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That’s something I would totally do. Yep. So with a nod of my head, I head in the pantry’s direction to check. My gaze scans the shelves . . .
Nothing.
But my gaze goes to the fridge. The one with the milk. A long sigh passes through my lips because there it is.
Right next to the milk is my now freezing phone. I’m losing my mind, that is for sure. On the screen is a missed phone call from Jax. I wonder what he wants. He’s at work, so it can’t be anything too important. I’m about to call him back when a text comes through. It’s from Maggie’s number.
Maggie: I need you tonight to work.
I’m not scheduled to work, but I have nothing going on, so I might as well. It will keep my mind preoccupied.
Me: Okay. Where?
Maggie: The old bank on Bowery and Grand 6pm.
Shit. It’s already four p.m., and I have to shower and get dressed.
Without a second to spare, I head over to the shower and turn it on and then set about getting ready for a gig I’m not mentally prepared for.
When I’m out of the shower, I blow dry my hair and then place a dusting of makeup on. Then I grab my phone, dialing Maggie to ask about the details of the party. It goes to voicemail, and I assume she’s still getting ready.
Oh well, I’m sure it can’t be much different from all the other parties I’ve worked.
Rich men drinking far too much.
It only takes me fifteen minutes to show up at the building. It’s quiet outside with no valet or staff yet, but that’s not uncommon at this time. I assume the party starts at seven and Maggie, being Maggie, wants me here a bit early to go over the details of the clientele.
The doors to the bank are large, ornate, and heavy to the touch. I have to use all my force to push it open.
With a bit of effort, it budges, and I step inside.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jaxson
Now that I know it’s him, I try to call Willow again. Her phone rings, but again, she doesn’t answer.
It makes no sense at all.
Willow isn’t one not to answer the phone, and since she’s not here, she must be at my place.
Turning toward my computer, I access the security cameras.
I look through the stills, and I see an image of her walking out the door.
When was this?
I look at the time stamp. Twenty minutes ago. Okay, but where did she go?
As she walks out the door, she picks up the phone. In this image, all I can see is her face and the phone to her ear. I flip to another camera, and this time I see a full picture of her.
She’s wearing a skintight black dress.
Work. Okay, she had a job. But still. Why didn’t she call me back? I know I shouldn’t track her, but I need to know she is okay.
Call me crazy, but I have to see with my own eyes.
I’m debating whether I should let my crazy kick in and track her when my phone rings.
It’s an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Umm,” a voice I don’t recognize says on the phone, “Jax?” When she says my name, I can hear the fear, and a name pops in my head.
“Maggie?” I ask.
“Is Willow with you?” Her voice is low, full of concern, and my back goes ramrod straight.
“What do you mean?” A strange feeling weaves its way through me. I know something is wrong.
“The thing is . . . I was in the shower, and when I got out . . .”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m a little rattled.”
“What happened?”
She takes a deep breath. “When I got out, the door to my apartment was open. I thought maybe Willow came home and forgot to close it.”
“Okay.”
“Well, then . . . I opened my phone to ask her, and I saw the texts.”
“What texts?”
“The ones I sent to Willow, but I didn’t send them.”
“What do you mean?”
“They came from my phone, but I didn’t send them. Someone else did. Someone else sent the texts.”
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I don’t need her to speak to confirm my own fears, but she does . . .
“He found her.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Willow
As soon as I step inside, I know something is wrong. I must have the wrong address.
Although the architecture is beautiful, with gold leaf ceilings and large marble pillars, the center of the room is a construction site.
It reminds me of an Egyptian tomb where they bury the living.
Yeah, I definitely got the wrong address. I pull out my phone and look down to check.
As if emerging from the shadows, I see him.
My head shakes back and forth.
He’s not here.
Like the time before and the time before that, my eyes are playing tricks on me.
He steps closer, but there is no mistaking it’s him.
