“You got it, boss. I’m walking out of class right now.” The moment he stops talking, I can tell he’s telling the truth because a feminine voice drifts down the line. “Am I boring you, Mr. Papatonis?”
I don’t hang around long enough to hear his response. Instead, I hang up and call Daemon back, knowing that he probably isn’t at Knight’s Ridge. And I find I’m right when he groggily answers the phone only a few rings later.
“Duty calls, man. Get your arse out of bed. Emmie’s gone.”
“Gone where?” he asks, clearly still half a-fucking-sleep.
“If I fucking knew that, I wouldn’t be calling you to help us find her, would I? Come to her place.”
“Fuck, man. I’ll be there. Give me ten.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, hanging up on him as Piper rejoins us, concern for her stepdaughter written all over her face.
“We’ll find her,” she says to me. “Dawson won’t stop until she’s safe.”
I nod at her, knowing full well that I’ll be standing right by his side until we have her back where she belongs.
She makes us both a coffee while we wait for the others to get here, but despite thinking caffeine was exactly what I needed this morning, my mug goes untouched on the coffee table, getting cold just like the travel mug that’s still sitting in Alex’s car.
One sip and I knew my stomach wouldn’t be able to take it.
The second the bell rings once more, I jump to my feet, racing out to the hallway as Dawson storms toward it.
“What’s going—” Cruz’s words falter when his eyes find mine in the living room door. “On? Why is Cirillo in your house?”
“Because Emmie got fucking abducted from right under his fucking nose.”
I don’t get a chance to blink before the motherfucker is on me.
His forearm presses against my throat, my back against the opposite wall as he glares down at me.
“What the fuck have you done to my niece, you stupid little prick?” he growls, his eyes darkening as I’m sure he imagines a million and one ways he could kill me with his bare hands.
My chest heaves as I fight to drag in the air I need while he squashes my windpipe.
“Leave it, Cruz. If it was Cirillo’s fault, D would have put a bullet through him by now,” Link states.
“I swear to fucking God, kid. If anyone so much as hurts a hair on her head—” He releases me just in time for me to finish that sentence for him.
“I’ll fucking kill them if anyone has laid a fucking finger on my wife.”
Dawson growls behind his brother as I say that final word.
Cruz’s hold on me finally drops.
“I know you think it’s all a joke. I know it looks like a joke. But while our marriage might have started as a farce, what I feel for her isn’t.” The words fall from me far easier than I ever thought they would have.
“I’ve fucked up. I’ve hurt her. I’ve let her get away, even if it was with you.” I look between Dawson and Cruz, knowing that they’re the reason I lost her in the first place. “But I care just as much as you do. I need her safe just as much as you do.”
“Doubtful, kid, but I appreciate your effort.” Cruz looks me up and down once more, judging me as I stand here in a pair of sweats and a hoodie.
It’s not exactly the uniform I prefer to work in, but I’m not wasting fucking time going home to pull on my armour.
“What happened?” he asks, nodding to my head.
“We were run off the road. I passed out. When I came to, she was gone, along with the car that forced us into the ditch,” I say, giving him the CliffsNotes.
“Who was it?”