“But you’ll sulk, right?” Koby lets out a chuckle before his face falls. “Oh, I’m so looking forward to your whining.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not tonight. I have my eyes on a different prize.” He gestures ahead, pointing out a group of young women. “The blonde one,” he clarifies, staring at his target.
While they bicker about Koby whoring himself out on a weekly basis, I flick through the apps on my phone. I may as well check whether Bianca’s popped up.
I’d love to switch off while we’re relaxing atScarlett,but my compulsive, obsessive side won’t allow it. I’d hate to miss a hit because I was adamant not to check my phone every hour.
I open the monitor app feeding data from my laptop and sit up, my heart’s rhythm accelerating. I’m so used to seeing a blank screen that when I find three clips from three separate security cameras in Dayton showing Bianca’s tear-stricken face, I refresh the app three times, making sure this is fucking real.
My fingers shake as I play the first video, watching her lean against a liquor store’s wall, her chest heaving, body shaking as if she ran a marathon.
Or as if she’s terrified.
The clip runs for twenty seconds until the camera turns, scanning the street, the time stamp in the corner telling me there’s a lag in my system. Over an hour’s passed since this was recorded and I only just got it.
That won’t do. The face-recognition software, as accurate as it is, should be faster. An hour is a long time. Bianca might be anywhere by now. Off our radar again.
“Is that—?” Broadway starts, his voice tight.
“Yeah.”
I click the next clip: Bianca rushing down another street. She keeps looking over her shoulder as if she’s being chased.
The panicked look on her face twists my insides.
I’ve been after this girl for weeks. I scoured her social media accounts, read through every single post she’s ever written, and flicked through a thousand pictures. It’s only natural that I’ve gotten protective along the way.
The next video shows her in a convenience shop, snatching a few protein bars and a water bottle from the shelves.
“What the hell is she doing?” Broadway mutters, keeping his voice low so as not to alert Hailey.
We don’t want that.
She’s been crawling out of her skin since Bianca’s existence was announced.
We all thought Hailey was unbearable while we were looking for Violet, but we were sorely mistaken. She’s ten times worse now, and I bet it’s because her sister’s been missing ten times longer than the week we spent finding Violet.
“Where is this?” Broadway asks, summoning Koby’s attention by kicking him under the table.
He catches my shin in the process; that’s how I know.
“Dayton,” I reply, returning to the app’s home screen only to find another clip.
This time, Bianca’s looking straight at the camera like she’s making sure her face gets recognized. Vaughn must’ve told her about the system both we and Grey use.
“If we’ve seen this, so has Octavius. And Blaze,” I say hiding behind a glass of whiskey from the two nosey girls opposite us.
They’re deep in conversation, but if we’re not careful that’ll change, and Hailey will expect to tag along for the ride.
“It’s over an hour away,” Broadway says, leveling me with a pointed stare. “Two from Pennsylvania. The sooner we move, the better, but not until Carter’s done with his informant. We can’t leave the girls here without security.”
“That’s why you’re staying.” I jut my chin at Broadway, simultaneously urging Koby to get moving.
Two wrinkles dent his forehead, the short exchange between Broadway and me not registering while he was salivating over the blonde he’d like to bend over any flat surface.
“No fucking way,” Broadway protests, his hands in tight fists.
