I’ve been here since five a.m., the same as yesterday.
“You look like shit,” Tripp says from his spot against the wall, his arms crossed, and a toothpick rolling between his teeth.
I don’t bother responding. He’s not wrong; Ifeellike shit. Three days of catnaps and cold coffee will do that. I drag a hand over my beard and resist the urge to look around, to look for her.
She’s close by. I can sense her presence. Like a constant itch that I can’t scratch, poking at my awareness, reminding me what an idiot I am.
“Anything new?” I ask Van.
“Maybe.” His fingers don’t stop moving across the keyboard, eyes fixed on the centre screen. “Dimitri’s phone went dark after he left the mansion, but I’ve been tracking the vehicle. NoGPS on his car, but traffic cams picked it up heading east, then nothing.” He taps a key, then a map fills one monitor, and a red line traces a route that dead-ends in the middle of nowhere. “But assuming this is a similar situation, we’re searching through local properties for shell corporation ownership, or anything fishy.”
“You think she’s been sold already.”
He immediately dismisses that idea. “Not necessarily. Dimitri might still have Amber. When the auction was cancelled, any sensible buyer would have walked away. And Emma said she was their prize lot. She doesn’t think Dimitri would kill her. He’d stash her somewhere until the heat dies down.”
Hearing her name floors me, along with a flash of jealousy that catches me off guard. Van’s human. Fit. Clever.
And he didn’t do what I did.
Maybe that’s the kind of man she would have chosen if she had the chance.
“You’re growling at me. Please stop. You’re making it extremely hard to concentrate.”
Van doesn’t stop typing, but he does ease slightly further away from me, his gaze briefly falling to where my fingers are white-knuckling the table just inches from his side.
I’m looming over him, literally breathing down his neck. No wonder his pulse is racing.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pulling myself back together. Adding another person to my body count isn’t going to help my case.
Standing back to full height, I take a step back to give him some breathing space, praying he’ll work a miracle and find her. Van nods without looking up, already lost in whatever rabbit hole he’s chasing.
Rescuing Amber and any other Kozlov had is the only thing I can think of besides my mate. It’s my fault we have no ideawhere they are. The only people who might have been able to help us are gone.
And because of my actions, Zara’s still missing her sister, and she’s enduring God only knows what.
I grab my tablet from the cluttered table and settle into a chair across the room, pulling up case files and scouring them for even the smallest clue we might have missed before. Kozlov’s network. Known associates. Anyone who might know where Dimitri would stash someone he wanted to disappear.
The work helps. Gives me something to focus on besides the pull toward the cabin at the edge of the town.
Beau appears in the doorway around noon, with a sandwich in one hand that he clearly intends for me. He takes one look at my face, at the pile of cold cups beside my chair, and shakes his head.
“When’s the last time you ingested something that wasn’t caffeine?” The sandwich smells delicious, but I don’t deserve his kindness. They had a plan, and I didn’t stick to it. Now all of these girls are in the wind.
“I’m fine.”
Tripp scoffs, still watching me from the far side of the room, and I realise he’s not here to work; he’s only here to keep an eye on me.
“You’re not fine. And you’re running yourself into the ground.” He sets the sandwich on the table beside me, pushing aside papers to make room. “Emma’s been asking about you.”
Of course, she has. Because she’s a good person. Better than I deserve. I swallow back the swell of emotion that threatens to overtake me and shift in my seat.
“Careful now. He growled at Van for just mentioning her name,” Tripp mutters.
My jaw tightens as I keep my eyes on the tablet. “I’ve been busy. Van’s tracking…” But my big brother is no fool, so myattempt to suck Beau into an update on the investigation is rapidly ended. He’s good at reading people, and right now, he can see straight through me.
“Too busy for your mate?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Yourfatedmate.” Easing closer to me, he dumps the sandwich down on the table with a loud slap. I’m guessing bringing it wasn’t his idea. He doesn’t seem like he’s feeling particularly charitable.
His bear pushes forward, letting me feel his anger at my behavior.
