Page 101 of Coach
She wasn’t fucking there.
I heard Colter’s bike making its way down the main street and ran back through the house. Carefully gathering Trix in my arms, I rushed outside just as he was walking toward the house.
“Shit. She’s really out of it,” he said, moving ahead of me to open the trunk for Trix.
“Yeah. You remember the way to the animal hospital?” I asked, digging inside the trunk compartment for a spare gun stashed there.
“Yeah,” Colter said, eyeing the gun. “You sure you’re good?”
“Fine,” I said, the word bit off between clenched jaws. “Get Trix treatment. And keep me updated.”
With that, we exchanged keys.
I waited until he peeled off before reaching for my phone again.
I shot off a text to Slash, telling him that Este was missing and that I was going to figure out where the fuck she went.
Then I turned off my ringer.
Because I wasn’t about to listen to him telling me to wait for backup, to think clearly, to tamp down the rage that was burning through my veins like battery acid.
I tucked my phone away.
I checked the gun before I slipped it into my waistband.
Then I let the fucking fire catch and burn as I tore down the street.
There was a light on in the office side of the pool hall, but I knew better from the looks on their faces than to trust that they would simply open the door if I knocked.
Adrenaline surging through me, I grabbed the metal trash can out front, lifted it up, and sent it sailing through the front door.
My gun was in my hand before I even made it through the new opening I’d created.
“Where the fuck is she?” I roared, gun aimed at the brothers through the glass wall separating the office from the rest of the pool hall.
“Whoa,” Mikhail said, holding up both hands. “Coach, relax.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking relax,” I snarled, moving into the doorway. “Where the fuck is Este?”
“What makes you think we would know that?” Konstantin, cool even with a gun aimed at his throat, asked.
“Because you were the one to fuck up her face. And those marks on her mouth? A gag, right?”
My voice was shaking.
My arm was shaking.
My fuckingsoulfelt like it was shaking.
“She wasn’t supposed to tell you about that,” Mikhail said, exhaling hard.
“You motherfucker,” I snarled, stepping forward until the gun was pressed to his forehead. “What did you do to her?”
“We talked,” Konstantin said.
“Talking doesn’t put marks on a woman’s face.”
“Admittedly, we planned to do more,” Konstantin went on. “But it turned out we had the wrong person.”
