30. Nate
30
Nate
M y skin stuck to the leather seat, the blood soaking through my shirt and pinning it to my ribs like glue. I ripped at the makeshift bandage, exposing the freshly opened wound.
Deep.
Angry.
Each throb was like a punch from the inside out, reverberating through my ribs and clawing at the edges of my focus. My hands twitched, slick with sweat, as I tried to steady them on my lap. The pulsing heat from the wound forced me to pause, my breath hitching with every jolt that traveled up my spine.
I grabbed the first-aid kit I’d yanked from the trunk of some sorry sap's car and tore it open.
Gauze.
Alcohol wipes.
Tape
"That's a start."
My chest heaved as I stared out the cracked windshield at the murky riverbank, trying to slow my heartbeat—the sharp tang of blood and mud clinging to the air.My hands, slick with a mix of both, fumbled with the small packet of alcohol wipes. I placed it between my teeth and tore it open like a condom.
The river's surface rippled, each wave spreading wide like the edges of my fraying control, the adrenaline dumping from my system in a slow, torturous tide. My heavy breathing slowed to an uneven rhythm. The water mocked me with its calm, a deceptive facade hiding the weight now anchored beneath it.
I ripped open the gauze, biting back a groan as the movement tugged at the wound, and let out a low hiss. Leaning back into the headrest, its vinyl surface cold against the short hairs on my head, I shut my eyes tight. The sharp sting radiated outward like shards of glass spreading under my skin, pulling my focus into a narrow biting point.
Keep going.
One breath.
One step at a time.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pressed the alcohol wipe to the outer edges of the gash. Fire roared through my body. Stars burst behind my eyes, scattering like glitter as my breath caught and refused to return. My muscles clenched in rebellion, locking me into a rigid, agonizing stillness.
My vision shrank, the edges darkening as adrenaline surged again, fighting the sudden wave of exhaustion. I gasped, desperate for air, shallow breaths tearing into my chest like jagged blades.
Damn it, Barlowe, stay awake.
She needs you.
The world tilted on its axis and pulled me into oblivion.
Thick darkness sat outside, broken by the faint sheen of the waning moonlight off the river’s surface. My head throbbed, the ache settling behind my eyes like prisoners begging to be set free. I blinked hard, dragging myself back from the edge of unconsciousness.
My side screamed with every shallow breath.
It's evening?
How long was I out?
Two hours?
Three?
I’d passed out like a rookie.
Reaching up, I flicked on the overhead light, its harsh, yellowed glow flooding the car. I squinted against the brightness and glanced down.
"God. Fuck."
The bandage around my side hung loose, darkened with a fresh bloom of crimson. The dried blood trailed along my skin, pooling in the dip of my hip before streaking down to the seat.
"Ugghh."
I forced myself upright and grabbed the water bottle from the seat with a grunt and choked down two gulps, the liquid soothing its way down my dry throat.
Screwing the lid back on the bottle, I tossed it into the seat beside me and finished the haphazard job I'd started who knows how long ago with my teeth gritted.
Fresh perspiration beaded across my brow by the time I'd finished cleaning my side, taping it up with gauze and stuffing the wound tight—my vision dipping into darkness.
I tipped my head back against the headrest and blew out air through my pursed lips, the burner phone sitting on the dash glaring at me.
Where is she?
Is she safe?
Why hadn't she used her phone in twenty-four hours?
I should’ve put the tracker back on her car after Liam.
I should’ve done a lot of things.
Grabbing the phone, I held it in my hand, debating the next step—weighing each consequence.
The burner sat like a ten-pound dumbbell, heavier than it should as I dialed the one person I didn't want to need.
“You’ve got some nerve, Barlowe.”
“Callie—”
“Don’t. Don’t even start. Do you have any idea the shitstorm you left me in? Keith’s out for blood. The agency’s in lockdown. And me?” Her voice cracked, hardening again in the same breath. “I’m hanging on by a thread, Nate. You’re lucky I didn’t smash this phone the second I saw your number.”
I closed my eyes, my nostrils flaring. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“No,” she snapped. “You didn’t have a plan. And now Keith’s convinced I’m your accomplice. Do you know how long I spent convincing him otherwise?”
“I need you to shut up and listen for a minute.”
"I'm hanging up now."
I jerked to the side and let loose an agonizing groan. "Wait, wait. I'm sorry."
"That's better—"
"And I need your help."
She let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you do. What is it this time? Another mess to clean up? Or are you just looking for someone else to blame?”
“It’s Ava.” The words came out harder than I intended. The line went silent. “She’s gone. Off the grid. No phone. No tracker. Nothing. I need to find her.”
"No."
"Callie, I need to find her. Please ." Begging sat on my tongue like bitter greens, spreading across my mouth in poisonous tendrils.
Heavy silence stretched between us.
“Why should I help you?”
“Because she doesn’t deserve to be collateral damage in all of this. You know that.”
Another pause. Then a sigh. “You’re lucky I’m at home,” she muttered. “If Keith gets wind of this…”
“He won’t." I fist pumped in the air and pinched my eyes closed as pain lanced across my side. "At least not from me.”
“Give me a minute.” Fingernails clacking against a keyboard filled the line. “You’re looking for any activity tied to her?”
“Yes.”
"I'll call you back."
The line went dead and I checked her bank account one more time.
Gas fill up.
An ATM hit.
Then nothing.
"Come on, Ava. Where are you?"
I started the car and pulled out onto the road, the car tires kicking up loose gravel. Driving to the gas station she'd been to yesterday.
Riinngg.
My fingers slid the green button over in record time.
"Tell me you got something?"
"I ran her license plate through the LPR-Network, and I got a hit. Fifteen minutes ago, she was pinged pulling into a truck stop about an hour from you. I've sent you the address."
Relief hit me like a shot of adrenaline. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” She cut me off with a sharp exhale. “If this blows up, you’re on your own. Don’t call me again.”
The line went dead... again.
I glanced at the new target, then tossed the phone onto the seat and diverted towards the gas station. Every move sent pain lancing through my side, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it. I had a lead, and I wasn’t about to lose her again.
Forty-four minutes and several cuss words later, I pulled into the truck stop. The semi-trucks lined the back of the property, hulking shadows with engines idling low, their lights dark. I parked at the edge of the lot, gripping the door handle as my side flared with fresh pain. Gritting my teeth, I swung the door open and climbed out, my steps uneven as I forced myself upright.
The fluorescent lights above the station buzzed, casting a pale, sickly glow over cracked asphalt and oil stains. A late twenty-something clerk on the counter, scrolling on her phone—her auburn hair tied into a loose ponytail. Her cheap, oversized hoodie swallowed her frail frame, the logo of what must have been her old high school faded and thin.
I glanced at her short, unpainted nails as she tapped the phone's screen as though she was used to filling the long hours with endless distractions. Her dull hazel eyes flicked up to me as I limped through the door, her posture shifting.
"Do you need to prepay?"
"No." I reached into my pocket as I approached her and pulled out a crumpled photo of Ava from her dossier, then slapped it onto the counter. “I need to know if you have seen her?”
She glanced at the picture, then at me. Her brow furrowed, her gaze dropping to my waist. “Are you okay?” Her eyes darted toward the door, the store near-empty. "Do you need me to get you some help?"
My jaw tightened as her eyes lingered too long on the blood. I tugged my leather jacket closed, masking the mess beneath. "I’m fine." A slow exhale steadied me. "Have you seen her or not?"
She hesitated, then nodded, her finger tapping the counter. “Yeah, she came in a while ago. Asked about a local motel.” She jerked her thumb toward the door. “I told her about the Dew Drop Inn. It’s a cheap place, a few miles east, right off the main road.”
I gave a short nod, already turning for the exit. “Thanks.”
"There's an urgent care across the road if you need it."
The door swung shut behind me, the night air biting against my face as I limped back to the car. Each step burned, the wound in my side threatening to split open with every jolt.
Opening the car door, I crawled inside and sat, the air rushing from my lungs as though I'd hiked a marathon.
My fingers curled around the steering wheel, knuckles white as my focus sharpened.
Finally, progress.
She wasn’t some ghost vanishing into thin air.
She was out there—close, within reach.
Mine.
The thought hit with a feral intensity, pushing past the pain.
Ava could run, but she couldn’t hide.
Not from me.
Not now.
I adjusted my jacket, keeping pressure on the wound as I turned the key in the ignition.
East.
Dew Drop Inn.
No stopping, no resting.
Not until I had her in front of me again.