Page 113 of Bad Blood

“No. He didn’t show.”

“What?” I drop onto the mattress, letting her words sink in as I stop with my other foot halfway in my shoe.

“His appointment was at eight.”

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?” The alarm on the nightstand shows it’s a little after nine. I try to keep my irritation under wraps, but I’m having difficulty figuring out why she’d wait so long.

“I figured he was running late. His voicemail isn’t set up. I tried—”

“When?” I interrupt. “When was the last time you tried?”

“About fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t want to get you involved if it was nothing.”

Why won’t he answer her calls?

“It’s not like him not to show up,” I half-mumble under my breath. “Fuck.”

She huffs into the mouthpiece. “Look, I can send someone to do a wellness visit, but it could take a couple of hours, and you’ll be home by then. I’d be willing . . .” She pauses. “If you want, I can run by your apartment and check on Liam myself. I don’t want to cross any lines, but”—she clears her throat—“I’d do that for you.”

I imagine her pacing the hallway of the hospital, her fingernails in her mouth.

What if Dani has something to do with this?

My heart plunges to my toes.

Fuck me.

I told him to stay home. But he never listens. I try not to focus on the disasters unraveling in my mind, but I can only picture him injured or worse. I shake my head, trying to distract myself. “It’s not safe.”

“What? Why?” Worry fills her voice. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Stay put. I’ll call the doorman. I don’t want you to go over there.”

Hurt is evident when she replies. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a lot to explain. Let me call him. I’ll call you right back.”

“No, don’t hang up.” Her voice is shrill, unsure.

“Maybe he’s not answering because he doesn’t recognize your number,” I say, doubting that’s the reason.

“But why hasn’t he shown up?”

I toss my duffel bag over my shoulder as I race through the door. I’m at the end of the hall, jamming my finger into the elevator call button before I answer. “I don’t know. Let me call you back.”

I don’t wait for her response. I hang up and call Liam.

It rings and rings and rings.

No answer.

Fuck.

Why the fuck doesn’t he have his voicemail set up?

“Anything?” Brighton asks, answering on the first ring.

“No.”

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