Chapter 7
RAZOR
The principal is cool, reserved, and angry. I can tell by her tight smile and disapproving lips that are set in a thin line.
“How may I help you, Mr.…”
“I want access to the CCTV in the parking lot on the day that Sunday was abducted.”
“It shows nothing other than the make and model of the cars, and the cops have traced them and come up with nothing.”
“I’m not the cops, ma’am, and I can assure you I will come up with something. So if you are interested in helping Sunday, I would hand over those tapes.”
She sighs. “I will ask my IT department to forward the images to you if you leave your number.”
“I’ll study them here.”
Her lips tighten. “Fine, but this is for Sunday because God knows I’m worried about that girl, and if there is any way I can help, I will, no matter how unconventional this is.”
She makes a call and issues her instructions, and as we wait, she asks with interest. “So why are you here? In what capacity? Did you know Sunday? Are you here on her family’s behalf?”
Simple enough questions that I don’t get to answer because what the hell am I to Sunday?
The guy who let her down, who turned his back when she walked away.
The guy who fucked her every night, not looking at another woman the entire time.
The man who was so in denial it’s embarrassing.
The man who loves her with his entire jaded heart and can’t work out how to deal with that.
“I’m a friend.”
I leave it at that, and an expression of sympathy crosses her face. “A friend?”
She nods, “She is lucky to have a friend like you who is so concerned.”
“If you say so.”
I’m weary of the conversation. I hate words; they get you into all kinds of trouble, and she leans on the desk, her eyes unreadable.
“Sunday was a model student. Everyone liked her. I couldn’t believe what happened.”
I say nothing, and she sighs. “I hope you find her.”
“I will.”
She raises her eyes, and I resist adding, dead or alive, because I’m aware that’s a possibility, and I am trying hard not to deal with that right now.
She glances at her computer screen as something flicks up on it.
“Here it is. The replay from the date she was taken.”
She spins the screen toward me, and my heart freefalls when I notice Sunday smiling at the guy from the football field.
He is hitting on her; it’s obvious from his pose and expression, but she isn’t interested.
I know her well enough to understand every expression on her sweet face, and her smile is fake, painted on with none of the usual warmth behind it.
She is being polite; it’s obvious, and as she hands him her phone and he programs in his number, I stifle my grin.
Typical Sunday. She has no intention of calling him. If she had wanted to, she would have given him her number, and for the first time since arriving here, my heart lightens a little.
She pockets her phone and heads off with an apologetic smile, and part of me hates how genuine she is. She is the kindest woman I know; hell, she took pity on a surly bastard like me, so she deserves a fucking medal.
All the time I keep my eyes on the screen, I’m aware the principal is watching me, and yet I can’t disguise my emotion when the cars pull up behind and in front of her.
My fist clenches as a hand reaches out, a door opens blocking her escape, and she is pulled into the car, the door closing almost immediately as they scream out of the parking lot.
“Can you send me the recording?”
“Of course.”
The principal nods. “I just need your number or email.”
I repeat my number and as she forwards the file to me, I can’t shake the heaviness in my heart that hit me as soon as I saw Sunday on the screen.
I miss her so badly it’s a physical ache in my heart, and what happened a few days ago doesn’t give me much hope. Anything could have happened. Is she hurt, frightened, or in danger?
It’s like a knife twisting on repeat in my soul, and I heave a deep breath and barely register the hand that covers mine as I clench my fist on the desk.
“You’ll find her.”
The principal’s eyes are misty and her smile shakes. “I believe in you, Mr.–”
I say nothing, just nod. “Thank you for your assistance, ma’am.”
I stand, every step painful, and as I head out of the door, I can’t witness the sympathy flashing from the principal’s eyes. I don’t deserve her sympathy. I deserve to feel pain for the rest of my miserable life if any harm comes to Sunday because I let her down.
* * *
My business at the college is done, and as I head back to Satan’s Fury, I struggle to get a grip on my emotions. Seeing Sunday on the screen killed me inside. She is so pretty. So soft, an angel in fact.
I was the happiest I had ever been when she glanced my way with a soft smile.
I gave her nothing but my cock in return.
No affection, no words of reassurance, just my surly company and the use of my body while I worshipped hers.
To this day, I don’t know why she tried so hard with me.
I never encouraged her, but I couldn’t keep away.
Sunday was the only light in my dark world and the only person I talked to outside of my twin brother, Blade. They are my world; she was my world and my mission in life is to bring her home and never stop telling her how much she means to me – or die trying.
* * *
Sultan is sitting on the steps of the clubhouse when I pull up, and I notice the men from the diner flanking him on all sides.
Their expressions are less unwelcoming, and their wounds still evident, and as I slam the car door, they watch my approach with less hostility.
“What have you got for me?”
Sultan sighs.
“You’re not gonna like it.”
My heart freezes and the world stops spinning.
“The cars were stolen, and the plates found in a dumpster nearby. I have reports they were seen heading out of town toward Harpersville. After a few calls, I was told they checked into a hotel in town.”
“How many?”
“Six in total. Five men, one woman.”
“And?”
“Checked out this morning.”
“Do you know where?”
“Apparently, one of the maids heard them talking about the private airfield. I called our contact, and he told us a private jet took off for Los Angeles two hours ago. They were all on board.”
“Do you have the aircraft number?”
I am trying to maintain a cool head, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to smash something, and he nods, handing me a piece of paper; the information written in bold black ink.
“I’m sorry, man. It appears they got away.”
I fix him with a hard expression, and he sighs. “At least they think they did. God help whoever took her, that’s all I’m saying.”
God help them indeed, because as I forward the information to Lucy, I’m aware that by the time I head back home, I will be taking off again real soon, and this time, I won’t be going alone.
* * *
Within the hour, I’m ready. A stop at the grocery store gives me enough supplies to fuel the long drive home. I have water, food, and only my thoughts for company as I steer toward the highway.
One or two fuel stops should be enough, and I should reach the Rubicon in the early hours of the morning. I’m praying they’re ready for me, because I doubt I’ll be there long.
As the miles disappear beneath my wheels, my thoughts turn to Sunday and the first time I saw her all those months ago. I relive every soft smile, every hesitant touch, and every single moment we shared, each one strengthening my resolve to make this right.