Page 74 of Parker

Quinn’s ex may think he has the upper hand, but Parker was about to prove him wrong.

The door to his left buzzed, followed by a loud metallic click. Rolling his shoulders back, Parker steadied his stance and prepared to meet the prick who’d been terrorizing the woman Parker loved.

And yeah, he loved Quinn. More than anything. Which was the whole reason he was here.

The door to the room opened, but instead of the face he’d expected to see, a different man stepped into the room.

“Mr. Collins.” The balding, overweight man shook Parker’s hand with vigor. “I’m William Pollard, the warden here at FCI. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A low nagging twinged inside his gut. “Pleasure’s mine, Warden.”

“Please.” The man dropped his clammy hand. “Call me Bill.”

“All right, Bill. And you can call me Parker.” He looked at the door behind the other man. “I was actually expecting to see an inmate of yours. Justin Reynolds?”

“Yes, well…I mean, the thing is…” Bill’s forehead beaded with sweat, and he wiped his palms along the front of his cheap dress pants. Clearing his throat, the nervous man finally spit out what he’d been struggling to say. “You see, that’s the reason I’m here.”

The nagging grew in strength as Parker gave that door a second glance. “Warden, where is Reynolds?”

When the man hesitated a second time, it became clear that there was a problem. And from the amount of endless sweat covering his shiny forehead, it was a big one.

“Mr. Collins, please. You have to understand. My prison houses over thirteen hundred inmates. The system we use to keep track of everyone is new, but every employee was thoroughly trained and knows how to work it. I can assure you, we’re doing everything in our power, but—”

“Where. Is. Reynolds?” Parker stepped into the man’s face. Voice low and controlled, the sharp demand cut off the warden’s rambling excuse.

Breaths audible, the sweaty man stared back at him and shook his head. Fear shimmered in his round, dark eyes as Warden Pollard admitted, “We don’t know.”

His heart punched his ribs, the unexpected answer sending him stumbling back a step. “What the hell do you mean, youdon’t know?”

Opening the door, Pollard led him back through the maze of hallways and doors. Rushing to explain, he tripped all over himself as they walked. The man used words like intake system error, investigation, appropriate notifications…

But Parker hadn’t really heard them.

He was too busy working through the massive what-the-fuck still racing through his head.

Somehow Justin Reynolds had vanished. The man—a fucking federal prisoner—had managed to escape.

Pollard opened the last door, and the two men entered the visitor intake area Parker had left minutes earlier. Wasting no time retrieving his personal belongings, he paid no attention to the kiss-ass warden or his continued blathering of justifications.

Removing his phone, keys, and wallet from the metal bowl stationed beneath the glass partition, Parker spun on his heels and headed for the door.

“Rest assured Mr. Collins.” Pollard was hot on his heels. “I will find out what happened, and those responsible will be held accountable. I’ve already contacted the FBI, and a BOLO has been issued for Reynolds. We will find him.”

“No, Warden. I will.”

“Wha…what do you mean by that? Mr. Collins, wait!”

Refusing to listen to another damn word the incompetent man spewed from behind, Parker gave the glass door a hard shove and stormed outside. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he ignored the copious number of notifications littering his lock screen and tapped Quinn’s name from his contact list.

He put the phone to his ear and waited.

Come on, sweetheart. Pick up.

After an endless round of rings with no response, he put a call into Asher. Five rings later, and…

“This is Cross. You know what to do.”

Goddamn it!

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