Page 43 of Stepson

“No, ma’am, he’s not here. The last I see in my system is his release from Whitney Penitentiary.”

I let out my breath as I sit on the end of the bed, but her reply doesn’t make me feel all that much better. If he isn’t arrested, where the hell is he?

“Thank you.”

Hanging up, I stare around the room wondering what the hell my next move is. There’s no way to track him, and I have no idea where he is. He also took the SUV, and now I’m stranded here. With nothing else to do, I order an UBER from the app and get dressed, ready to check out of the hotel.

I leave a message with the front desk in case Gabe comes back while I’m gone before I go to my waiting car along the curb. My driver is nice and doesn’t ask many questions as she drives me away from downtown toward the suburbs where I live.

My mind is heavy with thoughts of Gabe. Where the hell is he? I just hope he’s okay. I’ll die if anything bad happens to him. I freaking knew I should have told him who I was, and now it might be too late. What if he did get arrested, and he’s at a different station? What if he got hurt? He made it sound like the neighborhood he was going to was dangerous. Fuck, I hate being helpless.

When my phone rings, I nearly drop it as excitement races through me while I try to answer it. But when I see Marcus’ name on the screen, all the excitement running through me evaporates like steam.

I know I shouldn’t answer the phone, but my fingers have a mind of their own.

“Marcus, hi,” I greet.

“It’s late, why are you still awake?”

I nibble on my bottom lip, looking around for some kind of excuse.

“I couldn’t sleep. Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?”

Perfect. All I have to do is turn the conversation onto him and he’ll forget what he asked me originally. It’s something I often do when Marcus seems angry with me.

“It’s not late here, Bentley. I was going to leave you a voicemail. The meetings were canceled for tomorrow so I’m coming home early. Is my good-for-nothing son still there?”

I swallow, trying so hard not to defend Gabe. I don’t want my husband to know anything about my secret affair with Gabe: his son.

“I think so?” I try to play it cool. “I haven’t seen him much. Is he supposed to be gone?”

He groans. “Yes, he’s supposed to be gone by Thursday. I have an apartment set up for him and told him to leave before I returned. Now that I’m coming home earlier than anticipated, I might have to make arrangements for him.”

“He’s already set up here, Marcus. What’s one more night?”

Silence greets me, and I mentally slap myself.Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“I mean, it’s whatever. I’m sure he can find a place to go for a night, right? I’m excited that you’re coming home early. What time should I expect you tomorrow?”

“Late. I have to go now. Goodnight, Bentley.”

Before I can reply, he hangs up on me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry. I hate him with everything I have. There’s no love between us, and it’s evident. How did I let things get thisfar? Or better yet, how did I let myself stay with someone like him?

The driver stops out front but I go straight to the garage to see if the Mercedes is back yet. When I see that it isn’t, I’m gutted. He isn’t here either. Then my mind goes to the phone call I just had with Marcus and nearly panic. If Gabe isn’t back before Marcus, he’ll be fucking livid. Not only is it obvious he hates his son and wants him out of here, but knowing his son has his favorite car will be disastrous.

Where the fuck are you, Gabe?

When I go inside, it reminds me how lonely my life has become. The house is the size of a small hotel, yet I’m the only one here most nights. Yeah, there are all the workers here during the day, but even then, I still feel alone. There’s nothing about this place that feels like home. It’s a cold shell where I lay my head in a bed I don't share with my husband.

There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep right now. Instead, I head into the kitchen and make myself some tea before I sit at the island, staring at my phone. What can I do? There has to be something. There are two other police departments in the area, but I’m almost too afraid to call them. I don't want to hear that Gabe is in jail.

An idea strikes me, but it probably isn't a very good one.

Breaking into Marcus' spare office on the main floor, I search the key cabinet for the set to the BMW and type in Piper Street into my GPS. I’m going to find Gabe tonight if it’s the last thing I do.

But as I enter the spare garage where the BMW is parked, my eyes freeze on a vehicle with a large black tarp over it. I’m never out here because Marcus doesn't like me driving without my chauffeur. Curiosity kills the cat, and I tear the tarp off, feeling my jaw drop when I come face to face with the Jeep that changed my life forever.

Chapter twenty-three

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