Page 9 of Hold Me Before You Go

“So, Carrie’s dead husband, Robert Hale, was having an affair with his high school sweetheart, who followed him to St. Louis?” he asked, seeking confirmation.

I looked at him over my shoulder as I folded my arms over my chest. “Yes.”

“And your boy just happened to make the connection right before or during Carrie’s kidnapping.”

Peeling my gaze from him, I returned my attention to the window, watching as a black SUV swung into the parking lot.

Hayes was here.

The organ in my chest ached once more as I felt my shoulders sag. Suddenly, I realized I couldn’t face this alone. The danger, sure, but the mere possibility of Carrie being hurt or worse was poisoning me from the inside out. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I watched as Hayes folded himself out of the vehicle, his jaw set as his short, dirty blond hair shifting in the wind.

Fuck, I needed him here more than I’d realized.

Once he disappeared around to the front of the building, I moved, turning and heading out of Michael Humbly’s office just time to see my partner and friend at the front desk of the station. His eyes lifted to mine, and I was greeted with a familiar cold rage swirling within his green eyes. He was dressed in all black, a heavy backpack on his shoulder.

“That’s one of yours, I assume,” Humbly guessed from beside me.

“Hayes Mitchell,” I stated, lifting my chin to him.

“He can come back, Dorothy,” Humbly called out to the old woman at the front desk. She simply nodded, and Hayes moved around the counter.

I stepped forward, holding my hand out to him. “Thanks for getting here quickly,” I said.

Hayes slapped his hand against mine. “Anything for you, Gray. You know that.”

After introductions were made, Humbly took us to the station’s small meeting room, and Hayes immediately went to the whiteboard, jotting down the new information he’d learned.

“Where’s the drone?” I asked his back.

He pointed to his pack as he continued writing down what looked to be flight paths. “Pull that laptop out for me,” he ordered, his eyes focused.

“Are there reasons you’re writing down flight paths for New Jersey?” Humbly asked from the door, his brows furrowed as he studied Hayes.

Hayes turned, his eyes landing on the sheriff before coming to me. “He caught up?”

I nodded once, pulling out the laptop and opening it. Once the screen came to life, I was given a first-person view of the drone on the left side of the screen. “It’s there,” I noted, clicking on the video footage. The drone had landed on the roof, waiting for instruction.

“She’s small, but she’s fucking fast,” Hayes confirmed before turning back to Humbly. “To answer your question, Monica Larks, our top suspect, has been making daily phone calls to a Jersey number, and when our tech man, Jake, pulled the signal taps, it directed us to an abandoned building in the heart of Jersey City. Grayson wanted eyes on it.”

Humbly looked at me then. “And your man here can just get your eyes on anything you want in a matter of hours?” he asked, leaving the most important part of the question hanging in the air. Michael Humbly may be young, but he was smart. He had a good head on his shoulders, and despite everything, I had to respect that.

“Yes.”

His eyes flashed, his lips thinning. “Is this legal?”

“No, and neither was me threatening your life, but here we are,” I deadpanned.

Humbly opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by Hayes. “Have you contacted St. Louis yet?”

I looked at him, leaning back in my chair. Hayes was standing at the head of the table, his eyes fierce, arms crossed over his chest, looking like the leader he was born to be.

“No, I haven’t.” That was a call I was dreading making. Jeremy would most likely put a hit out on me. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. I’d promised him Carrie was safe and settled. The prince of St. Louis also had no idea I’d fallen for her in the process of making sure she was safe and settled. Leaning forward, I scrubbed my hand down my face. I shouldn’t be sitting in a police station, surrounded by warmth. I should be on the road, chasing after my sunshine. However, I couldn’t do that.

A good hunter knew what he was hunting, and I needed more information on Monica Larks. Before I’d come to the station, while I was on the phone with Jake, he informed me that the number Larks had been using was no longer in service. Her last known ping was just outside of Portland last night. However, there was a possibility Larks may head back to St. Louis. That was where she and Robert had spent the majority of their affair, after all.

“I need to get on a plane to St. Louis,” I declared, scratching my short beard.

Hayes pinned me with a look. “You think that’s wise?”

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