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“What do you remember?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “At least, not after I met up with my friend Jeanine.”
“Must not be much of a friend if she let those guys take you out of there,” Thacker said with a frown. I thought back, racking my brain, trying my best to call up memories from the night before but it was all a blurry haze. I’d been drinking like it was my job.
“She must have left. She would have had to get back to her baby. My phone says it called you at midnight. She probably had to go home before then.”
“And you stayed?”
I could hear the judgment in his tone and it was my turn to frown.
“Apparently so,” I said. He raised an eyebrow.
There was a long pause, and I thought he might explain himself, why he cared so much that he’d been in a blind panic when he left me those messages.
Why he’d called mebaby girl.
But no such luck.
If I wasn’t going to mention it, he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Eat your eggs before they get cold,” he said, and he bowed his head over his plate, tucking in.
36.
Jamie
“Take this left!” I shouted at Rowan as I kept my eyes glued to the little blue dot that was my only connection to Hope’s location—the place she was before her phone died. I’d tried to call her as soon as I saw her text, but her line rang twice and went to voicemail. When I tried again, it went straight to voicemail. I was out of my mind. I had to get to her, right now. I needed to know what the fuck she was doing at Thacker Morris’s house. I needed to know that she was okay. Right fucking now.
Rowan turned hard, slinging my shoulder into the window.
“It should be right up here somewhere,” I said, watching as we crept closer and closer to her location.
“Is her car here?” Rowan asked. He sounded like he was almost as worried as I was. We’d both been up all night, unable to sleep on the bus, afraid something really bad had happened. When I finally did hear from her, it didn’t make me feel any better. Something had obviously happened. I left her alone and she ended up in trouble and now she was stuck at her horrible boss’s house until I could rescue her. “I don’t see it anywhere.”
“He drives a big shit-kicker truck,” I said, prying my eyes away from my phone’s screen to scan the street. “There it is!” It was the sort of truck that guys like him drove—guys with more money than sense, and no real need to haul or tow.
Rowan eased up to the curb and we were both out of the car in a flash, hauling ass toward the front door. I banged on it, and I kept banging until I heard the lock click on the other side. The door swung open and Thacker stuck his head out. His cold eyes looked me up and down.
“Where is she?” I demanded. My hands were already curling into fists. I was more than ready to take out my frustrations on his pretty-boy face. He looked downright smug, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know why. I was turned on by the idea of sharing Hope, but the thought of her sleeping with a guy like Thacker made my blood boil. He didn’t deserve her, especially after the way he’d treated her the past two years.
“Nice to see you, too,” he said with a smirk. I swung my arm back this time, and it was only Rowan catching my fist in midair that stopped it from colliding with Thacker’s face.
“Step aside or I’m going to knock you the fuck out of my way,” I growled, taking a menacing step forward even as Rowan tried to hold me back. Thacker was looking from me to Rowan and back again, seemingly still deciding whether he would let us inside, when the door swung wide open.
Hope was standing there, and the sight of her took my breath away. What else was new? She was wearing that hot little gold dress I loved so much. An ominous sign, considering the circumstances. I did my best to swallow my unwelcome jealousy and put my concern for her first.
“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching for her. She nodded and came to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I squeezed her tightly and buried my face in her hair, closing my eyes tight. When I looked up, I caught Thacker glaring at us. I glared right back.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Thacker probably saved my life last night.”
At first, the words did not compute. Even when they did, I just narrowed my eyes at him, squinting to see the truth in his smug face. Had he brainwashed my girlfriend? Did she have Stockholm syndrome?
“Wait, what do you mean?” Rowan asked, leaning around me to look at Hope. She gave him a small, tight smile.
“I butt-dialed him while these some guys were trying to pick me up at Copper’s,” she said, and we all three turned to look at Thacker. “He came and found me, punched one of the guys, took his picture, and brought me back here to sleep it off.”
“Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?” I demanded, still clinging to my righteous indignation, which felt less righteous with every passing second.
