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“Then it’s not your fault,” he says, ducking down and forcing me to look at him. “I know you have feelings for her, but she isn’t your responsibility.”
“I don’t—”
“Get over yourself, Bones,” Juliana buts in, fixing me with a steely gaze. “We’re all tired of the denial. Say whatever you want, but you’re so transparent. You like her and you care about her, so grow a pair of balls and admit your feelings so we can all stop walking on eggshells around you.”
Hex and I exchange a surprised look and I take a step away from Juliana, genuinely concerned that she might hit me. Her rage is rolling off her in waves, all of it directed toward me.
“Life is too short,” she says more evenly. “Trust me, I know. So let’s make a plan and look for her.”
I nod and we agree that we need to coordinate. There are a lot of clubs in this area, a lot of places she could have gotten to. Juliana tries calling her several times, but of course she doesn’t pick up. She wants space from me, which means space from Juliana, too. She’s not just going to willingly come back.
There’s a small part of me that thinks maybe I should just give in to her request and leave her alone for the night. We both could use some time away from each other after this week. But there’s a feeling in my gut telling me that she’s in danger. She was attacked at work twice, and once while she was at a club. Someone is watching her, following her. We might be too late.
“I’ll go to a few more clubs,” Juliana offers. “We went to three the other night, I’ll just retrace our steps, okay? Maybe she went to one of them.”
“I’ll come,” Hex tells her, not so much offering as he is insisting. He doesn’t want her going alone, an urge I completely understand.
“Call Meredith,” I tell him as we walk out of the club and I head toward my bike. “I’m going back to her apartment to see if she’s there.”
We split up and I get on my bike, revving the engine and speeding away from the curb. I can’t get to her place fast enough, traffic laws be damned. She’s never wanted to get the police involved because of her father. I understand that now. She’s been hiding things from him too. But maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get pulled over and tell the cops all about it. No such luck, though. I make it to her place in exactly seven minutes with no one to stop me.
Of course, there’s the issue of keys. I’m usually with her, so I haven’t had to get a key to the building. We aren’t dating, so it’s not like the conversation about making me a key ever came up. I press the buzzer for several apartments hoping that someone ordered food. It reminds me of the night the pizza delivery guy showed up at her apartment. He probably did the same thing to get in. Knowing what I do now, I was probably right to be short with him.
The thought only fills me with more dread. If that is the case, then these people know where she lives. It was just a coincidence that I was there that night. What would have happened if I hadn’t been? What would have happened if I hadn’t saved her that first night in the parking lot? Someone buzzes me in and I grab at the door, running toward the stairs so I can work off some of that nervous energy. She’s fine. She has to be fine.
I knock on the door, but she doesn’t answer. She’s just inside and mad at me, that’s all. She’s not in danger. She’s fine. I keep repeating this mantra to myself, but it’s doing nothing to assure me. I bang on the door again but get no response again. A neighbor sticks his head out and gives me a dirty look, but I’m far too intimidating for him to start shit with me. He slowly closes his door and I hear the sound of several locks being turned.
Melissa could be dead right now, but I’m the criminal to her neighbors. Shit, if her face gets plastered on the news, that asshole next door will probably call and describe me to a T. This is all so screwed up. Where the hell is she?
I pull out my phone and open up our messages. I don’t expect there to be any from her since she disappeared. She hasn’t texted me in days. Why would she? I’ve been around her 24/7. This is all my fault, I just had to be the overbearing bodyguard. She hates me and now she’s missing and it’s all because I couldn’t just leave well enough alone. So what if she is Mayor Prudent’s daughter? What did that really change about her?
I quickly type out a text to her:
Please call me when you can. I’m sorry about everything.
Then I scroll up and see a message I’d forgotten about. It’s like an oasis in the middle of a desert:There’s a key behind the fire extinguisher. You can let yourself in.
She’d sent that two weeks ago, before our fight. I was coming over from the club and she wanted me to be able to get in. She’d been home, though, so I didn’t need to use it. Now, I lift the fire extinguisher out of its holder and see a key taped to the wall behind it. It’s not the safest place to hide a key, but I’m not going to lecture her about it. When I find her safe inside her apartment, we’ll have a calm conversation about everything and it will be okay.
Except she isn’t in her apartment. It’s not a large place, it’s not like she has a million places to hide. My couch bed is still rumpled from this morning, there are two coffee mugs still in the sink. I look at the hook next to the door and her keys are absent. Her bed is made pristinely, the way it always is when she leaves the house. The bathroom door is slightly ajar with the light off.
Everything in the apartment feels stale, quiet. No one’s been here. I can only hope that Hex and Juliana are having more luck than I am. I step out of the apartment and lock the door, pocketing the key instead of putting it back behind the extinguisher. I don’t want anyone else having access to her. I think maybe I’ll go join Hex and Juliana wherever they are and continue the search.
When I get outside in the open air, though, all the wind is knocked out of me. The panic fully settles in, bringing me to my knees. I sit on the stoop and try to focus on my breathing, to calm myself down. Just because she isn’t here doesn’t mean she isn’t safe. We’ll find her safe and sound and laugh about this together. She can buy the drinks after all the stress she put us through.
I shoot off a quick text to Hex to see if he has any updates. Please, let him have an update. Let him say that they found her safe and sound at another club and they’re on their way back here.
Hex:No luck yet. I called Meredith and she hasn’t seen her, but she’s calling Seer to put him on alert. Don’t worry, mon frère, we’re going to find her.
I’m going to puke. He hasn’t found her at a club. Meredith hasn’t seen her. I don’t know anyone else in her life I could call. We didn’t get to that stage either. I doubt we ever will, and the thought causes another wave of nausea. She’s fine. She has to be fine.
I lean forward, dropping my head between my knees. Somewhere I read that this helps control breathing when you’re losing your shit, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. Being in this position doesn’t make me feel any better. It makes me feel hopeless. It makes me feel weak.
I’m about to sit up when something in the grass catches my eye. I lean over to inspect it more carefully, and now I know I’m going to throw up. She came home. She was here. Because sitting in the grass is her keyring. I pick it up and inspect it closely. There’s no doubt in my mind, it has her house key, her car key, her work fob, and a little tiny ballerina slipper on a keychain.
I immediately call Seer and tell him what I’ve found. I hop back on my bike and head toward the clubhouse. We’re officially in recovery mode.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
