Page 81 of Under Your Scars
“Yeah, Gavin, I know. She left me and took off with my car. What the fuck does it matter?”
He huffs. “The GPS tracker went offline downtown. Thought you’d want to know the MCPD were called out to work a major accident in the area involving a black McLaren.”
That makes me pause and blow my smoke into his face before pushing past him. “Why the fuck are you just now telling me this?”
“I’ve been trying to call you about it for fifteen minutes.” Gavin sighs as he trails me. “Police scanner’s pretty vague but they haven’t called any ambulances yet.”
“Yeah? That’s because they’re saving them for you after I rip your spine out of your back for not telling me sooner. If there is so much as a hair missing from her head, you’re dead.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket to call Elena, but there’s no answer.
Fuck.
Fuck,fuck,fuck.
Snuffing out my cigarette in one of the ashtrays in the foyer, I jog to the garage and grab the keys for an Escalade and pull up the location information Gavin texted to me. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive.
I make it there in eight.
My hair falls onto my forehead in messy strands. My hands are tight around the steering wheel, the smooth leather warping and groaning under my grip.
No ambulances my ass.My McLaren is fuckingupside down.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter to myself.
I lunge out of my car, barely remembering to put it in park before I’m running towards the car. An officer catches me by the arm and yanks me back.
“No civilians,” he shouts into my face like I’m not two fucking feet from him. I shrug his grip off my and give him a snarl. I take another step towards the car, and he grabs me again. “You deaf or something? Back off.”
“You must be new here,” I tell him, glancing down at the fabric of his uniform. No decorations. No awards. No medals. Rookie. I pull my ID out of my wallet and flash it at him. His eyes go wide with realization. “That is my car, so get your hands off me.”
He lets me go, and I hear him mutter a quiet ‘prick’under his breath. I get closer to my McLaren, three officers huddled around it talking amongst themselves. Thankfully, one of them recognizes me.
“Mr. Reeves,” he greets.
“Where did you take them?”
“What?”
Is he fucking serious right now?
I enunciate each word carefully. “Theoccupants. Which hospital did you take them to? Elena Young was driving, where is she?”
He furrows his brow and pulls out a notepad from his pocket. “Elena…Young, you say? Do you know her middle name or date of birth?”
“Elena Louise Young, February 11, 1990.Where.Is.She?” I ask again, my patience thinner than a razor.
“Sir, there were no occupants when we got here.”
“What?”
“The accident was called in by someone going through the intersection, and when we got here, there were no occupants in either car.”
“What the fuck do you mean,there were no occupants? She didn’t just vanish into thin air!” I growl and let out a roar of frustration. “Fucking useless pigs.”
“I’m going to need you to step away now, Mr. Reeves,” the cop says, glaring at me angrily.
That’s when I hear it. Elena’s panic alarm.
