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No such luck.
My phone rings, and I groan at being interrupted.
It’s Jack.
“Hello?”
“Sebastian,” Jack greets. “How are things?”
He calls every week, checking in, and each time it unnerves me. It makes me wonder if his security team is attempting to pinpoint our location. I try to keep our conversations short just in case.
“Things are well. President yet?”
He chuckles. “Don’t I wish. Clove? Is she okay? She’s not mad at me, is she? I can’t get her to respond to my texts.”
Because we turned off her phone to keep her safe.
“Clove is fine. We take care of her,” I assure him.
“Good,” he breathes as though he’s relieved. His sincerity is deceiving.
“Jack,” a feminine voice calls out. “Your web interview is in ten minutes. We need to get you ready.”
“Of course, Marjorie. Give me a minute,” he says to her. Once she’s gone, he lets out a sigh. “Women.”
I grunt. “If that’s all, I need to get off here and take care of something important.” Your daughter. I need to fuck an apology into her.
“No, that’s fine. Do your job. Her safety is my primary concern. Please have her call me, though. I miss her.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I grumble. “Goodbye, Jack.”
We hang up and I stalk out of my office on a mission. I hear the shower going in the master and I wonder if I should just bombard her shower to calm her down. In the end, I decide not to. Instead, I walk into the dining room to find Ford cleaning the guns from Leo and Clove’s shooting practice.
“Rach and Seth leave?” I ask, dropping down into the seat across from him.
“Yeah, Zac took them back just a minute ago.” He frowns. “Clove knows. Leo went to talk to her.”
I help him clean the guns and we fall into a broody silence for the next twenty minutes. There’s no screaming or crying coming from the master, so Leo must be calming her down. It’s better for Leo to talk to her until I can explain better. He always gets through to her in a way no one else can.
The front door opens and Zac walks inside, frowning. “Where’d Leo go? Was she that mad?”
“What?” I ask him in confusion.
Ford straightens. “Leo’s showering with Clove.”
Zac sprints off toward the back of the house. My hackles rise and my chair scrapes across the tiles as I go after him.
“What the hell?” I demand, trailing after him.
Zac storms into the bedroom. Leo sits on the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist and his phone pressed to his ear. Zac rushes into the bathroom and then roars with fury just as Ford flies into the room.
“Tahoe’s gone,” Ford barks out. “Where’s Lucky?”
Leo hangs up on his call and stands up. “She was in your office with you,” he snaps. “Rach said you two were talking.”
“For five minutes,” I hiss. “Where the fuck did she go?”
Zac exits the bathroom and his jaw clenches. “She left. She took the Tahoe and fucking left.”
Ford jerks open the end table and then kicks it shut. “Her purse is gone. Fuck. Seb, she left!”
“Call Rach,” I order, “we need her car.”
Zac is already pulling up his phone app. “Tracker shows she’s twenty-five miles from here. Goddammit. She’s hauling ass too. The weather is turning shitty. I was just out there.”
Panic makes my heart stutter. This is all my fucking fault.
“Stay here,” I bark at Zac. “Find out what you can. Ford and I will follow her. Have Rach have her car ready. Rach’s dumbass ex is hanging around, so make sure you have eyes on her just in case. We’ll find Clove.”
“What do I do?” Leo demands.
“Put some fucking clothes on and try to get Clove on the phone.”
Ford and I dart out of the room, yanking our coats off the rack along the way. We rush outside into the blistery cold. Pellets of ice sting my face. Rach’s pussy-ass little Chevy Malibu will be a bitch to drive if the weather gets worse. Thank fuck the Tahoe is outfitted with good tires and four-wheel drive.
We waste a precious ten minutes running up the drive to Rach’s trailer. Luckily, she’s waiting with the keys in hand.
“Be careful,” she calls out after me. “Please be careful.”
“I will,” I grumble as I yank the car door open. “Zac and Leo are nearby if Joey shows up.”
I squeeze into her tiny ass car and turn over the engine. Seconds later, we’re cruising down the drive and then onto the main road. Ford now has the tracker app open on his phone. He points me east. We drive down the dark highway as the sleet turns into snow. The Malibu slides a bit on corners, but I’m able to keep it on the road. For nearly thirty minutes we drive until we pull into a motel.
