Page 16 of Razor

“If you say so.”

I’m weary of the conversation. I hate words; they get you into all kinds of trouble, and she leans on the desk, her eyes unreadable.

“Sunday was a model student. Everyone liked her. I couldn’t believe what happened.”

I say nothing, and she sighs. “I hope you find her.”

“I will.”

She raises her eyes, and I resist adding, dead or alive, because I’m aware that’s a possibility, and I am trying hard not to deal with that right now.

She glances at her computer screen as something flicks up on it.

“Here it is. The replay from the date she was taken.”

She spins the screen toward me, and my heart freefalls when I notice Sunday smiling at the guy from the football field. He is hitting on her; it’s obvious from his pose and expression, but she isn’t interested. I know her well enough to understand every expression on her sweet face, and her smile is fake, painted on with none of the usual warmth behind it. She is being polite; it’sobvious, and as she hands him her phone and he programs in his number, I stifle my grin.

Typical Sunday. She has no intention of calling him. If she had wanted to, she would have given him her number, and for the first time since arriving here, my heart lightens a little.

She pockets her phone and heads off with an apologetic smile, and part of me hates how genuine she is. She is the kindest woman I know; hell, she took pity on a surly bastard like me, so she deserves a fucking medal.

All the time I keep my eyes on the screen, I’m aware the principal is watching me, and yet I can’t disguise my emotion when the cars pull up behind and in front of her. My fist clenches as a hand reaches out, a door opens blocking her escape, and she is pulled into the car, the door closing almost immediately as they scream out of the parking lot.

“Can you send me the recording?”

“Of course.”

The principal nods. “I just need your number or email.”

I repeat my number and as she forwards the file to me, I can’t shake the heaviness in my heart that hit me as soon as I saw Sunday on the screen.

I miss her so badly it’s a physical ache in my heart, and what happened a few days ago doesn’t give me much hope. Anything could have happened. Is she hurt, frightened, or in danger?

It’s like a knife twisting on repeat in my soul, and I heave a deep breath and barely register the hand that covers mine as I clench my fist on the desk.

“You’ll find her.”

The principal’s eyes are misty and her smile shakes. “I believe in you, Mr.–”

I say nothing, just nod. “Thank you for your assistance, ma’am.”

I stand, every step painful, and as I head out of the door, I can’t witness the sympathy flashing from the principal’s eyes. I don’t deserve her sympathy. I deserve to feel pain for the rest of my miserable life if any harm comes to Sunday because I let her down.

* * *

My businessat the college is done, and as I head back to Satan’s Fury, I struggle to get a grip on my emotions. Seeing Sunday on the screen killed me inside. She is so pretty. So soft, an angel in fact.

I was the happiest I had ever been when she glanced my way with a soft smile. I gave her nothing but my cock in return. No affection, no words of reassurance, just my surly company and the use of my body while I worshipped hers. To this day, I don’t know why she tried so hard with me. I never encouraged her, but I couldn’t keep away.

Sunday was the only light in my dark world and the only person I talked to outside of my twin brother, Blade. They are my world;shewas my world and my mission in life is to bring her home and never stop telling her how much she means to me – or die trying.

* * *

Sultan is sittingon the steps of the clubhouse when I pull up, and I notice the men from the diner flanking him on all sides.

Their expressions are less unwelcoming, and their wounds still evident, and as I slam the car door, they watch my approach with less hostility.

“What have you got for me?”