“Stella,” Andre said. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to report a missing person.”
He asked for Nell’s full name. Date of birth. Description. Last contact. Last sighting. Vehicle description and plate. Place of employment. School. Roommate or significant other. Any conflicts in her life. Any reason she might want to leave town. She told him everything, and Andre wrote it all down.
“I’ll call the property owner of her apartment and get them to let me in for a wellness check. If we come up empty, we’ll file an official missing person’s report.”
She left the station with Andre’s card in her pocket and drove home. Stella’s phone rang at nine-thirty and she answered.
“Stella, it’s Andre.”
“What did you find?”
“She’s not in the apartment. Her wallet’s in the backpack on the coffee table. Phone and keys aren’t there. No sign of a struggle. No sign she packed to leave. Suitcase is still in the closet.”
Stella gulped. “Thank you, Andre.”
Stella sat on her couch and her bear paced inside her. She’d promised Mrs. Meadows she’d find Nell. She intended to keep that promise.
Chapter
Seven
The basement gymat Steel Protection was a long concrete room with a heavy bag at one end, a speed bag at the other, a rack of free weights along one wall, and a mat in the middle where the pack sparred.
Blaze had been past the point of training for forty minutes. The wraps on his hands were dark with sweat. His shoulders were burning. His ribs were burning. His knuckles were going to be a mess. He didn’t care. He hit the bag. He stepped. He hit it again.
His wolf had been howling nonstop since the moment Stella had told him to leave the diner. The mate bond was beating inside him like a second heartbeat. He felt her pulling at him like he was a dog at the end of a chain. His mate. Stella had told him to leave, but everything in him told him to go to her. The pressure between those two things was eating him alive.
He thought about the way she’d looked at him like he was a problem and how every step away from her had felt like walking through quicksand. He hit the bag. His wolf howled. The door at the top of the stairs opened, and footsteps sounded on the stairs behind him.
“You’ve been down here a while,” Dom said as he entered the gym.
Blaze hit the bag.
“Yeah.”
“We need to talk.”
“Talk.”
“Stop hitting the bag.”
“I’m not done.”
“Yes, you are.”
Blaze hit the bag.
“Blaze. You’ve been a problem all week and we’re going to fix that now.” Dom sounded like he was about to lose his patience.
Blaze caught the bag and held it. He stood there for a second with his right fist still cocked, his lungs working hard, and his wolf clawing at the inside of his eyes. He let go of the bag and turned. Dom was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching him. Blaze pulled his wraps off with his teeth.
“Talk,” Blaze growled.
“Two days ago, you almost took the head off a bartender at the Fate Mountain Brewery for laughing too loud.”
“I didn’t touch him.”
