Page 43 of Bound

“Don’t,” I said urgently. “He’s trying to bait you—”

But he’d already hit send.

Topher: Where’s my brother?

The reply came back almost instantly.

Vlad: Running out of time.

6

Topher

I WAS THIS CLOSE TO HULK-SMASHING MY PHONE.

Forty-eight hours had passed since our vampire incursion out at the quarry. You’d think even if I was persona non grata, West and August would have been able to pull some strings, or even Brody, considering he’d hit the roof once he’d found out we’d been attacked. But it had been radio silence from River and the Council. Cal had been recalled to Dallas on an emergency summons. He couldn’t say how long he’d be gone or why they needed him, but since we all knew he headed up a trauma team made up of social workers and counselors that got called up in the wake of catastrophic events in the shifter community, it was pretty clear something major had gone down.

I couldn’t turn off my phone, not when I could be contacted by Kieran’s kidnappers at any time. Some of the texts were from Vlad wanting to know if we’d reconsidered his offer, or even more annoyingly, letting me know about cool food trailers in Austin we should all check out sometime (after dark, of course), like we were all friends. Or worse, the ones August kept forwarding from Phoenix dickhead Richards insisting for the tenth time that he had no idea who had hacked the pack surveillance systems and that he’d have to get back to us. I wanted to throw my phone off the South Congress bridge and watch it be eaten by a colony of bats.

But maybe the worst were the texts from Caldwell, who’d been avoiding me ever since our kiss on his porch. We’d agreed this thing between us had to stay strictly physical for now. Which didn’t stop the tangle of emotions twisting up my insides every time I thought about us being apart.

Beside me, sandwiched in the cupholder between a crumpled plastic water bottle, my ketchup packet reserves (which Caldwell refused to touch because of course he was one of those one-restaurant-one-fry purists), and the book I’d found on my doorstep this morning, How to Train Your Dragon (smart ass), my phone snarled like a hangry possum that hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours.

Ignoring the incoming text notification, I slowed as one of Blood Moon’s six traffic lights flashed from yellow to red, letting my head flop back against the seat. An hour before sunset and the sky out to the west over the Texas Hill Country was streaked in fiery pinks and radiant tangerine oranges, ablaze with more color than any day had the right to hold.

In one more hour, the sun would set, the last day of August fading to September.

In one more hour, I would have to mark off another day where I’d failed to find my brother.

I gritted my teeth, fighting for the hundredth time to draw the memory of my last conversation with Kieran to the surface. The bar came back into focus in a swirling haze of greasy cheese fries and the hoppy scent of beer. The band up onstage was playing a cover by Aerosmith. Over in the corner, a woman in a black halter top laughed loudly, swirling a glass of wine. Faces turned towards me as I staggered between tables, past a green and white felt dartboard, headed for the bathrooms in back. An ancient pay phone came into focus—

And just like every other time, the memory began to darken around the edges. The headache came on in a rush, thousands of fiery ants teeming beneath my skull, devouring what few details of that night I’d briefly been able to grasp onto. Blinking against the setting sun trying to draw me out of the memory and into the fading day, I closed my eyes.

“C’mon.”

The receiver formed in my hand, cold, heavy plastic that smelled of the thousands of people who’d touched it before me. I held it up to my ear—

And heard nothing.

“Because it was out of order.”

My heart kicked in my chest. This was the part of the memory that never made sense. I wouldn’t have gone back there expecting to find a pay phone, much less one that still worked. This wasn’t 1980. Hell, when was the last time I even carried change? So what had led me back there? But I’d still made the call. Kieran and I had talked. I was sure of it.

The truck behind me laid on its horn, and I blinked to see the light had turned green. Accelerating through the intersection, I clawed for missing fragments of the memory. A shadow. Someone handing me a phone? Cal and I had been working to reconstruct this memory in our sessions for nearly a year. Hypnosis. Guided journaling. EMDR. Why couldn’t I fracking remember?

Beside me in the cupholder, my phone hissed again, even angrier, if that was possible. Snatching it up, I swiped the screen.

West: Death wish? No. Don’t answer that. Brody is going to have my ass when he finds out I’ve been covering for you.

Topher: Be outside in two minutes. I’m driving.

West: You drive like a vampire on meth.

Topher: Hence the reason our team might actually stand a chance at winning for the first time ever this year.

West: We’re not taking Cedric.

Topher: As I’m pretty sure you had one of those driver’s ed brakes secretly installed on the passenger side last week, I’m totally on board with that. Find your walker, grandpa. I’m nearly there.