Chapter Thirty-Two
Rowan
My home is a buzz of preparation. Everyone moves around me with quiet whispers as I shove clothes into a duffel bag. They’re trying not to rattle me further, but my nerves are already shot. My hands shake, and all I can think of is how I failed my girl.
I should have looked into Hughes the moment I thought I recognized the name. All of the signs were there. Addison’s Mom never responded to her. It was all so out of character, but I was too lost in the moment.
It was like years of training had dissipated in my girl’s presence. I wore those rose colored glasses for far too long.
“Hey,” Alana calls softly as she places a hand on my shoulder. “Stop beating yourself up over this. It wasn't your fault.”
I zip my bag with more force than I should. “It is, Al. I let this happen.”
“You didn't know,” she interjects.
“I should have!” I whip around, the overwhelming urge to tear through state after state, clawing away at my resolve. I feel desperate—hopeless. Like a part of me is fucking missing.
The intel expert’s expression only softens, her eyes bleeding with sadness. “Oh, Rowan, you can't blame yourself. Not when she needs you.”
Her words stunt me, and I blink away my deranged side that keeps seeming to make a guest appearance. “I’m sorry. I just have to find her…”
“You will,” she reassures me before pulling me into a hug.
I let my arms wrap around her as comfort washes over me. It isn't much, but it helps ground me. Going into this with a fucked up mind will only lead to mistakes. I know they will keep Addison safe, but taking her is like waging war against us. Against me.
“I tracked her location. Luckily enough, she had her phone on her, and Dominic said he would go with you.” Alana presents the burner phone with a steadily moving dot as she pulls away.
I take it, giving her the best tight smile I can to show my gratitude. Dominic pokes his head in the open front door of Addison's and my home, a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Are you ready?” He asks.
“Yes,” I grab my things before Loxley catches my attention.
She’s rattled. Her friend has gone missing for a second time, and that guilt tugs away at my gut. Her usually sunny features are downcast, and her eyes are rimmed red from crying. “Bring her back. Please, Rowan.”
“I am.” A deathly calm washes over me. Those old instincts are kicking in as the woman I love needs me. “Even if it fucking kills me.”
***
We’re a few hours behind. Two hours wouldn't make a difference if it weren't Addison I was tracking. I know it isn't life or death, but my brain can't stop thinking of the what-ifs.
They could hurt her.
She could need something, but she's too soft-spoken to ask.
She could be terrified…
“Stop shaking your leg,” Dom bites. He’s easily agitated, and we’ve been trapped in my truck for over ten hours. We drove through the night, and I refused to stop so we could sleep. He’s already a ticking bomb, and I’m not making matters any better.
“Sorry,” I mumble, my eyes focusing on the road.
He sighs, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “You can't keep going like this, Row. You’re running on fumes.”
“I’ll sleep when I'm fucking dead,” I laugh bitterly.
That only gets a disappointed head shake from my friend. “Let me take over. I slept for a few hours.”
No.
I have to get to her. She needs me.
“You won't be worth a damn if you're exhausted,” Dom leans forward, his elbow digging into the middle console. “I’ll put this fucking truck in neutral until you stop. You’re not in this alone.”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as the words that have been on repeat in my head for the last ten hours tumble from my lips. “I can't stop. She needs me.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, she needs Rowan Kingsley, the leader of the Midwestern syndicate. Not the fucking shell of him.”
I finally break my concentration as everything comes crashing down on me. My shoulders curl forward with exhaustion, and I know he’s right.
She needs me at my best.
I flick on the blinker and turn off on the shoulder so we can switch seats. As I settle in, I take one last lingering look at the GPS. “Wake me up if anything changes.”
Dom doesn't answer as he veers us back onto the road. At first, I don't sleep. Everything is too much—the tires bumping over the asphalt, the sounds of cars passing us, the nagging in the back of my mind that we aren't going fast enough.
I can see Addison behind my eyelids, the portrait of her sunny smile painted into the fabric of my mind like a precious gem. Living in the unknown is torture. I’ve tried texting her, but I haven’t gotten an answer.
I should be doing more.
I should be with her.
How could I let this happen?
“Go to sleep,” Dom commands.
“Bite me,” I grumble.
“I will,” he threatens.
A fitful sleep pulls me under, but it’s thinly veiled. I can still register the shifting of the truck and the distant sounds outside as we pass forested areas and cities. I filter in and out of restlessness, trying to force myself to get the slumber I desperately need, but I can't.
I’ve already grown used to having Addison’s slight curves pressed against me and her long, slender leg tossed over my hips. She’s a cuddler, and I'm missing her warmth far more than what can be considered healthy.
It doesn't feel right.
I feel hollow.
Dom’s voice slams me awake as he curses. My eyes fly open, and I'm up in my seat before he can even shift into park.
We’re outside of a bar, the last tendrils of afternoon light filtering over the heavily forested landscape in the background.
The establishment in front of us is a squat brick building with dated signage that's faded over time.
There are a few neon beer logos crowding the glass front, and the gravel parking lot is full of motorcycles and jacked-up trucks.
A few patrons linger outside, smoking as they laugh and converse near the front door.
“Where are we? Why are we stopping?” My voice is rough with sleep, and sounds far more snippy than I intend for it to.
“North Dakota. Rugby, to be exact.” Dominic answers as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
I give him an incredulous look. “Now isn't the time for a fucking smoke break.”
“No, it isn't.” He shrugs as if we aren't racing against the damn clock. “But the GPS signal stops here.”
My eyes zero in on the device propped on the dash, my heart slamming. The single blinking dot is stationary at this location.
I grab the burner before throwing my door open and leaving my friend behind. My boots crunch across the gravel, and a few eyes stray to me as I walk with purpose into the bar.
I push past the threshold, looking around wildly for familiar brown hair, but come up short. The air is thick with smoke, and the rickety tables that make up the center of the floor are clear. Most people are seated at the bar, where two women in tank tops and cut-off shorts serve drinks.
“What can I help you with, sugar?” One bartender asks as I eye the empty bathroom doors propped open to the far right.
She isn't here.
Which means someone has her fucking phone.
My fist tightens around the burner, nearly crushing the device as my eyes scan the customers. A flash of purple has my head whipping around to the left end of the bar.
A lone patron, big and imposing, rests on a stool with his hand cupping the rim of a whisky glass. If I were in my right mind, I would have connected the dots early on, but as I stalk towards him, I don't even register the familiar messy blonde hair.
All I can focus on is Addison’s phone resting face down on the countertop next to him.
I grab the back of the patron’s white t-shirt, fisting it as I yank him back before slamming his side into the bar roughly. The bartenders gasp, scurrying to get away as everything goes silent in the establishment.
I cock my fist back, ready to strike, until the voice of a past life has me pausing in my fury.
“Missed me, boss?” Theodore smirks, his round wire-rimmed glasses sitting crooked on the bridge of his nose. The faint scar over his lip, a trophy of a fight he won when we were kids, pulls up with his Cheshire grin. Deep green eyes full of mirth squint at me.
“Theodore?” I breathe, confused.
His light brows shoot up to his hairline. “Are you gonna kiss me? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I blink, my balled fist lowering as I release his shirt. “What the fuck is going on? Why do you have Addison’s phone?” I grab it off the bar, shoving it in his direction.
Realization strikes across his features. “Was that her name? She was a fucking firecracker. Great rack on her.”
My eyes cut a warning glare at him. “Watch your fucking mouth, Reese.”
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Whoa, didn't mean to strike a chord there. I only have her phone because it was all I could grab off of Logan Hughes before he shoved her into the back of his truck.”
Addison’s cousin.
“Fuck!” I curse, slamming the burner phone onto the countertop.
Theo frowns at my outburst. “What’s gotten into you? Did you know the target?”
I sigh, resting my head back against my shoulders as I pray to whatever fucking gods will hear me. “She’s my girlfriend. She didn't know her family was a part of the Northwestern syndicate.”
“Oh, shit,” Theo mumbles. “Happy you found someone, but what are the fucking odds? I was on my way back to Ohio, and the hit popped up on my feed. I just wanted to make some pocket change on my way home.”
“Theo?” Dom’s tone of disbelief reaches us, and I peer over my shoulder at him. The unlit cigarette hangs from his lips, his eyes wide as he takes in his childhood best friend.
Theo’s face falls, his features softening. “Bug…”
Hearing the old nickname Theo conjured for Dom when they were kids has something bittersweet passing behind my travel companion’s eyes. He blinks quickly, hiding his surprise behind an austere mask. “What are you doing here?”
“On my way home to you,” Theodore says, his voice low.
I glance between them, unsure of what to make of this reunion. These two have been inseparable since they were kids, and one little slip caused them to split for a year. It’s something I’ve been piecing together in my own time.
But a puzzle I don't have the time to solve.
“Do you know anything about Logan Hughes?” I ask Theo, breaking their staring match.
He shrugs. “I know where his old man’s territory begins. I may have been enemy number one not long ago.”
“Good. You’re coming with us.” I decide.
He smirks, his charming features twisting into that usual amusement that seems to come naturally to him.
“An opportunity to fuck up Logan Hughes? I’m down.
” He walks over to Dom, taking the cigarette from between my travel companion’s teeth before sealing his lips around the dub.
He produces a lighter from his pocket, cupping a hand around his mouth as he lights it.
He takes a long drag, staring at his childhood best friend before placing the light cig back in Dom’s mouth.
I don't miss the way Theo’s fingers dust over his friend’s jaw. “Let’s get going.”
I stalk out of the bar, leaving them to whatever moment they seem to be having. I don't have time for their antics.
Not when Addison is counting on me.