Page 31 of Grant’s Heat

“I’m not sure. Maybe? I don’t know. I’ve never seen her check out this badly. Normally she comes right back.” My friend gave the answer in a hushed voice, sounding a million miles away instead of the two feet he actually was.

I’m standing right here, motherfuckers.

And my husband is dead.

Dead? No. No. This can’t be happening. This can’t be…

I couldn’t breathe. I had to go. I had to leave. Now.

I threw the chart at the doctor, hitting him in the middle of the chest, causing the papers to flutter to the ground like a two-dimensional snowstorm. Then I bolted for the door, making sure to topple two of the miserable chairs behind me to deter Grant from closing in on me too quickly.

I ran. I ran as fast as my shaky legs would carry me—toward the door we came in—but barreled right into the one and only Sebastian Shark on the way. I reared back and glared when I realized who was gripping my arms to steady me.

“You!” I seethed and then spit in his face. “I hate you!” I screamed the words as loud as my voice could manage and wrenched from his grip. Air sawed in and out of my burning lungs while my chest heaved up and down. “You…you greedy, selfish bastard! I hate you!”

Calmly, Sebastian wiped his face with a handkerchief he’d conveniently pulled from his breast pocket. Of course he did. Because everything always came up roses for this guy. He was Sebastian fucking Shark.

“Rio!” Grant yelled my name from the corridor behind us, and whatever few sets of eyes weren’t already watching now focused on seeing the scene unfold. Camera phones were being pulled out of bags as quickly as they could be found by searching hands alone. No one dared to take their eyes off the action.

“Hold on to her, Bas. She’s freaking out!” Grant shouted, jogging toward us.

Sebastian eyed me cautiously, really considering his next move. “You don’t say,” he said dryly to his best friend.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” I growled. “And if you want to keep your balls intact, step out of my way.”

Wisely, the man held his hands up in surrender and stepped to the side, clearing my path to the front door. I didn’t stop running until I reached my car and was behind the wheel, frantically readjusting the seat so I could reach the gas pedal and clutch.

In my rearview mirror, as I took a sharp turn out of the lot—nearly on two wheels—I saw Grant standing there, hands grabbing fitfully at his hair, his blue eyes filled with storms of torment and fear.

And maybe rightfully so. Things were about to get messy.

Hot and messy.

Chapter Six

Grant

From the moment her little car had disappeared from sight, I’d felt like a hysterical parent who’d lost their child in a crowded shopping mall. Panicked thoughts ping-ponged in my brain about her safety. Nervous fear extinguished sparks of hope each time my cell phone rang or vibrated with an incoming message, only to see or hear a memo from a concerned friend instead of Rio.

Calls to her phone went straight to her voicemail. The thing wasn’t even ringing at that point. Now, just her pixie-bright voice delivered the ridiculous greeting I always teased her about. My heart ached when I thought of the difference between her anguished voice from earlier this afternoon and the melodic one I heard when I dialed her number.

I stabbed the End Call button and tossed my phone onto the brand-new downtown condo’s kitchen counter. It was the only address I could recall when sliding into the back of the Uber at Cedars, and I’d been pacing laps around the modern kitchen ever since.

When my phone vibrated, I answered it without looking at the screen. “Rio?”

“Hey there. No, it’s Abbi,” Sebastian’s woman said from the other end of the call. “You…you still haven’t heard from her?”

“No.” I sighed. “I’m guessing you haven’t either, then?”

She cut into the call with a sharp, painful sob. “Grant, you need to find her!”

“I know.” I stabbed a hand through my hair—for the hundredth time in the last couple of hours. “Goddammit, I know.”

“She really shouldn’t be alone, and Sebastian won’t let me go out to look for her.”

“He’s right,” I said. “You need to take care of yourself and the baby. We don’t need a second tragedy tonight. I’ve just been trying to come up with a plan. Places to go look so I’m not backtracking my steps when I do head out. Do you have any ideas about where she might go?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice swelled with despair. “Maybe the kitchen in Inglewood?”