She wasn’t fucking backstage.
“Where is she?” His voice was lower, darker, and meaner, but he didn’t care.
“She was here five minutes ago,” Kennedy sputtered.
Five minutes? She could be out and on the road in that amount of time.
“Who was she with?” He whipped out his phone and texted Anderson, who’d been waiting in their parked, armored car in front of the gallery all evening. Then he barked at Dex through his earpiece to come meet him.
“I—I don’t know. Other models. Photographers. Everyone.” Kennedy gestured around the space. “It’s packed in here.”
“Well, she has to be with someone because she’s not here!” He never yelled, but the roar that tore from his chest now was pure fury, laced with panic. Rage and fear tangled in his throat.
How the hell had he let this happen?
“Maybe she went to the after-party without you?” Thiswas from another security guard, who’d helped him sweep the backstage area. “Have you tried calling her?”
Slowly, gripping every ounce of the self-restraint he had left, he turned on the man who clearly should’ve been fired for his complete lack of competence.
“You have a no-phone rule backstage to preventoutfit leaks.” He ground his teeth together so hard it was a wonder they didn’t crack.
“It’s also to protect model privacy and—” Kennedy broke off as soon as she registered his glower.
Rules like this made sense for the designers, but right now it was putting Vanessa at risk. “She knew to wait for me here. She wouldn’t have left.”
Unless under duress or with someone she absolutely trusted.
His brain started to ping at a hundred miles a minute. “Where is her friend?”
“Which friend? She’s friendly with everyone.”
“The tall blonde.”
Kennedy looked at him as if he were missing a brain cell or two.
“Well, sir, there are a lot of?—”
“The one in the green dress!” he shouted, his agitation eating him from the inside out. “Nikki.”
“Oh, she’s around here.” Circling in one spot, she stopped when her gaze caught on the person in question. She lifted her hand and waved it wildly. “Miss Kline. Miss Kline, can you come here, please?”
The model gave her a slight sneer, but then sashayed over when she caught Jordan watching. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Vanessa in the last five minutes?” His tone was impatient.
“Oh, for sure,” Nikki told him. “She was with Landon. I saw them leave a few minutes ago.”
“Who’s Landon?” Kennedy asked.
“Landon Turner. One of the photographers here tonight.” Nikki’s brow furrowed as she watched the woman scan her clipboard.
Kennedy’s gaze darting between Nikki and Jordan.
“We don’t have a photographer by that name cleared to be here tonight.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
“Landon, I don’t understand.” Fear unlike any she’d ever known crackled up her spine. Her heart hammered in her chest. She stared at her friend, the person she’d known for ten years, partied with, texted, made silly reels with when they were both young and naïve.
