He met Cass in the hallway, her brow furrowed, and a look of worry on her face. A look he’d seen a few times when something bad had happened—like when Isaac went missing. Or when Irish had gone missing.
His stomach churned, and the hairs on the back of his neck started to tingle and rise.
Jag blew out a breath, attempting to quell his thoughts from heading down the danger highway.
“Cass, everything okay?”
“Jag, I was coming to look for you.” If it wasn’t for the expression on her face, he would think everything was fine with how relaxed she sounded.
He didn’t trust it though. Something was wrong, because he swore he could now see traces of sympathy in her eyes.
“Steff’s earrings have stopped transmitting.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Well, that was a waste of time,”Steff muttered as she walked out of her therapist’s building into the bright sunlight. She squinted as she rummaged around her bag for her sunglasses.
The receptionist had been insistent that Steff had phoned and cancelled her appointment. She knew for a fact that she hadn’t. She wouldn’t, not after all the progress she was making with the sessions.
She enjoyed coming to see Donelle now. What the receptionist said didn’t make sense. Of course, her appointment time had been given to someone else, so all Steff could do was make another appointment for next week.
At least she could see Cynthia earlier and extend their shopping time together.
“I need to get a smaller bag,” she muttered once she found her sunglasses and popped them on, blinking in surprise when she saw who was standing in front of her. “Cynthia! I was about to call you. There was a mess up with my session.”
“I know,” she snapped, her eyes darting left and right as though she was looking for something. Or someone.
Steff gripped her bag a little tighter, concern for her friend mounting. “Are you okay? You look a little frazzled.”
“I’m fine. Great in fact. Come on, let’s go.” Cynthia grabbed her arm in a tight grip.
“Cyn? What’s going on?”
“You’re being followed,” she said quickly, and hurried them down the street.
“What?” Steff looked over her shoulder to see if Cynthia was right. She couldn’t see anything.
“Stop looking,” she hissed, and tugged on Steff’s arm, picking up her pace. Steff was almost running, fear building inside her.
She should call Dalton. Let him know. He’d tell her to find somewhere safe where they could hide until he could come and get them. He’d let Fox know as well. All she had to do was remain calm, thankful that Cynthia had been there.
It seemed a little strange that she was waiting for her, but Steff didn’t worry about the ‘whys’, she was there, she was just grateful she was.
Cynthia yanked them around the corner into an alley. The stench of rotting garbage almost had Steff gagging. She was pushed against the wall, her head banging against the bricks. She opened her mouth to ask why Cynthia was being so rough, when her friend’s hand covered her mouth, cutting the words off.
This close, she could see the manic look in Cynthia’s eyes, and it concerned her. She’d never seen her friend look this way.
Was Cynthia having a PTSD episode?
Is that why she thought Steff was being followed?
Is this whatshelooked like when she was in the middle of one?
A little of her fear dissipated. All she needed to do was try and calm her friend, like the way Dalton always calmed her and gently pulled her out of the tunnel she’d sunk into.
“Give me your earrings.”
“What?” Her response was muffled behind Cynthia’s hand. Reflexively, she moved to touch the earrings, the ones she’d given Dalton so much grief regarding wearing them. She hadn’t taken them out since she first put them in.
