Page 43 of Muzzled

He plugged in his phone and backed out of his parking space.

Nothing new.

She’d texted the same message every day since he’d left her on Wednesday.

Nothing. New.

Night after night, he’d prowled her neighborhood, staying clear of her windows to give her the space she needed. But he’d been there, the knowledge she was safe under his watch making the absence of her voice and her smile bearable.

But she wasn’t safe now. He’d left her unguarded while he showered and napped, and now she was missing.

He pulled onto the road and tapped her number, listening to it ring over and over until it went to voicemail. Switching to his messenger app, he tapped on her name and placed his phone on his thigh, glancing between his cell and the road as he typed.

Where are you?

He eased onto a side street and parked, then jogged toward Eleventh Street where Logan stood, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he scanned the smattering of people walking along the sidewalks.

“Any word?”

Logan shook his head. “She texts me when she’s going to be late,” he muttered, taking his ball cap off to run his hand through his hair. “It’s her rule. If anyone’s going to break it, it’s me.”

They began walking back down the side street, Logan watching the alleys while Ryan watched the rooftops. “Any ideas on where she might go? Art galleries? Coffeehouses? Parks?” His phone buzzed and he swiped his thumb across it, his heart pounding in his ears.

*

Hey there, hound.I’m sipping champagne with your mistress and let me tell you, it is quite the production.

“Dammit,” he muttered, turning toward his car. “You head home and wait. I don’t know where she is, but I know who she’s with.”

*

Micah set herglass down and ran her finger along the rim, feigning interest while Persephone launched into her second hour of lamentation regarding her “boys.”

Alex really needed to pick up the pace on his proposal plans.

Alex’s girlfriend, Charlotte, needed to stop wearing her park ranger uniform since it was absolutely hideous in color, unflattering, and didn’t complement her boy’s skin tone.

Bo’s wife wasn’t taking good care of him. Which Seph knew instinctively, but couldn’t prove. But she knew he was doing his own laundry sometimes and ate food out of a can for supper once a week while that wife of his cavorted around at school.

Bo himself was still holding down a job that left his hands stained with grease, and he was so obviously above such menial, filthy work.

And then there was Ryan.

Ryan wassuch a good boy. So loyal. So reliable. Not as wildly pretty as her twins, of course, but he was far more regal, a perfect representative of the royalty he represented. Didn’t she think so? Ofcourseshe did.

Micah hadn’t spoken more than three or four words since Persephone had accosted her on the street, wrapping her manicured hands around her arm and chattering a mile a minute about taking some time to “bond.”

Bond was a loose term.

Sprinkled amid the praise for her boys and the cheery insults about their partners were the veiled threats, the subtle warnings to keep Ryan at arm’s length because he wasn’t meant for her.

He was, after all, adeity. Albeit a lesser one than Seph was.Obviously.

She glanced down at her phone, grateful for the waiter who had offered to charge it in the back room when it died on her shortly after their arrival.

Location?

Persephone was too busy reviewing her dessert options with the server to notice her as she slipped her phone onto her lap.

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