“It’s mine to ruin.”
He fell silent again and watched as I continued my game. I wondered if I’d feel anything if I accidentally stabbed myself with the hairpin. Maybe the blood would distract me from the all- consuming anguish.
The door to the library opened and Ash strode in with a plate of food.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded over the sound of the hairpin sticking in wood.
“Living dangerously.”
She stomped toward the desk and set the plate down. “Eat. And then shower and shave. You look like hell, and you smell like a distillery.” Ash glared at her husband. “Fix this. He’s Flynn Campbell for shit’s sake.”
Ash marched from the room.
“She’s right,” Duncan said, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “The Flynn I know wouldn’t be sitting around in two-day old clothes, stubble on his face, reeking of scotch and seething humiliation. If you don’t get your shite together and go after her, then you don’t deserve her.”
“I don’t even know where she is.” I growled. “I know she left of her own accord.” I’d confirmed it with Tony, my head of security of the estate.
Duncan walked to the front of the desk and slid my cell phone toward me. “I’m still convinced he’ll know where she is. What do you want, Flynn? Your pride? Or your wife back?”
He didn’t wait for me to reply. Duncan walked to the door, and then stopped and turned to me and smiled. “You can eat that if you want, but be warned, Ash’s cooking leaves a lot to be desired.”
“I heard that!” she yelled from the hallway.
“I meant you to, love!” Duncan called back.
He left.
And I found my first smile in days.
Barrett was hurting. I needed to find her so I could make it better. She was the rudder of our family’s ship, and without her, we’d all drown in this storm.
I picked up my cell phone, pressed a few buttons to unlock it, and then opened my contacts list. I touched the screen and put the phone to my ear.
He came on the line after one ring. “Campbell.”
“Petrovich.” I inhaled a deep breath. “I need your help.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. No doubt I had shocked him into silence.
After a long moment, he finally said, “You never ask for my help. You hate asking for my help.”
“I’m asking under extreme duress. Please don’t make me feel worse about it.”
“Is it Hawk?” he demanded. “Iain? Noah? I’ll get on a plane—”
“It’s Barrett,” I gritted out.
“Barrett?” he repeated slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “What’s wrong with Barrett?”
“She’s gone. Left a few days ago. Hasn’t checked in.” I paused. “It was the anniversary of Dolinsky’s death.”
“Da.I know the day. I never forget the day, though I try to.”
“How do you get through the day?” I inquired.
“Drink, fight, fuck.”
I thought of the years past, trying to remember how Barrett handled the anniversary of Dolinsky’s death. But it all ran together, and when the bairns were younger and needed her close, she was never far from them. Were there times that she snuck away, just for a few hours, reconciling the past? Or trying to bury it?
