Page 55 of Saved from Obsession

I wrap up the call and refocus on the road and getting back to Georgia. I know I’m being overprotective, but ever since yesterday, my protective instincts have rocketed into overdrive. Once I see her, can hold her and make sure she’s doing okay, I’m sure this weight on my chest will ease.

* * *

Walkingdown the hallway to my apartment, I’m second guessing my decision not to buy flowers for Georgia. I thought about it as I got off the exit, and again when I saw the florist was still open, but I didn’t want to delay getting home any longer. Now that I’m just about to see her, though, I wish I had something nice to make up for the hours I was gone.

Not that she complained when I left. Georgia swore she would be fine, would keep herself busy, and that I should go to the prison as soon as possible. And I believed her. Except, Istillhaven’t heard from her.

Couldshe be mad that I left? But that doesn’t sound like Georgia. Is she upset? Did something trigger a flashback? I know she’s safe here—the Blade and Arrow building is heavily secured and no one could even try to break in without being detected.

Cole and Rylan are here, too. So if there was any sign of threat, they would handle it. And Cole said everything was okay when I talked to him less than an hour ago, so there’s really no reason for me to be so worried.

It’s just, IknowGeorgia, and she wouldn’t ignore me for hours for no reason. But whatever it is, I’ll deal with it. I’ll help her through whatever she’s going through, apologize if I did something wrong, and go back out to buy flowers if I need to.

Hoping it’s just an overreaction, but bracing myself for whatever awaits me, I unlock the door and walk into my apartment. I scan the open living space, my gaze bouncing from the kitchen, across the dining area, and into the living room. No Georgia.

The apartment is almost eerily quiet—no drone of a TV on low in the bedroom, no patter of water spraying in the shower, no rustle of footsteps or any other sound that would indicate anyone being here.

Maybe she’s napping, like Cole said. So I head down the hall and peer inside my bedroom, but Georgia’s not there, the bedcovers are smoothed flat, and the attached bathroom is open and empty. I check the other bedroom and it’s the same as the first. Still no Georgia.

The niggle of worry burrows deeper, but I’m not going to panic yet. She could be visiting with Maya again. Or maybe Georgia ventured down to the gym. I haven’t shown it to her yet, but maybe Rylan did. She could have decided to go down there to practice.

If I start panicking and running around headquarters calling for Georgia just to find her working out in the basement, I’ll come across like a paranoid and overprotective boyfriend. Which I am, but I’d rather not have Georgia see it in action. Yet.

If she’s not in the basement…No. I’m sure that’s where she is.

And when I walk back into the living room and notice the notepad on the floor, it seems even more obvious. I’m not sure why it’s on the floor and not on the table, but it’s possible it got knocked off accidentally while Georgia was leaving.

Except. Why is it face up? And why does its position look more like it was placed than it fell?

I could come up with a dozen rational explanations, but my gut is telling mesomethingis wrong. When I got this feeling back in the Army, it almost always meant the mission was about to go sideways.

But notthistime, a little voice begs silently. Not this time, not withGeorgia.

Stomach clenching, heart pounding, I reach down and pick up the notebook. And then my heart freezes.

It’s a note from Georgia. But it’s so much worse than I could have imagined.

Just three lines that turn my world on its end.

3:15 - Had to meet him or he’d kill you

I have my tracker

Love you

NO. No. No. My heart is a deafening drum.

Questions shoot rapid-fire through my head. How did this happen? Who was going to kill me? I didn’t see anyone. Why didn’t she ask Cole or Rylan for help?

She left at three-fifteen. That’s almost an hour ago. Where could she be now? Is she withhim?

Oh, God.

I’m stuck, brain spinning in indecision. Always so logical, now I can’t think straight foranything.

The tracker. I need to find her. Cole. Rylan.

I yank my phone out of my pocket and jab at the screen. Call Cole. Before the call even connects I sprint to my laptop, flipping open the lid and frantically pulling up the tracking software. The program lags, says it needs a critical update, and I almost scream in frustration.

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