Page 103 of High Water

“At home. I couldn’t make it tonight. Sorry. I’ve got food poisoning or something. I sent one of the guys who I know from the MC over to get her.”

“That wasn’t the deal. You were supposed to pick her up.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to let you down. So I thought this would be the next best thing.”

“Who did you send?” I tap my fingers against my steering wheel, anxious at the idea of some guy I don’t know having my daughter on the back of his motorcycle.

“Casey.”

“Casey? The fucking prospect? You sent a guy who isn’t even patched yet to pick up my daughter?” My temper flares bright fucking red at the idea that someone could just casually make decisions like that. “Who okayed that? Where the fuck is Ledger?”

“I just asked Casey. I didn’t run it up the chain because it seemed simple enough. He was taking her less than half a mile. Didn’t think I needed to bring Ledger in on it.” Elijah tries to explain the inexplicable decision.

“Well, you fucking did. Send me his number.”

“Yes, s—” I don’t let him finish his sentence.

I disconnect the phone and send off a text to Levi while I wait for Elijah to text me the number. The second it pops up, I hit dial. The call goes straight to voicemail.

“Fuck!” I slam my hand against the steering wheel and start the engine, taking off around the corner and heading for the address Fallon gave us for the party.

I pull up to the curb and drop it into park. There are kids spread across the porch, and I can see through the windows well enough to see even more of them inside the craftsman house. The party is still going, and I’m hoping she’s still inside. I scan the street as I walk across it, looking for a motorcycle and any sign of Casey. I know who he is and what he looks like. It’s my job to know who anyone is that comes and goes under the guise of security at the Avarice, but I don’t know him well. The MC guys report to Ledger when it concerns the work they do for Levi, and I trust him to run his own outfit well enough.

A couple of girls spot me crossing the street and ditch their cups, yelling inside to the rest of the party that a parent’s coming up the walk. Fallon will never let me live this down. I’m probably setting the progress of our whole relationship back months by barging in to hunt her down, but I need to know where she is.

“You see Fallon anywhere?”

“Fallon Blackwood? Not recently. I saw her earlier,” the girl answers me.

I open the door, and the group of kids undulates away from me like a school of fish that’s spotted a shark in the water, tightening their circle. I can imagine I look scary right now, given how worried I am.

“Fallon Blackwood. You see her?” I call over the music.

Several of them shake their heads, but one girl pops her head around the corner from the other room.

“Fallon?” she asks.

“Yeah. You seen her?”

“She left a little while ago with some guy on a motorcycle.”

Fuck. I hoped she was still here.

“Did you see what he looked like?” I want to make sure I get any details I can for the search party I’m about to send out with Levi and Ledger’s help.

“Not well. But maybe six-ish feet. Light-brown hair cut short. Black leather jacket.”

“Thanks.” That sounded like a generic description of Casey. As good as I’m gonna get anyway.

“You her dad?” the girl asks.

I don’t bother to answer, making my way back out the door and to my car. I dial Fallon’s number.

It rings. And rings. And rings. Until I finally get her voicemail, the sound of her voice on the recording only makes my chest tighter. I leave a message telling her to call me and fire off a text message. And another. And another.

There’s no answer. No bubble. No dots. Nothing.

Levi’s answered my text though.