Page 18 of Stolen Love

“We’ll leave. But not until you tell us whether you’ve heard from her.” Because she wouldn’t go completely silent on him unless something happened. They’re too close for that. Always have been.

“Why?”

“Because she was looking into something for me,” I admit. “She found something and she followed her instinct to dig deeper, and now I’m really fucking worried about her safety. But you know how she gets when she’s on a mission to learn the truth. So I need to know if she’s been in contact, because that’s the only way I can be certain that she’s only staying away because she needs to be.”

Martin stumbles back against the cupboards. His hands swing down to stop him from falling and the mug shatters on the tiled floor at his feet. Dark brown liquid spreads across the tiles.

Rebel and Riot both stare at me. “What?”

“Martin?” I need him to answer me. Not stand there looking like he’s seen a ghost.

Martin swallows roughly. “When she didn’t check in this week I told myself it didn’t mean anything, but she never misses a call. Every week without fail since she moved out.”

The world spins and tilts. It takes a moment to regain my steadiness. I rub at the dread building in my chest. “But not this time?”

“No, I…” He steps over the mess as he lights up the phone he pulls from the pocket of his robe. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll…”

No one breathes as that call goes straight to voicemail. He hangs up and tries her number again. Same thing.

“I called her multiple times too.” Praying that the next call would yield a different result, but none of them did. But I’d had hope. I’d had this notion that at least she would contact him even if she’d felt unsafe contacting me.

“You called her multiple times? And you’re only just telling me.” He grabs my collar with both hands. Tea on his breath, he drags me into a stoop. “If my grandbaby is hurt because of you…”

“Did she send you anything?” I fire back. He’s not wrong. If anything happened to her that’s on me and I will never forgive myself. But right now there’s too much at stake to get bogged down in the what ifs. I can only deal in absolutes. Marty is missing. Ivy is in danger. And I am this close to losing everything. “Did she tell you anything about what she was working on the last time she called?”

“I warned her you Maddox boys were bad news,” Martin snarls.

“Anything you remember could be how we find her,” Rebel shoves a palm into both of our chests, prying us apart so he can step between us.

The old man presses his fingers into his forehead, his fingertips turning white from the pressure. His exhale is anguished. “Nothing. She called and said she was on a little trip and that she’d see me when she got home. That’s all.”

Marty could be hurt. Or worse. And I have no clue where to start looking for her. Or how to stop Nicole when all I have is the bare minimum to go on. We’re wasting precious time. I shove both my hands in my hair and stumble through the house and out onto the lawn. “Fuck.”

Boots clatter on the steps behind me as my brothers join me.

“We have to go.” I climb into our ride.

Rebel and Riot jump in as I start the engine. My phone connects and music blasts the speakers as I back the car out of the driveway.

Rebel shakes his head, his lips form a thin slash in his face as he glares at me.What the fuck haven’t you told us?

Chapter Eight

Rogue

I think I want to buy a huge fir and have it delivered to the apartment. We can set it up in the living room and decorate it however Ivy sees fit. Baubles and bows. Bunny ears and beads. Whatever she wants. We’ll surround it with presents. And then we’ll have a small party with just our close friends and family on Christmas Eve to celebrate her twenty-first birthday.

We’ll have a band and a champagne fountain and a cookie decorating station. We’ll be a real Netflix Christmas special. And then I’ll kick everyone out and spend the last hours of her birthday celebrating her and wearing her thighs as ear warmers.

“So basically, you’re saying we’re fucked.” Rebel’s sharp tone brings me back to reality as the elevator hurtles toward the penthouse.

He’s been silent since we pulled out of Martin’s driveway. At first because I had a lot to say. And then because, well, it’s a lot to fucking take in. “I wondered how long it would take you to process.”

“You’re totally fucking screwed,” he reiterates.

“Way to go and be positive about it,” I say. “Where’s the… it’s not that bad, bro. We’ll figure it out… huh?”

“Jokes? Seriously?” He raises an eyebrow and his temple starts to tic.

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