“Then I’m free to go?”
He could see the indecision on the man’s face and knew what the answer was, so he started for the door. In the hall, he looked left then right, attempting to find—
“Hey, you okay?”
His attention shot over to the scattering of desks and the familiar, concerned voice. It only took a second to find Trey weaving his way through the clutter on his way over, and when he did, something shifted inside Magnus’s chest. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but it felt a hell of a lot like relief. As though he wasn’t alone in this. Whatever the fuckthiswas.
“Where’d he go?” Magnus asked, stepping closer. “The guy who was in the hall. Which way did he go?”
Trey was staring at him, clearly unsure whether to answer. “Do you know him?”
“Where’d he go, Trey?”
Trey stepped closer, put his hand on Magnus’s arm, and steered him toward the exit door. “We need to talk.”
“You ready?”
Magnus jerked his attention behind him, and there stood Brantley, watching him closely.
What the fuck was going on here?
“Come on,” Trey said, nudging Magnus toward the door. “Let’s go talk.”
“I don’t want to fucking talk,” he snapped, a red-hot rage boiling in his veins. It had started to bubble when the cops dragged him here, got hotter when he realized no one wanted to tell him a damn thing, and then seeing Harrison Rivers … it’d turned into lava, and Magnus was seconds away from detonating. Why the fuck wasn’t anyone telling him what the hell was going on? And what the hell was Ava’s bastard of a husband doing here?
“What the fuck?” he bit out, jerking his arm out of Trey’s grip.
Magnus wasn’t an idiot. He knew everything centered around Ava and whatever relationship they believed he had with her. And that could mean only one thing: something had happened to Ava, but they weren’t admitting it.
He spun around, stared directly into Trey’s eyes. “Where is she, Trey? Where’s Ava?”
An answer didn’t come, but Magnus saw something shutter in Trey’s gaze.
“Please, God, tell me she’s all right,” Magnus insisted, keeping his voice low.
“We’ll talk in a minute,” Trey growled softly, once again guiding him outside.
Magnus gave in, headed out the door, down the ramp, and to the parking lot. He even continued toward Brantley’s truck when he realized that was where they were headed. But when they reached it, Magnus refused to get in.
He faced off with Trey. “Tell me what the fuck is goin’ on.”
Trey’s eyes locked on his face, narrowing as he spoke. “Ava’s missing. And someone called in a tip claimin’ you’re responsible for her disappearance.”
Magnus swallowed the desert that had formed in his throat. “Missing?”
“According to her husband, yes,” Trey stated, that steel-blue gaze piercing him.
Magnus felt the cold chill sweep down his spine at the news.
Missing.
Christ.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and Magnus glanced over, saw Ava’s husband walking out of the police station all cocky and proud, as though he was the king of the fucking world.
Before he knew what he was doing, Magnus was marching toward him. He could see the evil in that bastard’s eyes, knew what he’d done.
“Where is she?” Magnus demanded, storming up to Harrison Rivers, grabbing him by the shirt, and jerking him like a rag doll. “Where the fuck is she?”
