Away from safety.
Away from me.
My breath stutters. It feels like there is a hand wrapped around my heart, squeezing so tight I feel lightheaded.
“Mr. Rivers?—”
I cut Theo off before he can make excuses. “She’s gone. Shit. You’re supposed to protect her, Theo. That’s what I pay you for.” My head is pounding. I’ve never felt terror like this. My pregnant wife is wandering the streets of New York without protection, without me.
I lean against the desk, sucking in a breath, but it doesn’t reach my lungs. “You get off your ass and you go after her. Right now.”
Theo hesitates, and I watch him on the screen, glancing at Juno. I watch the way his shoulders square, the way his head drops just a fraction, how he tightens his hand around the phone.
Mia’s phone.
“With all due respect, Mr. Rivers, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The storm building inside me is catastrophic. I want to unleash a hail of rage. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea? “She’s pregnant, Theo, and she’s wandering the city alone.”
I’m already pulling up the tracking software for her, clicking through an endless amount of menus with a frustration that could level the city. But her purse isn’t moving, neither is her coat.
Which means both trackers are still at the gallery—and she’s not with them.
Fuck.
“Mrs. Rivers is… Breaking.”
That gets my attention. Why the hell is she breaking? “Explain,” I growl the word, halfway to feral.
He doesn’t answer, and it doesn’t matter. The only thing I care about is finding my wife and getting her somewhere safe. “If you still want a job tomorrow, I suggest you get the fuck out there and find her.”
I end the call and grab my jacket from the back of my chair. I don’t say a word to anyone in my office as I move to the elevator like a hurricane. My brain is a reel of worst-case scenarios. What if someone grabs her off the street? What if she gets hurt? What if the baby is?—
I cut that line of thought before I let it settle.
Theo said she’s breaking.
I’ve been a lot. I know that. Did I… fuck. Did I push her to take off?
I stab the elevator button until the doors slide open. Fear and guilt batter my skull. My body is wired, electrified.
Where the hell are you, Mia?
My hands are shaking by the time I get into my car. It’s only a short drive to her gallery, but it feels like it takes an eternity. As I move through the traffic, I scan the streets, but in a city as big as New York, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. She could be anywhere by now.
With anyone by now.
I squeeze the steering wheel until the skin pulls tight over my knuckles. “What the fuck are you doing, Mia?”
I keep driving, circling the blocks surrounding the gallery. I ignore the beeps of frustration from other drivers as I crawl along the sidewalks, scanning, searching.
As the minutes edge closer toward the hour mark, I start to fear the worst. She’s never been out of contact this long before.Then again, she’s never been anywhere without somebody tailing her.
Not since I had the money to protect her.
I try to stifle the panic blooming in my chest, but it’s no use. It feels like my insides are being shredded. Every fear I’ve tried to avoid when it comes to her is bearing down, demanding attention.
I tap the steering wheel. “Come on, baby. Where are you?”
