Page 2 of Wicked Devotions: Part 2

“Yep, I’m on it. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you.”

I slide the phone in my pocket just as Cyrus walks in the room. He looks back and forth between Emerson and I without saying anything. His normal confident body language has changed and fear wraps its death grip around my heart.

“My bike is gone.” He swallows nervously. “So is my helmet.”

“What?” I prowl toward him. “She doesn’t know how to drive your bike.”

He side steps to put the island between us. “Well,” he holds his palms up, “that’s actually not entirely true.”

Rage coats the fear frozen in my veins. “What?”

“She wanted to learn, so I’ve been giving her lessons here and there. She’s honestly a natural.”

I jump across the island and grab him by the hair piled on top of his head, yanking it to the side. “You taught her how to drive your motorcycle knowing how dangerous it is. Also knowing that it’s the only vehicle we have here without a tracker.”

“I didn’t think she'd run off with it.”

Despite the fact that he has twenty pounds of muscle on me, he doesn’t try to fight me off. He just stands there stoic and ready for whatever punishment I want to dole out. Emerson steps between us, his blue eyes boring into mine.

“Back up.” He’s calm as he puts a hand on my chest and gives me the smallest push. “Fighting each other isn’t going to help anyone. Call Banks. He knows her better than any of us.”

Punching my best friend in the face might not do anything to help, but it would feel fucking amazing.

Cyrus curls his lip as if he can read my mind. “I’ll give you two free punches before I hit you back.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Emerson shoves us both away from each other. “Call Banks. Now.” He pushes me further into the kitchen and then drags Cyrus back outside.

Dragging in a deep breath, I hit Bank’s number. He answers on the first ring.

“Did you get to her before she saw everything?”

“No.” I brace my palms on the edge of the counter and hang my head. “We can’t find her.”

“What?” he yells. “What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“I woke up and saw all your messages, and when we came downstairs, we found her phone on the floor and saw that she got sick in the sink.”

“Is she running? Sometimes she does that to clear her head.”

I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No. At least I doubt it. Cy’s Ducati is missing.”

“She doesn’t know how to drive a motorcycle.”

“I thought that, too, but apparently Cy’s been teaching her.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep. If it were up to me, she wouldn’t even ride it with him, let alone drive it.”

“When we find her, have him ask how many car accidents she’s caused and then see if you want her driving a motorcycle.”

“Speaking of finding her, where would she go?”

“Me. I’d bet money she’s coming here to me.”

I bristle at the thought of her running from us to go find solace in his arms. “Anywhere else?”

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