Page 59 of The Dating Coach
The words hit me like a body check. My pen slipped from my fingers as I found Henry's gaze across the room. We'd talked about this scenario in hushed conversations, planned for it, but seeing it actually happen felt surreal.
"How long can you buy us?" I asked Frank, already standing.
"Five minutes, maybe ten if I'm creative."
"Do it." I turned to Henry, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Back exit. Get her to the safe house."
Henry was already moving before I finished speaking.
The team moved with practiced efficiency born from months of protecting our own. Jesse and Tyler shifted to block sight lines to the back door while Henry slipped out to find Mia in the study room. Marcus pulled up legal resources on his laptop, ready to document anything that happened.
I moved downstairs to find exactly what I'd feared – a middle-aged man in a cheap suit holding a laminated ID and a photo of Mia.
"Can I help you?" I asked, blocking his view of the house with my body.
"Tom Morrison, private investigator." He flashed his credentials like they meant something. "I'm looking for Mia Spears. Her parents are concerned about her wellbeing."
"Don't know anyone by that name," I said evenly. "This is a hockey house. We don't get many guests here."
His eyes narrowed. "That's interesting, because I have multiple witnesses placing her at this address. And you're Liam Delacroix, right? Dating her sister?"
"I date a lot of people," I lied smoothly. "Hockey player stereotype and all that."
"Mr. Delacroix, I'm not here to cause trouble. The Spears family just wants to know their daughter is safe. She's had... struggles with mental health. They're worried she might hurt herself."
The casual lie, the implication that Mia was unstable rather than escaping abuse, made my jaw clench. But I kept my expression neutral.
"Like I said, don't know her. But if you want to leave your card, I can ask around."
He studied me for a long moment, clearly not buying it. "You know harboring a runaway is a crime, right?"
"Good thing she's eighteen," I said before I could stop myself.
His smile turned predatory. "So you do know her."
"I know she's legally an adult," I corrected. "Hard to be a runaway when you're old enough to vote. Now unless you have a warrant..."
"I don't need a warrant to investigate," he started, trying to peer past me into the house.
"Actually, you do need one to enter private property," Marcus called from upstairs, laptop open to trespassing laws. "And fun fact – lying about someone's mental health status to gain information is defamation. Very sue-able."
Morrison's face flushed. Behind him, I noticed several of my teammates had emerged from the rooms, creating a casual but imposing presence around him. The implied threat – half the hockey team versus one middle-aged PI – wasn't subtle.
"This isn't over," Morrison said finally. "The family has resources. They'll keep looking."
"Let them look," I said. "They won't find someone who doesn't want to be found."
He left with more threats about legal consequences and moral obligations, but I barely heard them. The moment his car disappeared, I was calling Gemma.
"He was here," I said without preamble when she answered. "Private investigator. Asking about Mia."
"Is she—"
"Safe. Henry got her out. They're at the campus center." I ran a hand through my hair, adrenaline still coursing. "Gemma, this is escalating."
"I know," she said quietly. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
Just as I hung up, my phone buzzed again. Coach Jack's name flashed on the screen.
