Chapter 21
twenty-one
Zander
I left Nev on the couch. She was sleeping soundly, so I tucked her in with a blanket and dragged myself home.
It wasn't easy leaving her. I could have stayed there all damn night with her in my arms. The light coming through the blinds on my window is muted, but it's already late morning.
I came home thinking about Nev and how badly I wished things were different between us.
The frustration sent me straight to the bottle of whiskey I had saved in the kitchen cupboard.
I'd be paying for those four shots for the rest of the day.
I walk to the window and open the blinds.
Gray clouds hang low over the ranch. Ronan is on feeding duty in the barn, but he isn't always reliable.
I pull on my jeans and boots and head out.
Coffee will have to wait, and I'm going to make it as thick and black as tar.
I don't hear frantic hungry snorts coming from the barn, which is a good sign.
I'm surprised to find that Ronan is still there sweeping the barn aisle. He looks back. "There he is." He looks past me. "You alone?"
"No, I've got a parade of people behind me. Yeah, I'm alone."
Ronan shrugs. "You were still in bed, so I figured you had one of your many visitors.
" He stops and leans on the handle of the broom.
"Actually, now that I think about it—you haven't brought anyone home for months, and last night you turned down a game of strip poker with three hot women.
You didn't miss much on that, by the way.
We ended up at their apartment over in Bassett, and everyone got so drunk we couldn't even shuffle a fucking deck of cards let alone play poker.
Colin and I passed out on their floor and dragged our sorry asses out of there this morning before they woke up. "
"Yeah, and that's why I haven't brought anyone home lately. Tired of drinking and fucking and then starting the whole damn cycle over again. Guess I'm getting too old for the constant partying and meeting new women. Restarting relationships with women from the past is getting old, too."
"Shit, I'm going to be depressed all day knowing that I will soon get to an age where a good fuck is no longer something to look forward to." Ronan swept the broom back and forth.
"Never said that but thanks for mucking. Think I'll go back to bed."
Ronan's phone rings. He answers as I'm leaving. "Yeah, he's here. Hold on. Z." He holds out his phone. "It's Jameson. He's been calling you."
I pat my pockets and realize my phone is still at the house. It figures. Never without the damn thing until someone needs me. "Better be about our paycheck," I say to Ronan as I grab the phone.
"Did the fucker finally pay us?" I ask.
Jameson ignores the question. "Is Nev with you?" His tone is urgent.
"No, why would she be with me? What's going on?"
"Mona, the girl who works with Nev, showed up for work this morning, but the shop was closed, and Nev wasn't there.
She waited for an hour and then went back home.
She called Nev's number, but there was no answer, so she called Kiki.
Kiki said she talked to her this morning briefly, then went back to sleep, but she was sure she heard Nev leave the house.
Kiki looked out the window, and Nev's car was still in the driveway. Her bike is still in the garage, too."
"Where the fuck is she?" I ask sharply.
"Don't know. Indi and Kiki are trying to call her, but she's not answering."
I head out of the barn. "It's that motherfucker Hoffman. He's hanging out with shady assholes. Obviously, his money isn't coming in legitimately."
"Hey, my phone," Ronan says, but I ignore him.
"What can we do?" Jameson asks.
"I should have asked her more details about the guy who was hanging out in front of her shop last night after closing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was so busy acting the fucking hero, I didn't get any details."
"What guy? Do you think someone's been stalking her?" Indi says something in the background. "Wait, hold on." Jameson pulls away from the phone and comes right back. "Kiki talked to the neighbors. Apparently, one of them said an old Camaro kept driving down the street last night." We both pause.
"Fuck, do you think it's Chug?" I ask. "Of course, it's fucking Chug, and I'll bet he was at the shop last night, too. What the fuck did Hoffman get her into? I'm going to fucking kill him."
"Let him pay us first," Jameson says wryly. "Never mind. I think that ship has sailed. Dad will probably know where you can find Chug."
"Already heading to the house. Let me know if Kiki hears from Nev."
"Yep. Let me know if you need me. I'd like a crack at Hoffman myself."
"No way, if Nev's in trouble because of him, then he's all fucking mine."
I take the front steps two at a time. My heart is pounding, and every muscle is taut with adrenaline. "Dad! Where the fuck are you?" I pound through the house.
"In here," Dad says.
I follow his voice to the front room where he likes to sit with his coffee and watch the news on television, "like a true old grandpa" we tease whenever we see him in that room.
This morning, I catch him in his wire-rimmed reading glasses.
I can almost look at him and think he was just a regular dad who wore a cardigan and slippers on chilly evenings and mowed the lawn on Sunday.
But the fact that I'm coming to find out information on a known drug and gun-runner shatters that image fast.
Dad takes off his glasses and sits back with his coffee. He looks thinner and paler since the last health scare. It's always hard to see that kind of change because it reminds me that he's mortal, after all. "What are you all in a fucking fluff about, Z?"
"Chug, do you know where I might find him?"
His mind isn't nearly as sharp anymore either. His brows bunch together. "Who?"
"Chug, I don't know what the fuck his real name is. He ran some guns for you about five years ago."
"Don't know what you're talking about. Never ran guns."
"Don't act like an innocent old prick. We know you ran guns and drugs and any other illegal shit you could get your claws into. Nev's in trouble. I think Chug might have taken her."
He sits up straighter when I bring up Nev. "My guardian angel? What the hell? What would Chug want with her?"
"So you do know who I'm talking about."
"Yeah, Chug, that fucking weasel. I'll kill him if he touches a hair on her head."
"Nope, if he has her, he's mine. Where do you think I can find him?"
Dad sits back with a groan. It's one of his signature sounds now. "How the fuck would I know? Haven't seen that prick in ages. And, for the record, I was only ever the middleman. My hands never touched guns or drugs."
I stare at him to let him know I'm unimpressed with his defense. "Just need to find Chug. You can talk about how saintly you are with your Maker once you meet him. I'm sure he'll have a good laugh."
"Smart-ass," Dad says. "You know, Chug used to have a boat, a rusty old teapot.
Hmm, let me think. It had a stupid name, just like its owner.
Knotty something. Spelled k-n-o-t-t-y. Knotty Girl, I think.
Figures I'd remember that one," he chuckles.
"Why don't you head down to the marina. Ernie Folsom still works on boats down there.
He might be able to tell you if he's seen the boat.
Far as I know he was always living on that boat. I'll make some calls, too."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Zander, you find that girl," he says.
"Yep."
I climb into the car and head straight for the marina.
Rockhurst has a mostly rocky, unapproachable coastline with just a few strips of decent beach, but five miles up the coast is an old marina that has slips for rent.
It isn't one of those fancy marinas filled with gleaming yachts and glossy pleasure boats.
It's mostly port to old fishing trawlers and a few motorboats.
Ernie Folsom went to school with my dad.
Dad didn't keep in touch with many old friends, but he occasionally hears from Ernie, and they talk about the old days when they rode their crummy bikes around town even after dark and a dollar in your pocket meant you were fucking rich.
Jameson calls as I'm getting on the coastal highway. I tap the screen. "Is she back?"
"No one's heard from her yet, and now her calls are going straight to voicemail. Kiki is freaking out. Indi, too. They're going to the police to report her missing. Did you find out anything from Dad?"
"I'm heading up to the old marina to talk to Ernie Folsom. Dad says Chug was living on his boat all these years. I'll let you know what I find out."
"I can come down there," Jameson suggests.
"I'm only a few miles from the marina. I'll keep you posted."
I pull into the parking lot. There's an old Volkswagen and a white van parked in the lot, otherwise it's empty.
Rain clouds still cling to the coast, and a wet drizzle coats me as I cross the lot.
My intuition tells me to check out the van.
Nothing about it looks right. I walk up to it and look inside.
Two empty beer bottles are sitting on the torn passenger seat and rope sits in a neat coil on the floor.
I try to open it, but it's locked. The van is old and so dented it looks as if it has tumbled down a mountainside.
I step back and my heel lands on something plastic.
It cracks under my weight. I step off it and bend down to pick up the shiny green hair clip.
It's the kind with big pinchers that hold hair up.
Nev wears them at the shop to keep her hair out of the way.
Every muscle in my body tenses with rage. They have her.