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The dress was understated. Even boring. There was no personability. And Maeve . . . she was perfect. Not a hair out of place. Not a smudge on her face. Or a grin.
“That’s not my Maeve.”
Jesse smirked. “Your Maeve, huh?”
Gray shot him a quelling look.
Jesse raised his hands. “Right. Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“This isn’t the way she normally looks. She’s . . . this doesn’t even look like her.”
His gaze narrowed as he took in the man whose arm she had her hand on. She was leaning into him, looking almost scared. And she was far thinner than she was now.
Thin and pale.
Almost sick.
“So, she knows Jenner Knight,” Gray stated.
“This is them together at some charity dinner about ten months ago,” Jesse told him. “I looked around the news sites at the time and there was a lot of speculation that they were dating.”
Gray tightened his hands into fists at the idea of some other asshole touching her.
She’s mine.
“And?”
“Don’t know. She just seemed to disappear from sight after that, and he’s been seen with several other women in the months since.”
“What did he do?”
“You think he did something?” Jesse asked.
“Had to be him. Wouldn’t be Maeve.”
Jesse whistled. “Dude, you have it bad.”
Gray scowled at him. “Don’t call me that. I don’t have it bad. Maeve is mine.”
“Right, uh, sure, you’ve said that.” Jesse nervously ran his fingers through his hair.
“So, do you have any idea where she is?”
“Well, not for sure. I also hacked into the camera feeds of the closest bus and train stations to where she was staying, and I found this.”
A black and white grainy image came up. Gray sucked in a breath as he watched her move. She was almost shuffling along, hunched over. And when she glanced up, he felt like he’d been sucker punched.
“She looks scared,” Jesse said.
“Is that . . . is that a mark on her face?”
It was difficult to see properly, but it looked like the side of her face was bruised.
Now, the rage racing through his veins was boiling hot.
Who touched his girl?
He was going to mess that fucker up.
