was, within her reach again. She sagged against the rail in bone-deep relief.
Slowly, his body uncurled, and his feet lowered to rest on the stairs. The unflattering light emphasized the shadows beneath his eyes, the shagginess of his hair and beard, the rumpled fabric of that long-sleeved, slate-blue Henley she loved.
