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Then I see a text chain from an unknown number. I open it and can’t believe my eyes. Someone sent her a picture of me on my date. And an offer of drugs. Fuck.
I walk to the house and enter as quietly as possible. When I make it up to Ivy’s room she’s not there and it doesn’t appear that she has been. The bed is made. Fuck.Where are you, Princess?
I spend a few minutes looking around her desk and end table for a clue as to where she may have gone. I’ve got nothing. As I turn to leave, I spot a painting on her easel. Walking over, I inspect it closely. It’s a man with a wing tattoo on his back, white flesh, and black wings. I know without a doubt it’s me. Glancing down, I notice he has something in his hand. I pick it up, looking closer, and it’s a heart. He’s crushing it in the palm of his hand. There’s nothing I want more than to destroy this fucking painting. I did not break her goddamn heart. She walked away from me. I’m going to spank her ass so hard when I find her.
Where the fuck would she go? She didn’t text whoever this asshole is, back beyond asking who he was. I walk out of her room and go to the garage. I’m going to travel to all the places I shouldn’t go. All the drug hangouts. Once again, for Ivy. I’m going to fucking find her. I never should’ve let her go, instead, I should’ve spanked her ass until she couldn’t sit on it.
After getting into my vehicle, I drive to the first spot, thirty minutes from the house. My anger is out of control. I speed down the streets, cutting off several drivers. I get to the first location and search for her. Homeless people sit on the street beside dumpsters, doing their drugs out in the open. I show the picture I have of her on my phone to everyone I come across, but they all say they haven’t seen her.
Once I’ve gone to every place I can think of and still haven’t found her, I realize I'm out of options. I know there’s two things I need to do. First, I’m going to call my Uncle Xander’s friend Max. He’s an assassin. I don’t need him to kill anyone, but I do need access to his intel. He has somebody that works for him that can find anything on anyone. I want to know who sent that text message and where the fuck Ivy is. The second thing I’m going to need to do is tell my dad everything.
I’m sitting in my car beside myself, running my hand through my hair in agitation, when my dad calls, “Hi,” I answer.
“Have you seen Ivy?”
I blow out a big breath, “No.”
Glancing at the clock in the car, I notice it’s eight in the morning.
“Fuck. She isn’t in her room, and I don’t think she slept here.”
I hate giving him false hope, but I say, “She’s eighteen. Maybe she went to a friends.”
He growls, “I’d still like to know where my daughter is.”
Yeah, so would I.
“Call me if you hear from her.”
I nod as if he can see me, “Yeah. I will. You do the same.”
Next, I call Max.
“Nash?” He answers sounding surprised and I’m sure he is. Five years ago, he came to see me in prison to find out if I wanted a job after I was released. I told him no. I have no interest in doing what he does or did before he retired. He still works with the assassins, but mostly as a consultant, according to Xander.
“Yeah, it’s me. I need your help.”
“Alright. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”
I respond, “Outside PCH Coffee Company.”
“I’m on my way. Go get a drink. I’ll be there soon.”
Without another word, he disconnects the call. Stepping out of the vehicle, I make my way inside the coffee shop. I order a black coffee, although right about now I’d prefer a whiskey.
I’m going out of my fucking mind as I sit here waiting for Max. Where the fuck is she? Obviously, it has to be drug related. That’s the only thing that makes sense. I run a hand through my hair ready to pull it out at the roots. This is the first time since I’ve been out of prison that I’ve felt the urge to use. To escape. If I weren’t so focused on Ivy, I would be worried. After I find her, I need to find a meeting. The worst part of being a drug addict, aside from the terrible things I did, was feeling so fucking out of control. It’s why I am the man I am today. Right now, I feel like that junkie all over again. Out of control. Hanging on by a thread.
I thought I simply enjoyed the sex with Ivy. However, I’m realizing it’s more than that. I’m nearly crawling out of my skin, imagining the most horrific scenarios in my head. I just hope I can get to her before it’s too fucking late. I’m fucking consumed by her. The last week has been unnerving. I’ve never been this wrapped up in a woman. Now that I don’t know where she is or if she’s okay, I’m coming unglued.
Max walks in and sits across from me, “Hey.”
I forgot what a giant he is. His presence has every female in this place staring. I’m not sure if it’s because they think he’s attractive or if they think he’ll kill them. He does look threatening.
I nod, “Hey. This is going to be a long story. I need you to keep this between us for now.”
He arches an eyebrow, “I’m not in the habit of gossiping, Nash.”
Blowing out a big breath, I say, “Yeah, it’s your connection to Elle and Xander that concerns me.”
