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Riley twisted in her seat, her brows drawing together. “No. I thought she was upstairs working.”
Well, fuck. If she was still working this late, I had a lot more groveling to do than I thought. I knew she wasn't with Tyson. He had to go the other night to deal with someone who’d relapsed. Which meant Sam was overworking herself to keep occupied, and I was the asshole who wasn’t around to take care of her.
I jogged back upstairs, looking around for her, but I couldn’t fucking find her. A sense of apprehension washed over me and I went back downstairs, searching the club and the backyard before coming back to the kitchen. Riley looked worried when I came back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t fucking find her.”
Something wasn’t right, and the apprehension only got worse the longer I didn’t see her. I went for the front door, dread filling my gut, and my stomach dropped when I noticed her truck wasn’t out front like it was supposed to be.
“What the fuck?”
Pulling out my phone, I dialed her immediately, but she didn't answer. It went straight to voicemail. There’s no way she would’ve just run off. She’s not that stupid. I tried again and again, but she never picked up. Fisting my hand in my hair, I looked around helplessly. I didn't know what to do or where to fucking start. The panic was overwhelming. Either she left because she decided I wasn’t worth the effort, or she was taken. Either way, she was in danger.
Darting back inside, I went straight to Croy’s office. His head whipped up, and he looked furious when I didn’t knock, but I ignored him, the panic making me reckless.
“Sam’s missing.”
His expression darkened, and he shoved to his feet. “Since when?”
“No fucking clue. She’s not in the clubhouse and her truck is gone. I just got back recently. Riley and Quinn haven’t seen her.”
Thankfully, he didn’t even hesitate. He stormed around his desk, calling a club meeting, and barked at anyone who didn’t move fast enough. The crew crowded into church before I could blink and everyone was silent as the grave when Croy spoke up.
“Clink’s ol’ lady is missing. Who was the last person to see her?”
No one had any answers and my anxiety kicked up a notch, my knee jiggling restlessly.
“Seriously? Not one fucking person saw her today?” I demanded. I was close to losing it, and everyone had stupid looks on their faces. How the hell could an entire crew not notice her? She was fucking perfect.
“We should ask the prospects,” Brewer commented. When we looked at him, he was frowning. “At one point today, it was just them, wasn’t it? When we went to move the product.”
Shit. I hadn’t realized that. What if they let her get taken while we were gone? Or they were too dumb not to let her leave.
“Get them in here,” Croy growled.
Reaper disappeared from the room and came back a few minutes later with the prospects trailing behind him. One was missing, though.
“Where’s Gabe?”
They looked nervous and none of them wanted to say shit to get another in trouble. In any normal circumstance, that would be the right move. We valued loyalty, and if they were snitching on each other, they weren’t trustworthy to the crew. But right now, they were the only ones who might know where Sam was. I stood, pulling out my piece and advancing menacingly.
“You assholes better start talking. Sam’s missing and you fuckers were supposed to be watching the joint.”
Colin, the same little shit who got his ass kicked for touching Sam, made a face. “She ain’t missing. She left. Spouted some bullshit about needing a tool and took off.”
“And you fucking let her?” I snarled.
Colin made an irritated noise, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “I already got my ass handed to me once for touching her. What was I supposed to do? Knock her ass out?”
I was on him before he could finish his sentence, tackling his ass with my gun pressed under his chin. He froze, his eyes wide and fearful as I hissed, “Touch her and you’re dead.”
Like a smart prospect, he didn't fucking move. Not until Croy spoke, demanding I let him up so we could question him without him pissing himself. He was shoved into a chair and I prowled behind him, wanting to kill this asshole for not saying anything sooner. If he would’ve called, I would’ve come back to talk to her.
“How long?” Croy snapped.
Colin lifted his shoulder. “Few hours. She had to go to her work or whatever. No idea where that shit is, so I didn't know how long it would take.”
