Five #2
There was applause, and once she was back in his arms, she scrunched up her shoulders and waved. She was so cute; sometimes, it took all that I had not to eat her.
Sam moved like he always did—fluidly, his innate power so easy to see. When he returned Hannah to her chair, he put a hand on the back of mine before he leaned down close. I was surprised when he kissed my cheek, as the action was more than he was normally comfortable with in public.
“Hi,” I greeted him, my hand going to his shoulder. “How was your day?”
He ran his stubble-covered cheek up the side of my neck to behind my ear. “I missed you.”
It was just a simple statement, but because of his closeness, the soft and husky growl, and the warm breath on my skin, it felt so very intimate. I caught my breath.
“Did you miss me, or did you replace me?” He was teasing, mostly.
“Ridiculous man,” I breathed out as I tilted my head back to look up into the dark smoky-blue eyes. “Let me introduce you.”
I saw his jaw clench and knew why. My soft voice, hooded gaze, and the lazy smile I gave him all reminded him of sex, and that fast, he was mine. He tumbled into my web so easily.
“Sam, this is Milton Kage; his mother, Denise; and his son, Theo. Everyone, this is Sam.”
Milt stood to offer him his hand. “Heard a lot about you today, Marshal. Your family doesn’t talk about much else.”
Quickly, he was on the receiving end of a happy, smiling Sam Kage.
“Pleasure.”
After Sam shook hands with everyone, he hugged Kola and then returned to me, his hand, whether he knew it or not, settling on the base of my throat.
“I’m sending Riley and Peter up to babysit so you can meet me in the bar overlooking the mountains. They have a blue margarita that apparently, Jen says, you would like.”
“Okay.” I smiled up at him. “What time will you be there?”
“I have to go with my dad and Michael to meet some people, so, eight?”
“Eight is perfect.” I sighed, unable to help myself.
“It’s a date.”
“It’s drinks,” I clarified, “and I’m bringing my wingman.”
His eyes flicked over to Milt and then back to me. “You do that.”
The Blue Moon Lounge, with its indigo-illuminated floor, cobalt glassware, and blue Formica, was aptly named. As I sat with Milton at the bar, nursing a blue Hawaiian—because I thought it would be funny—I should have been the picture of ease. I was tense.
Sam was late.
Sam was never late.
If, heaven forbid, the man couldn’t avoid being tardy, I could always count on a call, letting me know what the problem was. It was unsettling that he was not there.
I tried his cell, and it went immediately to voicemail. My heart was suddenly in my throat.
“Jory, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Milton told me. “Have another drink.”
But it was nine, and then it was ten, and Sam didn’t answer any of my texts.
“Jory, I’m sure he—”
“No,” I told him, excusing myself, abandoning Milton to go back to the room to check to see if Sam was there.
Riley and Peter were watching a movie they probably shouldn’t have been, but my kids were asleep, and Riley was watching through her fingers while her brother called her a scaredy-cat.
I checked the phone to see if there were any messages and then left the kids alone and went down to the front desk. They had no messages for me either.
Waiting was never my thing.
As Milt joined me, having come to look for me, I called the WITSEC field office in Chicago. They would know what to do.
After a whirlwind of phone calls, I was still alone, and I didn’t think I would be.
It turned out that Sam had to be missing a full twenty-four hours before the police in Phoenix would do anything.
The deputies at home in Chicago were not aware that Sam was on anything more frightening than a vacation.
Even when I spoke to Deputy White, he said that any communication to them would need to come from Sam.
If he called them for help, if he got word to them, they would move.
Unfortunately, my concern over him being gone, especially for such a short time, was not enough for them to go on. They would not be riding to my rescue.
“But you said all he had to do was call you,” I reminded him somewhat frantically over the phone.
“Yeah, him,” White told me for what must have been the fifth time at that point. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harcourt, but you saying he’s missing is just not enough of a reason for us to scramble our team. If he were actually in trouble, he’d let us know.”
“How?” I was yelling by that time, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“We have our channels. I assure you, he’s fine.”
I hung up on him so I wouldn’t yell. I knew Sam Kage; he didn’t.
I knew what trouble looked like.
“Jory,” Milt said hesitantly as I paced the lobby at midnight, “do you think maybe you’re overreacting?”
I reminded myself that he didn’t know me or Sam, so ripping his head off was not fair.
“No,” was all I said as I called one of Sam’s oldest friends.
Charles “Chaz” Diaz and Patrick Cantwell had been Sam’s closest buddies from back when he was a detective.
They had been friends of his first partner, Dominic Kairov, too.
But even before it became evident that he was so much more than simply dirty that going into witness protection was Dominic’s only option, they had both taken Sam’s side in the fallout he’d had with Dominic over Sam being bi and wanting me.
When Sam had joined the US Marshals Service, nothing had changed; they all still saw each other constantly.
So, when I was freaking out, it made sense for me to turn to Pat or Chaz. Since Chaz was before Pat in my phone, he was the one who got woken up.
He answered on the fifth ring. “Whoever the fuck this is, it’s two the fuck o’clock in the morning here, just so you fuckin’ know.”
“Sam’s missing,” I said instead of hello.
“Jory?” he said and sounded a little clearer, less gravelly, even that fast.
“I can’t find him, and I’m scared. He was supposed to come see me, but he also came here tracking a witness, and maybe that witness—”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Arizona.”
“No, I know that. I mean, are you at the hotel or somewhere else?”
“I’m at the hotel, but how did you know Sam and I were in Arizona?”
“Because friends fuckin’ talk, Jory—how the fuck ya think?”
All three of them swore too much—that was what I thought.
“So, you’re at the hotel, and Sam’s missing.”
“Yes.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“Technically, five hours, but I’m not counting the first one.”
“And no word from him?”
“No word.”
“Shit,” he groaned, and his concern sent a surge of gratitude through me.
Chaz and Pat knew Sam Kage just like I did.
They knew that him being gone without telling anyone where he was going, if he was not specifically undercover, was cause for concern.
There was no second-guessing; Chaz was simply right there with me, taking the situation seriously.
I would have gushed at him, but I knew, to him, it was unnecessary. It simply was.
“Okay, J, I’ll call you right back,” he stated before he was gone.
I took the time to text Dane that I needed him to come to Phoenix to pick up the kids. As soon as he woke up and read the message, I was sure I would be getting a call.
“Jory,” Milt began, sliding his arm around my shoulders, trying to offer me comfort. It wasn’t what I needed.
When my phone rang again, I answered on the first ring.
“J?”
“Pat,” I greeted him, not surprised that I was talking to him.
Chaz had, of course, called his partner, as Pat was better at talking to people. Chaz hit first, then asked questions. Pat was the opposite. Shrugging off Milt’s arm, I walked a few feet away from him.
“Okay, so the ping off his phone tells us that his last location was at some place called The Ram, west of Scottsdale, where you are, close to Peoria. I punched up the club, and it looks like it has drugs and a whole lot of other shit running through it. Do not go there alone.”
“Okay.”
“I repeat, do not go there alone. Wait for me and Chaz. We’ll be there by—”
“We both know I’m going there, like, right now.”
There was a long-drawn-out sigh. “Yeah, I figured,” he grumbled. “So, there’s a friend of mine and Pat’s and Sam’s who’s actually on vacation out there. Chaz called him, and he’s gonna pick you up at your hotel and drive you there.”
This was very good news. “Is he a police officer, like you and Chaz?”
“He is. He’s a really good guy, solid; you’ll like him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Duncan Stiel. You remember ever meeting him?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Listen, just”—he took a breath—“don’t go anywhere without him, all right?”
“What is he doing here?” I asked as I started for the front of the hotel. I needed to be where Duncan Stiel could easily find me.
“He’s been on vacation. First, he was in California for a while, and now he’s driving back to Chicago, taking the scenic route home. Sam had called Duncan already about backing him up if he needed help while he was there.”
“He did?”
“Course. You know Sam. When have you ever seen him not prepared?”
And it was true, but, God, did the man need to learn how to communicate!
“Okay.”
“So, he’ll be there soon, but I need you to wait for him—you understand?”
“And you’re still coming? You and Chaz?”
“Yeah, we’ll be there. Chaz is seeing what flight we can get on, but just listen to Duncan, all right? He and Sam are tight, and he’ll take care of you.”
“Okay.”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to just stay at your hotel and let Duncan take care of this.”
“Yeah, no.”
“Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have told you the name of the club, but Chaz said that if we kept it from you and you ever found out—”
“I’d sic both your wives on you,” I told him seriously.
“Yeah, I know, and that’s what he said.”
There were big-time perks to having such close friends.
“Okay, so Duncan will be there shortly. Listen to him, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I agreed quickly. “But how will I know him?”
“He’s as big as Sam, blond hair—no, wait, maybe it’s brown. I’ve never really noticed. He’s got gray eyes, I think, but ya know—most important, he’s big, right?”