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Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hudson
Forty-eight hours later, Ian was scolding him.
“If you don’t stop pacing, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
He knew it didn’t help, but he couldn’t stop. If he stopped pacing, everything would catch up with him and crush him.
Fable over at CCPD hadn’t been any help—they’d gotten no further in the case to track down the bastard formerly known as Judah in the months that Cosima had been living with them. Which hadn’t bothered him all that much before now because the staff at the police department were overworked and understaffed. And what did it really matter when Cosima was safe and happy at home with them? Except she wasn’t anymore and that fucker must’ve been the one who took her. Had to be.
They’d couldn’t file a missing persons report for another twenty-four hours with nothing to point to Cosy leaving against her will. Even then, her disappearance wouldn’t be a priority for CCPD even though Fable said she’d do what she could.
“I can’t stand to sit still. I need to do something, anything, but there’s nothing for me to do. It’s making me crazy.”
“I know. I feel the same way. Being so fucking helpless makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. But that would only break shit, probably including my hand.”
Yeah, Ian was usually the one to destroy things but Hudson wanted to break shit right now. Smash things, make use of these big ham fists of his, make some noise, wreak some havoc.
He reached the end of the hallway and turned back, nearly running into Ryker who was vaulting down the stairs with a laptop dangling from his hand, grey eyes wild.
While Hudson had managed a couple of fitful hours of sleep here and there, he thought Ryker had literally not slept since they’d called and told him Cosy was missing. He looked positively feral with his hair lank and stringy around his face and his normally neat beard unkempt.
“What’s—”
Ryker shoved past him toward the living room where Ian was hunkered down on the couch and tossed his laptop on the table.
“I think I found some bread crumbs.”
* * *
Ian
“You’ve got Hovick.”
“Taj, it’s Ian.”
There was a beat of silence and Ian rolled his eyes. Seriously? He didn’t have time for these fucking games.
“Ian Galbraith?” the man drawled. “It’s been a minute.”
“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry to say this isn’t a social call.”
“Come on, man, I thought you were going to invite me over for a pint of that homebrew Hudson must’ve perfected by now.”
“He has but that’s not the point. We need your help.”
Another pause and Ian could picture his friend’s eyes narrowing, probably as he took his bigass feet off his desk. Taj Hovick was a former Navy SEAL who was now in the personal protection business, had his own shop—Carcharodon Security. Mostly dealt with corporate bigwigs and their families with the odd celeb thrown in the mix. He was based in Clover City but he went wherever his work took him which meant New York, Moscow, Shanghai, London, Rio—wherever the money was.
Ian suspected not all of his business was aboveboard but as long as Taj kept it out of the club he couldn’t say he cared much.
“We? As in you and Ryker and Hudson?”
“Yeah. And I know you and Hud haven’t always gotten along, but this is bigger than not wanting to sit together in the cafeteria, okay? Would you shut the fuck up for a goddamn second and listen to me?”
He’d been trying to keep his cool since he clicked on this contact and now Ian felt like he was hanging onto any pretense of manners by fingernails while he was falling off a cliff. He was scrabbling for purchase but there was every possibility he was gonna fall.
“Whoa, G. Yeah, what’s up?”
