Page 52 of Heston
His place wasn’t that big. She couldn’t have gone far. Maybe she was in the garage? Though why, he didn’t know. He’d been in too big of a hurry to get her inside last night, and his car was still in the driveway. Hurriedly, he threw on a pair of athletic pants and a clean white t-shirt, then the ragged pair of running shoes beside his bed. Her clothes and shoes were gone. Damn.
Hammering down the steps from his loft, he cleared the common area with one sweeping glance, then hit the kitchen to verify what he already knew. London wasn’t there.
He jerked the door to the garage open and flipped ton he overhead lights. Not there, either.
Panic started tapping his shoulder. Doubt crept in. She wouldn’t have walked out again. She wouldn’t do that to him, would she? Back at his front door, he jerked it open—too easily. It wasn’t locked, yet he distinctly recalled engaging the deadbolt last night.
The tapping at his shoulder morphed into full-blown panic.
“London,” he bellowed as he ran to the end of his walk and looked both ways down the street. God, he wished it had snowed. Then there’d be tracks. But it didn’t snow in Virginia in September and London was nowhere in sight.
“Shit,” he hissed. A quick glance over his shoulder zeroed in on his car. If she’d run again…
“No,” he said, if only to convince himself. “Not this time. She didn’t leave me. She wouldn’t. She loves me. We’re getting married. Either she’s just gone for a morning run or she went somewhere to grab breakfast for us. That’s all. I’m panicking fornothing. I trust her. She’ll be back. I know she will. She wouldn’t just leave like—”
Last time.
But she was gone and she’d left no note. She used to at least tell him where she was going. Back then, he’d loved finding her decorated scraps of notes. She ended each one with Xs and Os or hearts. Lots of hearts. But this morning? Nothing.
Heston took off running, quartering each well-kept yard he flew past, scanning ahead, hoping he’d see her pretty ass ahead of him. She’d preferred to run before the sun came up and traffic got in her way. Back in Killeen, she’d pound out as many as five miles on a good morning. She’d come home sweaty but exhilarated. Sometimes he’d run with her. But she preferred to run alone. It was her time to get her head right. To think clearly. To plan her day and focus on her coursework.
Damn. Where could she be?
Heston circled the few blocks of his subdivision. Once upon a time, it had been part of an industrial area. Now it was mostly gentrified, but with an emphasis on low-income and middle-income housing. The few warehouses left from the fifties hadn’t been repurposed into swanky bars or elite hangouts, where only the rich could afford to dance and eat. Instead, the upper floors were opened to middle-class malls, Mom and Pop diners, eclectic boutiques, bookstores, shoe stores, you name it. Gas stations, doctor and dental offices, necessary stuff like that. What had once been the rundown, neglected part of town had been turned into a no-kidding neighborhood where people knew each other.
A good neighborhood, but a neighborhood where Heston still couldn’t locate London. He widened his search. The sun was high overhead when he barreled into Le Petite Sunrise Sweets Confectionary. The noon crowd was there, most of them sittingat the pink and gold bistro tables across from the bakery display case.
Charlee O’Donnell called out a cheery, “Good afternoon, Heston!” from behind the counter. “Are you back for more donuts? Already?”
“Good, they were good, yeah,” he answered automatically. He stepped to the counter and instantly recanted. “Actually, we haven’t eaten them yet, but—” he let his gaze sweep the bakery’s interior one more time— “have you seen a pretty woman with short turquoise-colored hair today? She’s about your height and she’s always smiling. Same color eyes as hair, well almost. She might’ve run this way. I don’t know.” His fingertips drummed the countertop.
Charlee’s expression turned serious. “No, I haven’t, but it’s Saturday, and I’ve been extra busy. Weekends are my money-making days. Who is she?”
“London Wilde.” He swallowed hard, not ready to divulge too much information. He went to tug his wallet out of his rear pocket to show her the picture of London he always carried, only—
His pockets were empty. No wallet. No cell phone.Shit.He’d left home with nothing but panic. Rapping his knuckles on the counter, he told Charlee, “Never mind. Just thought she might’ve come this way. You, umm, wouldn’t have a security camera, would you?”
“I’m sorry, no. It’s a pretty safe neighborhood so I haven’t invested in one yet. I know I should for insurance purposes, but right now every cent I make goes back into my business.” She wiped her fingers on the towel in her hand. “I’ve got your number so if I see her, I’ll let you know. Go home and grab your phone. Hey, maybe she’s already gone back to your place.”
“Good thinking. I’ll check. See you later.”
“Bye, Heston. Good luck finding your lady friend.”
God, he hoped he did. He took off running when he hit the sidewalk. If she wasn’t at his place, she hadn’t left voluntarily. He’d barely hit his front walk after he’d retrieved his cell phone and wallet, when a bright, arrest-me-red Jeep screeched to a stop at his curb. Could only be Harley Mortimer.
Sure enough. The TEAM’s senior agent reached over the console and shoved the passenger door open with a curt, “Get in!”
Didn’t have to ask Heston twice. He jumped in to ride shotgun. “London’s missing,” he blurted. “I’ve been all over the neighborhood. I can’t find her.”
“Yeah, well…” Harley stomped on the gas, turning his Jeep into a rocket.
The sudden acceleration jerked Heston back into his seat. “You know where she is, don’t you?”
“Not precisely, but we will soon. Been calling you for a gawddamned hour.” Harley jerked the steering wheel, and an illegal Indy 500 race was on. Harley wasn’t his usual teasing self this morning. At the intersection, he ran the red light and swerved into oncoming traffic. He didn’t slow down on the road to TEAM HQ, either.
“We got home late last night,” Heston explained. “We were tired. When I woke up, she was gone. I was worried and ran out without my phone, so sue me. What’s going on?”
By then Harley had slammed on the brakes, parked the Jeep, and was taking the steps into TEAM HQ three at a time, waving for Heston to hurry up.
