Page 66 of Castle's Cards

As I approach the room, the bouncer nods at me and moves the velvety red rope to allow me through. The moment I step through the threshold, all eyes in the room are on me. But none of them are Addy’s. There’re two tables of poker running as well as a roulette wheel.

“Hello, Mr. Castle,” the hostess on the left says before turning back to the table she’s serving. I nod at her before turning around and heading to Court’s office. I stride in, pushing the door open without a second thought.

Court looks up from the document he’s looking over with Cassie.

“Carter, have you ever considered knocking?”

“Why? Is there a possibility I would have walked in on you and Cassie necking?” I smirk. Cassie looks up at me with disbelief.

“Grow up,” she mutters while picking up a pen and jotting something down on the paper.

“No, it’s just polite. What do you want, anyway? If all the tables are full then you have to wait your turn like everyone else.” Court looks back down at the paper as if dismissing me.

I lean down and cover the paper with my hand.

“Where’s Addy? I know she’s not on break and she’s not on the floor.”

Court looks up but Cassie is the one who answers.

“Addy’s at home. She came in earlier, but when she started to set up she got sick and started throwing up. So I sent her home. Where did you come from that you didn’t know?” Cassie pitches an eyebrow up in question.

I blink. I just came from home, which is how I know for a fact that Addy isn’t there. If she’s not at the club, and she’s not at home, then where is she? I look at Cassie and Court, who are now studying me closely.

There’s no way I can admit that Addy isn’t at home. That will make the fact that she went home sick look suspicious. I look down and chuckle, shaking my head.

“I just came from a meeting about the non-profit. I guess I didn’t think about the idea that she might be at home. Sorry for bursting in here and interrupting your… what are you doing?”

“Looking at details for the fundraising event. We’re thinking about getting food trucks here, so we’re reviewing all our options.”

“I personally think that barbecue food trucks are the best option. Most fitting for the event, you know?” Cassie chimes in, smiling at the two of us. I resist the urge to sigh out loud.

“Right. Everyone knows that nothing goes together better than cancer and pulled pork. I’m going to go check on Addy. See ya.”

Court calls after me as I leave the office, likely to chastise me for my nasty joke, but I don’t stop. Addy isn’t home, and I have to find her. She could be in trouble.

I hop in the car and floor it home, being mindful of other cars on the road as I click Addy’s name on my phone and call her several times. All five times I call it goes straight to voicemail.

“Shit,” I mutter as I pull up to the house. Addy’s car isn’t in the driveway like it usually is, but maybe she parked in the garage. I rush to the front door, throwing it open. The house manager comes down the hall, a look of concern on her face.

“Mr.Castle? Is everything all right?”

She follows me as I hurry to the garage and throw open the door. Addy’s car isn’t in there, as I thought it might be.

“No. Have you seen Addy today?” I whirl around and give her a frantic glance. She shakes her head with urgency.

“Not since she left for work. What’s wrong?”

I ignore her question and stride back out the front door, grabbing my phone out of my pocket. I shoot off a text to Izzy as I get back into my car, closing the door behind me. I can’t take my eyes off the screen as I wait for her response.

What feels like a lifetime is only a minute and a half before Izzy responds, stating that she hasn’t seen Addy since she dropped her off. A follow up text pings my phone, asking if everything is okay.

Guilt spills into me at the idea that I’ve worried Izzy. It wasn’t my intention; I’m just so panicked about finding Addy that I didn’t stop to think about how it might affect Izzy. I send a text, assuring her that everything is fine before pulling out of the driveway as I think through my next move.

My phone rings in the middle of a call with Richard Denseon, the man who knows how to find everything. Or in this case, anyone. When I pull the phone away to see whose interrupting potentially the most important call in the world, my house manager’s name pops up across the screen.

“Hold on, Denseon. I’m getting another call.”

He makes a noise of affirmation as I switch to answering the house manager’s call.

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