Page 144 of Bottles & Blades

“What the fuck is going on?” I snap, stalking over to her.

I sense Cam moving, coming close, but not shifting between us.

Probably because I wouldn’t hurt her and he knows that.

Probably also because Attie is fully capable of handling her own shit.

“I need you to brace,” she says. “To take a breath and calm yourself.”

I shake my head. “Where the fuck is Tiff?”

A soft hand on my arm has the blood rushing up, pounding behind my ears. I can barely hear, barely think, barely process her next words.

“She’s okay.”

Swear to fuck, my knees wobble and it takes everything in me to stay upright.

“But here’s where I need you to be calm.”

I nod tersely.

“We had eyes down here so we saw them grab her from the hall. They drugged her and dragged her into an office.”

I curse, rage burning through me.

They grabbed her?

Druggedher?

And I wasn’t fucking here. Again.Fuck.

“Once that happened, we deployed the team and hauled ass inside?—”

I close my eyes.

“We got there in time,” Attie continues softly. “She’s not hurt.”

“If that’s true,” I grit out, “then wherethe fuckis she?”

“Here, Jean-Mi.”

Every cell in my body freezes. Then I spin, eyes scouring over Tiff, relief spreading through me when I see she’s whole and safe.

“Tell me everything,” I say, not trusting myself to move close to her.

Not when I want to drag her against, yank her out of here, stashing her in my house for all eternity. Where she’ll be safe and looked after and never at risk again.

But she needs me calm and together and focused, not going off half-cocked.

Her face gentles and, of course, she notices how close to the edge I am, of course, she gives me that play, of course, she lets me keep the distance as I strain for control.

Because she’s Tiff.

Smart and sweet and kind and funny and beautiful and?—

Mine.

So, I stand perfectly still as she tells me about hurrying through the quiet hallway, the hands grabbing her, waking with tape over her mouth and tied to a chair.

---