Page 124 of Jonas

“How’s everything going there?” Easton asked.

“It’s been twenty-five minutes. I’m coming out of my skin.”

“Know the feeling, brother.”

I bet he fucking did. Before Nebraska joined Z Corps, she was a negotiator. Not in a boardroom but in the felonious underbelly of society. She, like her mother, negotiated deals between criminals in an effort to keep their illegal activities from spilling over and hurting innocent people. Now, she still operated, just with a team, and her man at her back.

“I don’t know how you do it,” I told him. “My gut is screaming at me to go in there. I can’t shake this feeling.”

“What feeling?”

“That shit is going to go sideways and she’ll be taken from me.”

I glanced down at my phone.

No response.

I was giving this five more minutes. If Derrika hadn’t broken Natalie by now, she wasn’t going to.

“She’s it for you, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s everything I never knew I needed, but now that I have it, I can’t for the life of me figure out how I didn’t know. When this shit is over, I’m taking time off work, locking up in my house, and using that time to convince her to move her shit down from Virginia. Once I accomplish that, I’m convincing her to marry me. Then I’m planting babies in her and never letting her go.” I thought about our lack of condom use and amended. “Or I might plant my babies in her first, and the rest will work out.”

“Glad to hear it, brother.”

Two more people walked out of the pub. I checked my phone again, regretting letting her go in alone. At the very least, I should’ve gone in and sat across the restaurant.

Fuck it.

“I’m going in and getting a table. In the last twenty minutes, I think I’ve developed an ulcer.”

“Know that feeling, too. Keep me updated.”

“I will.”

I disconnected, grabbed the keys, and jumped out of the SUV.

Each step closer to the restaurant was a painful stab to my chest.

I opened the front door, stepped inside, and before I even scanned the interior, I knew. The feel of the restaurant was all wrong.

Fuck.

I pulled out my phone, hit Easton’s name. I impatiently waited for the call to connect, with my heart slamming into my ribs.

I ended the call and hit send again.

Nothing.

No bars.

Motherfucking shit.

I ran out onto the sidewalk, still no bars. It wasn’t until I was back across the street that I had service.

The call connected, and I immediately interrupted Easton’s greeting.

“She’s gone. And they used a cellphone jammer.”