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Lock speared him with a lethal look that had him lifting his hands.
Jinx snorted. “Sorry. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“I’m losing my mind, Jinx,” he said. It felt as though a thousand fire ants marched across his skin, ripping and tearing at his flesh, and that was a fraction of the internal pain Brenna’s disappearance caused. The racing thoughts wouldn’t quiet. Had she crashed her car? Was she lying on the road, bleeding and wishing someone would stop to help? Did a fucking alien ship land in her yard and ship her off to another planet?
Had fucking Oliver messed with her?
Bingo.
“I know. Here.” Jinx slid a tumbler his way. “Drink it… don’t throw it.”
“I can’t.” Even if he hadn’t been steering clear of alcohol, he needed a clear mind to think. He needed to feel the pain and let it fuel him.
“It’s water. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since we realized Bren was missing. Fucking drink it before you pass out. Or murder someone.”
“If we find Oliver, you better let me kill him.”
Jinx grunted. “Oh, I’ll hold him down as you tear out his heart, brother.”
Nodding, Lock lifted the glass to his lips. He chugged the icy water. It tasted delicious and felt even better. He must have been more parched than he’d realized.
He set the glass down and then watched a drip of condensation slide from the rim to the small puddle forming around the tumbler’s base. His insides were a tumultuous storm of pain, fear, and anxiety. Christ, he hated the waiting. The club was doing everything in its power to locate Brenna or Oliver, or fucking anyone who could toss them a morsel of information. So far, they’d come up empty. Hence, the feral beast inside him was fighting to be let free.
This was the reason he’d turned to drugs after Deanna’s death. He couldn’t stand the emotions running through him. It felt as though he was literally going out of his mind with worry and grief. If they didn’t hear something soon, he might ask Jinx to tie him to a fucking chair so he didn’t run to his dealer and beg for numbness. Floating on a cloud of fuzzy sensations beat this shit any day.
But the aftermath would bring a new shitstorm of trouble.
“Hey,” Jinx said, concern thick in his voice. “You gonna be able to hold your shit together?”
Lock shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m hanging on by the thinnest fucking thread, and it’s fraying fast.”
Nodding, Jinx glanced at Curly’s office and then back to Lock. “Hasn’t snapped yet?”
“No. But it’s damn close.”
“She’ll need you,” Jinx said with a frown, reaching for his glass of whiskey. He set it down, then shoved it out of reach as though realizing it might not be a wise choice with Lock so damn fragile. “We don’t know what the fuck is going on with her, but there’s a good chance she’ll need you when we find her. You won’t be able to do shit for her if you’re blitzed.”
Yep. “It’s the only thing keeping me sober.”
“Good. Hold on to that.” Jinx reached across the bar and slapped his shoulder. “Cling to it. All you need is one reason to stay away from that shit, and being there for your woman seems like a damn good reason to me.”
Lock nodded. He couldn’t speak, only fight the ramping need for oblivion.
“But if you decide you need to check out, I’m sure Pulse or Ty would be happy to take over when we find her.”
What the fuck? Lock narrowed his eyes.
“Pretty sure I caught Pulse staring at her tits the other day. And you know Ty. He’s a big fan of brown-haired beauties.” He clapped Lock on the shoulder again, then strode away from the bar, calling, “I’ll get an update from Curly.”
Lock stared at his retreating form, his blood boiling for an entirely different reason. Did Pulse want Brenna? Did Ty? Brother or not, he’d end any man who tried to comfort her when it was his job.
He watched Jinx’s retreating form with a scowl. Just as the big guy reached Curly’s office, he turned and winked.
Lock scoffed.
That motherfucker.
Jinx knew precisely what he was saying and that it would be the jolt Lock needed to screw his head straight.
