Chapter 44
Forty-Four
Jean-Michel
I glance at my phone for the dozenth time in the last ten minutes, my eyes searching Tiff’s last text for a hidden meaning.
But I only see the same words, no matter how many times I read them.
TIFF: Just dropped Roxie with Stefan. Walking over.
Even if she crawled, it wouldn’t take her ten minutes to get to my box.
Unless she was sidetracked by her young charge.
But as I’m staring across the arena, trying to see into the Gold box through the flashing lights that make up the pregame video and light show, I’m not seeing a curvy brunette who owns my heart.
I type out a message to Tiff, asking where she is, but when I don’t get a reply within a couple of minutes, I go back to my rereading and my staring and?—
“Dad,” Chrissy murmurs. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I say, pocketing my phone, going back to staring at the box across the way, hoping to spot Tiff amongst the occupants.
“That face”—I turn to see Rory waving a hand in the direction of my head—“doesn’t say nothing .”
“Girls—”
“Stop trying to protect us and talk to us.”
That tone from Chrissy—I don’t get it often. Hell, I didn’t even get it all that often when she was a teenager and dealing with the trauma my shit brought into her life.
She was kidnapped.
I didn’t think I was going to get her back.
The rock that’s sitting heavy in my stomach feels exactly like that.
And I know I have a choice—I can protect these women I care about, shield them from what my instincts are telling me: that something has seriously gone wrong.
Or I can trust them to step up and help.
I already know what they’re capable of.
Same as I already know what I’m going to do.
“Call Pascal,” I order my daughter. Because I trust her and I love her, but there is no fucking way that I’m going to allow her to put herself at risk, especially while pregnant. “Tell him that Tiff was on her way to me, should have been here by now, and that she’s not.” She nods, pulling out her cell, and I turn to Rory. “You go over to the Gold box—Tiff was dropping Roxie off with Stefan. See if she was sidetracked there or on the concourse.”
“Got it,” she says. “I’ll text you with an update.”
Then she’s zipping out of the box.
“I have a knot in my stomach,” Chrissy whispers. “Like something bad is happening.”
Damn.
“Me too,” I whisper back, gently hugging her. “But promise me you you’ll be smart, use your eyes and phone, and keep that baby safe.”
Her exhale is short, sharp, and she steps back, nodding deliberately. “Where are you going so I can tell Pascal?”
“Down to the ground floor to see if she cut across on her way here.”
Another nod. “I’ll let him know then check the other direction on the concourse,” she says. “Meet up with Rory and if we don’t find her, we’ll start checking bathrooms.”
My smart girl.
I cup her cheek. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Go,” she whispers.
I don’t delay any longer.
I nod, spin on my heel, and move quickly to the elevators.
Then I jab at the button and descend into the bowels of the arena.