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“Monique.” The name burns my tongue like battery acid, and I give Dante a look filled with apprehension. “D. Joey’s at her house.”
Taking a deep breath, he checks his watch. “She should be almost home by now.”
Stepping to the side, I dial her number while Dante helps Toby up and smooths things over. Her phone goes straight to voicemail and my heart rate kicks up a few gears. I dial Ash next and his phone rings out and now my blood is thundering so fast around my body I sway on my feet. I can’t fucking breathe. When Ash’s phone goes to voicemail, I can barely see straight for the pounding in my head and adrenaline thundering around my body.
“Joey and Ash didn’t answer, D.”
“Call Henry.”
I dial Henry’s number, and it rings and rings until voicemail kicks in. Dante stares at me like I have the answers to the meaning of life. I shake my head, and the pain on his face makes me want to puke my guts up. Holy fucking fuck. We dropped the ball.
“Let’s go,” he orders, and the two of us race back to his car, leaving Michael and Toby standing on their doorstep.
Tires spin, spitting gravel as Dante guns the engine and heads toward Monique’s house. “I never should’ve let her got to that fucking party, D.”
“Try their numbers again,” he barks.
I call each of them again and the response is the same. “Drive faster,” I snap at him when he slows down for a red light.
“You think I’m not as fucking terrified as you are, Max? I’m driving as fast as I fucking can,” he shouts at me.
“She’s my whole fucking world, D. If anything happens to her—if I let something happen to her because I was too focused on Vito and Kristin—” I can’t finish the sentence.
“We’re going to fucking get her,” he insists. “We’ll speak to Monique, and she’s gonna tell us Joey is drunk on cocktails and wouldn’t get out of the pool. It’s going to be okay.”
Despite knowing Henry and Ash would never miss a call from me, I cling to his words, trying to convince myself that my girl is perfectly safe and that I haven’t let her down in the worst possible way.
“There’s Henry’s car.” Dante nods at the black sedan in Monique’s driveway. “Maybe they’re all inside?”
But as we draw closer, I see the figure of Henry slumped over the steering wheel and my heart almost bursts through my ribcage. My lungs stop being able to take in air and my stomach twists into such a tight knot that I think I’m going to throw up all my internal organs. My door is open before Dante brings the car to a grinding stop. Scrambling out as quickly as possible, I run toward Henry’s car. The driver’s side window is open, and even before I pull Henry’s head back, I see and smell blood. The blood spatter is consistent with a sliced jugular, which is confirmed when I place my palm on his forehead and the gaping wound grins back at me.
Henry Jones was a good man and an experienced soldier. This wasn’t the work of an amateur. Straightening, I take deep breaths. I need to hold it together. I’ll be no good to Joey if I fall apart. “He’s dead, D.”
“Fuck! Henry.” Dante nudges me out of the way and leans forward to close Henry’s eyes.
With a nod, Dante follows me to the front door of the house. Not bothering to knock, I draw my gun and shoot through the lock. Silence greets us.
“Joey?” I shout.
As expected, there’s no answer. Because she’s not fucking here. I would know if she was. We stalk through the house toward the back patio and find the pool empty except for a giant inflatable chair and a floating pink flamingo. My girl sat there only an hour ago. My heart is splitting in two. If I didn’t believe my own eyes, I’d be sure someone had their hands inside my chest and was tearing it apart. This can’t be real. She can’t be gone. Because I cannot fucking breathe without her. There is a deep, visceral ache in my chest that makes me heave for breath. I hold onto the door frame before I fall on my ass and can’t get up again. Half-empty cocktails sit on tables and towels are draped over the sun loungers as though everyone left in a hurry. I look at the inflatable flamingo again and my heart almost stops beating. If I could only travel back to that moment, the moment Ash told me she was safe…before my whole goddamn world fucking fell to pieces. If I could go back, I could keep her safe.
“Max?” Dante calls me and I spin around. “Here.” He disappears, and I hear him mumbling. I find him crouched over Ash’s body. There’s a bullet hole in the center of his chest, and Dante places two fingers on his throat, checking for a pulse.
Eyes wide, he slaps his hands down on Ash’s chest. “Call 911!”
“He’s alive?” The question is rhetorical, so I don’t wait for an answer. Ash might know something that can help us find Joey, which means we need to get him medical attention immediately.
After I call the ambulance, I take over from Dante, applying pressure on Ash’s wound while he calls Lorenzo and tells him what happened. “Hang in there, buddy. Help’s coming.”
Dante finishes his call and crouches beside me, taking back over trying to stem the flow of blood from Ash’s bullet wound. “Lorenzo’s on his way. He’s coordinating reinforcements. All the men we can spare and Dmitri too. While we go to the hospital with Ash, he’s going to tear this place apart and find something to tell us what happened here.”
I can tear this place apart while we wait for him. Noticing a scrap of blue fabric on the cabinet, I stand up and cross the room. It’s Joey’s wet bathing suit. I pick it up and hold it to my nose hoping for her sweet scent, but all I smell is pool water. I keep it in my hand though because it was on her skin not so long ago and that makes me feel closer to her.
“We’ll find her, Max,” Dante assures me.
“Hmm,” I mumble as I pick up the cocktail glass nearby. It’s full. I sniff the contents and confirm it’s a margarita. Glancing around the room I see the small dustpan and brush. Inspecting the contents reveals shattered glass. I pick a piece up and hold it to my nose. More margarita.
“She was drugged,” I say.
