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"Okay. Let me call Pick, then. I'll call Pick, and you guys can talk." He could fix this. He knew how to deal with irrational women, this one specifically. He could get Julian back.
Indecision crossed her face. But after a moment, she gave a jerky nod. "Okay .
. . okay."
It felt like the biggest gamble of my life, stepping away from the door, but I did it, my legs shaking the entire way. I scooped up Skylar, held her close and sat next to the landline phone. Three finger-shaking attempts later, I was shot straight to Pick's voice mail. My stomach roiled with unease. I left a message, and tried the club next. No answer. So I tried Mason, hoping he might be working tonight too.
Another no-fucking-answer.
Next, I rang Reese. She picked up in four rings. "Please," I sobbed. "I need you."
PICK
It was long, dragging, obnoxiously loud night at Forbidden. Hamilton had the bar with me. He worked with quiet efficiency, so we easily filled our orders. The loud music from the jukebox, and the women dancing with all the men chasing after them was starting to give me a headache. Same damn thing every night. I just wanted to get home to my Tinker Bell and curl up around her, and maybe finally get inside her again. It'd been too long since we'd last done that. Skylar was feeling better, so maybe—
When I saw a familiar face weaving through the crowd, looking intent to worm her way through, I frowned and moved toward Reese just as she reached the bar.
"What're you doing here? Lowe's not working tonight."
"I know." Her blue eyes were large and bright as she grabbed my arm hard. "You need to get home. Right now. Mason's on his way to fill in for you."
The urgency in her voice, the fear in her eyes—I barely waved Quinn off before I was leaping over the bar and sprinting toward the exit.
I made it home in record time. I didn't realize Reese had followed me until I found her at my heels, pounding up the stairs to my apartment.
I shoved the door open as soon as I reached it. Eva paced inside the living room, clutching Skylar to her chest. For a moment, I was relieved to find her unharmed. Then I noticed how heavily she cried in great, heaving sobs. Her eyes were swollen and red, her hair a mess, her face as pale as chalk.
"What's wrong?" I crossed to her and clutched her shoulders in my hands, prepared to kill whoever had upset her. Had Skylar taken a turn for the worst? Or her father—
"He's gone," she wailed. "Oh, God. Oh, God."
"Who . . . ?" I glanced around, realizing Julian wasn't anywhere in the front room. When I turned back, the devastation on her face made my skin prickle with a new kind of horror. "Where's Fighter?"
Squeezing her eyes closed, she choked on a sob and bent forward, crying even harder. "She took him. She came in here and just . . . she took him."
"What? Who?" I shook her, needing her to focus. "Damn it, Tink. What the hell happened?"
"Tristy. She took him."
My fingers tightened reflectively. For a second, I was too scared to speak. Then I roared, "And you just let her?"
She yanked out of my hold and glared up at me, her tears making her blue eyes glitter with an ethereal kind of fury. "Yes, Pick, I just stepped aside and blithely let her stroll in here and take him out without a single word of protest. Fuck you! Of course, I didn't just let her."
She turned away and sought comfort from Reese, who immediately gathered both her and Skylar in a hug. It hurt to watch her seek solace from somebody else, making me realize how harsh I'd been.
Cursing fluidly, I clutched my hair and squeezed my eyes closed. I knew I should apologize, but Julian was gone and I couldn't get past that.
"What happened?"
Since my voice was calmer, she straightened from Reese's shoulder and pushed the tears out of her eyes. "The neighbors called the cops. She and I had yelled at each other and—"
"Yeah, yeah." I waved my hand, irritated. I knew how easy it was to get the police to our place. "What did they do?"
She shook her head, blindly. "They let her take him. What do you think they did? She's his mother. I had no legal right to keep him here. I even told them I'd never met her before in my life and had no proof she was really his mother. But then she supplied proof. I tried to tell them she'd left him months ago; she was unfit. Then they asked about you. I told them you were working, but I couldn't get a hold of you . . . I tried everything. I'm so sorry, Pick." She turned back to Reese, weeping solidly. "I'm so sorry."
"It's—" I wanted to tell her it was okay. I even reached out to touch her back, but I ended up pulling my hand away so I could rub my face instead, unable to get past the fact that my son was out there, with a druggie, doing God knows what. "Jesus. I gotta find them. I gotta . . . " I spun in a circle trying to think. I glanced at the girls, and met Reese's gaze, her eyes brimming with concern. "I'm gonna go find them."
I was out the door and running for the stairs before I fully collected my next breath.
