Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Nothing.
Seconds ticked by like hours. The silence had her straining her ear for any sound she could pick up. Noises registered from all around.
A cicada.
The hum of an HVAC.
A bird calling from somewhere down the block.
But not so much as a peep from inside Lock’s house. “Forgive me for this,” she muttered as she tried the handle. It didn’t budge.
The garage. It had been open. She raced down the porch steps and into the garage, where she grabbed the doorknob leading into the house.
Locked.
“Dammit!” she shouted as she shook the doorknob so hard she worried it’d fall off the hinges. Maybe she should break it down. Was that going too far?
Brooke. She should call Brooke.
Her breathing bordered on hyperventilation as she fumbled with the phone, pressing on the last name called. Brooke answered before the phone even rang in her ear. “Find him?”
“No. His bike isn’t here. But the garage is open, which isn’t like him. God, Brooke, do you think something happened?”
“Don’t panic. I’m getting Curly to call the guys and have them search places he likes to go.”
“Places,” she said as her heart sank. “Like bars or… drug dens?” Was that even a thing? Where did someone hang out when they had a drug problem? And what the hell could have happened to send him back there?
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Brenna. He was doing great. The only reason he’d gotten in trouble was because of the massive amount of shit life dumped on him at once. He’s not in that place anymore.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach as she stared out of the garage and across the lawn.
Where are you?
Her vision blurred as she gazed into the distance. She swiped at a leaky eye with an annoyed huff. Crying wouldn’t help anything, but she couldn’t stem the rush of fear and despair.
“You still there, Bren?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Brooke said. “Curly is mobilizing the troops.”
“Wait.” She jogged to the edge of the lawn, squinting to see farther. Far down the block, a figure walked on the sidewalk toward her. Something about the way they moved rang familiar. Her heart went into overdrive. “Oh, my God, Brooke, I think I see him. He’s-he’s walking. Why is he walking? Where’s his bike?”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“No.” She squinted again and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh Florida sun. “I think… yes! Yes, that’s him. I see him.” She started in Lock’s direction, walking so fast she was nearly running.
“Okay. Go. I’ll keep Curly on standby. Call me back.”
“Thank you, Brooke.”
“Forget that nonsense. We’re family.”
Brenna shoved the phone in her pocket and sped up to a flat-out run. Lock didn’t change his pace even as she ran closer. Something was wrong, for sure. He didn’t appear hurt—she didn’t see a limp—but his gait was weighed down with a heaviness that had her senses on full alert.
“Lock!” she shouted, waving her arms as she ran toward him. If any of his neighbors happened to glance out their windows, they’d see a frantic woman racing down the sidewalk, waving her arms like a lunatic.
But she didn’t care.
All she could think about was getting to Lock.
The second she reached him, she flung herself forward, slamming into him in a full-body hug. “Jesus, you scared me,” she whispered near his ear as she embraced him. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She panted, struggling to catch her breath. “Give me a minute. I need to do more cardio.”
A little part of her brain registered his nonreaction as she clung to him, huffing and puffing. He hadn’t wrapped his arms around her, relieved her fears, or even spoken.
Dread filled her.
“Lock?” she asked as she drew back. The blank look in his eyes had an icy wave washing over her. “What’s wrong?” she whispered. It wasn’t a question of if something was wrong, but what. Everything about him spoke to devastation—the slumped shoulders, the empty stare, the downturned mouth.
“I need you to do something for me. Right now,” he said, staring down at the cracked sidewalk.
She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Of course. Anything.”
“Reach into my right pocket.”
Brenna frowned as she shook her head in confusion. “Um, okay. Front or back?”
“Front.” His monotone voice had her terrified.
Any other time, she’d have thought this was a sexy, playful game, but today, the notion didn’t cross her mind. He didn’t move a muscle as she reached into his pocket. Her fingers encountered something that felt like a small bag. As she pulled it out and lifted it, her eyes widened, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from deep inside.
Her gaze flew to his.
“Keep it away from me.”
“O-okay.” She knew less than nothing about drugs, but the white powder in a small baggie needed no explanation.
“Promise me.” He swallowed. “I can’t be trusted.” The admission made him hate himself. She could see it plain as day across his face.