“She’s what?”
“Gone. Some of her stuff is missing. Luggage. Not all of it.”
“Her books?” I said,
“Yeah, that stuff is all gone.”
“Who was on the door last night?” I asked dangerously.
“Joey.”
“Take him off rotation but keep him here, under guard. We are going to have words. After I find her,” I said with finality, standing and straightening my clothes. We both knew Joey was in for a world of pain. “Actually, I should talk to him first. I just need to make a call.”
“I’ll bring him to the quiet room, boss.”
I nodded as I dialed Cain’s number. He had helped Vincent out when his woman went on the run. He could help me.
There was no way in hell that girl was getting away from me.
Twenty minutes later I was deciding whether or not to use the bat that I held in my hands. Joey looked pasty. Green almost. He was in a cold sweat.
And I hadn’t even started working on him yet.
“Where did she say she was going?”
“She didn’t. But I heard her tell the cabbie to take her to the Grand Hotel.”
“You mean, she let you hear her say that.”
“Yeah. I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to leave, boss. I swear.”
I stared at him, then checked my phone. I’d already sent guys to the hotel and notified Cain. Trace was on it. Vice was on his way here with a team.
I had her class schedule. If all else failed I suspected I would find her there. I hoped so, anyway. If she had truly run, I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do.
Not only was she my responsibility, but I was in love with her.
I didn’t want to live without her.
I couldn’t.
“I will be back in a little while to see if you remember anything else,” I said, handing Tiny the bat. He raised his eye in question and I shook my head. I wasn’t going to beat the shit out of the kid, even though I wanted to. Not yet. “If anything happens to her,” I said mildly. “There will be repercussions.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Theresa
I typed out notes as Professor Wainwright expounded on the basics of medical ethics. He was one of the foremost minds in the field. Getting to learn from him was a privilege.
Most of the newer theories came from him. He really was incredible, I thought as I pounded the keyboard. And I was getting to learn at his knee, as it was.
I had barely slept the night before, but three cups of very strong coffee at the hotel breakfast bar had me at least alert enough to transcribe notes. Professor Wainwright liked to keep them for himself, and made them available to any students who had to miss class. Of course, you had to admit to missing class, and attendance was something he didn’t bother to keep track of.
‘Cream rises to the top’ he said. That had struck me as somewhat fatalistic. Some people needed a nudge in the right direction. Some people didn’t even know how to keep their eyes on the prize.
Class ended and students started to shuffle out. I was packing up when Professor Wainwright waved me forward.
“You look nice today,” he said, as he usually did. There was nothing predatory about it, however. Just a warm appreciation. Nothing like the blazing hot looks that Michael gave me…
Do not think about him, Terri. Do. Not.
“Don’t forget to send me those notes.”
“Already did,” I said with a plucky smile. My life might be in shambles, but this was something I could do. This was one thing I wasn’t blowing.
“What would I do without you?”
I just smiled again, feeling pleased. It was nice to be appreciated. And when his hand settled over mine, all I did was stare at it.
“Let me thank you… properly,” he said, with a little caress of his thumb. “Are you free this evening for dinner and drinks?”
“She is not,” the voice came from behind me. I inhaled sharply, my eyes lifting to see Professor Wainwright’s face turn white as a sheet. “Move your hand if you want to keep it.”
I gasped and jerked away, turning to face Michael. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring over my shoulder.
“Don’t you think you better go home to your wife, Professor?”
I glared at him, furious. Not that I wanted to have dinner with my professor. But I could have handled it.
And now he was ruining any hope of me keeping my position as student teacher, damn him!
I heard Professor Wainwright stammer out something about needing to get home. A couple of papers drifted to the ground.
“I just need to get my papers…”
“Leave them,” came the clipped reply.
And he did. I hadn’t imagined the Professor could move that quickly. Not that he was old. But he didn’t have the raw masculine power that Michael had. Few did.