Lucian grunted. “He’s probably coming down off whatever cocktail of shit he was taking the other night.”
Henry’s eyebrows pinched together. “Or he may be dead in his hotel room from an overdose. We have no idea what he’s been taking, or how much … or how long this has been going on.”
My stomach dropped. What on earth had happened while we’d been cruising the South Pacific?
Lucian’s expression turned grave. “Right. I’ll contact the hotel, get them to check his room. You get in touch with the two blokes from SynAPPsee, see if they can shine any light on the events of the night … and maybe smooth things over with them?”
Henry’s frown deepened. “My favourite thing to do … clean up Atlas’s messes.”
“You’ve been doing it since uni,” Lucian reminded him. “There’s just more at stake this time around. A multi-billion-dollar business to be exact. And … are you going to involve your silent partner?”
Henry massaged his temples, and I felt a rush of protectiveness over him. Whatever had happened to Atlas, he’d only just found out about it, and he was having to come to terms with it while working out a plan to protect his business.
I moved behind his chair and found his shoulders, squeezing. His hand covered mine, winding our fingers together.
“I need to deal with the urgent priorities first,” Henry muttered. “I need to know he’s okay. I need to release a statement. What we do moving forward … that can wait.”
“That’s a smart plan, Henry,” Liv added gently. “I’ll brief you on the crisis-management plan. But first, we’ll get this document signed. I’d like our clandestine workplace liaison to be legitimised, Pookie.”
Even with all the tension of the Atlas conversation, I couldn’t help the chortle that bubbled out of my throat.
“Pookie?” Henry asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed Lucian.
“Don’t even ask,” Lucian grumbled, as Liv, her shiny brown bob bouncing, joined in my giggling.
Liv and Lucian left as soon as Liv had gone through the details of the crisis-management plan with Henry so we could get in the air. The flight back to Airlie Beach had been filled with Henry making multiple calls, muttering down the phone, his expression grave. Occasionally he’d reached out and taken my hand in his, like he needed my touch to ground him. Touch I was only too happy to provide.
I would do anything for this man. Including giving him the piece of me that I was most ashamed of.
But not until morning. It was well after dark when the helicopter deposited us back on Staghorn Island, and all either of us could think about was a shower and bed.
Wrapped up in Henry’s arms, I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke the next morning to the low murmur of Henry’s sleepy voice beside me. When I stirred, he slid an arm around my shoulders and tugged me into him.
“Hold on, Lucian, I’m just going to put you on speaker so Ri can hear too.” He turned to me as he tapped at his phone, explaining, “There’s no news from the hotel. They checked his room when Lucian called. He wasn’t there, but all his things were in a state of chaos.”
“He hasn’t checked out, so they’re assuming he’s coming back at some point,” Lucian added. “I’ve asked them to give him an urgent message to get in touch the second he shows up in the lobby.”
“The SynAPPsee guys had nothing much to say, except that it was obvious to them he was trying to get them as rip-roaring drunk as he was,” Henry muttered. “If he was taking anything else, they didn’t know about it.”
Henry set the phone on the bed covers, massaging his temples and reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. “I’m very concerned about his mental state.”
Lucian snorted. “This is peak Atlas behaviour, Bax. He’s probably picked up some socialite and living it up in a Pacific Heights penthouse with her.”
“He wasn’t himself the last few times we spoke,” Henry insisted. “Ithink he’s out of his depth, business-wise, and he’s made some promises he couldn’t keep.”
“And that made him snort drugs off a toilet seat and throw punches?” Lucian muttered.
“I think we could talk ourselves in circles for days and still be no closer to working out what’s been going on in Atlas’s head.” Henry sighed. “I just need to know he’s okay. All the rest we can handle, but I need to know that he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere.”
His body shook, and I realised he was hanging onto his calm by a thread. I climbed between him and the pillows and tugged him against me, massaging his shoulders. He let out a shaky breath.
“If he hasn’t made contact within twenty-four hours, we’ll file a missing person report with the San Francisco Police,” Lucian said.
“That’s a solid plan,” I agreed. “You’ve done everything you can for now. He’s a grown man, and I know you care about him, but you’re not responsible for his behaviour, or his decisions.”
Henry sighed. “I know. I just … I don’t like being presented with a problem that I can’t solve.”
