Chapter Thirty-Five
Gage
Eight weeks.
Eight weeks of searching, hunting, and going out of my fucking mind. Two months unable to sleep, without being able to taste a single bite of food or craft any type of art. Eight weeks without my heart, Jill.
Tattooing is impossible without my muse. I haven’t even been able to sketch a design since Jill walked out of my office without so much as a backward glance. When she left, she took my soul and my passion with her—ripped it right out of my body without hesitation or mercy.
I will find her, I have to.
I’ve been tracking everything—phone records, email addresses, spam social media accounts. Jill knew what she was doing when she left and she certainly didn’t take it easy on me. She’s effectively disappeared without a trace, which has left me scrambling for anything to cling onto, any fucking lead to follow. Even with Anders’ help, we’ve found fucking nothing so far.
The little something to remember her by that she left in the safe was her phone completely wiped to factory settings—sim card included—and the tube of Crimson Sin lipstick. My lipstick. Neither of those items can help me find her, they just remind me of what I’ve lost. Every time I lay eyes on the tube of lipstick, the knife in my heart twists painfully.
I need to get her back.
An alert sounds across my office where Anders is working on his laptop. Awareness trickles through my body when he glances over at me. “I just got a hit on that stolen credit card you wanted me to track.”
“What’s the location?”
“Aguadilla, Puerto Rico.” Anders’ voice is heavy with skepticism, but I’m already up and reaching for my keys. Looks like I’ll be on the next flight out.
“Send me the address, I’m going to Puerto Rico. Stay on Lana, she’s still our best bet.” Energy spikes through me, forcing me to let out a heavy breath. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere.”
I knew tracking that credit card would pay off eventually, and now I have a thread to pull. It won’t be long before it leads me straight to who I’m looking for.
You can run, Jill. But you can’t hide. Not from me.
The address leads me to a weathered little building that’s more like a hut than a house. I look past the broken wind chimes swaying in the breeze and the faded, colorful stencil around the front door as I pound on it. Hard. I don’t want the person inside thinking they have an option when it comes to answering the door.
As soon as I hear the scrape of the lock, I’m crowding the door. Blocking the resident, I push into the house and lock the door behind me. Staring at the familiar face, I grin as excitement floods my veins. “Did you miss me?”