“We’ll find her. She’s going to be okay.”
Arteries pumping with adrenaline, muscles bunched, ready to spring into classic fight style, I had no direction and that was enough to drive any man crazy, let alone a man whose girl had been taken.
We’d moved from my pop’s to Miles’s place. Miles was sifting through all the shit on O’Shea’s computer. He’d logged on about an hour ago and Miles had gained access. It was late and I was going fucking nuts. I’d looked at every file and seen enough of O’Shea’s videos that I knew he was arranging these escorts for a reason and not for his sick pleasure.
As soon as my old man left, I found myself doing something I rarely did—taking refuge in a bottle of scotch.
I had to do something.
I was going crazy.
Time was passing and nothing, still nothing.
I had no leads.
My mind was so fucked that I had to escape the madness, even if for a little while. I wasn’t a drinker, so when I say a bottle, I don’t mean it all went in my mouth. Some landed on me, some on the floor, some on the couch.
But come on, I’d watched sex tape after sex tape of Lizzy, and other men, all the while O’Shea sitting by watching. Whatever the reason, there couldn’t be one strong enough to justify this shit. It was then that I realized just how fucked up O’Shea really was. And Elle had slept in the same house with him. The very thought sent me right over the edge.
Eight more hours and I could call Blanchet. When I’d called her earlier? she hadn’t turned me down like I thought she would. Hadn’t told me it wasn’t within her duties to find missing persons. All she told me was to pursue normal police channels and if Elle was still missing after twenty-four hours, to call her back. Obviously, the police couldn’t find Elle and I couldn’t find her on my own either. No matter what the consequences of getting the DEA involved, if they were able to find her, I’d deal with the fallout when it came.
I threw myself down and closed my eyes.
Where the fuck was she?
Someone was shaking me. “Come on, Logan, get up.”
My eyes came unglued in the blind-darkened room. I quickly looked around. I was in Miles’s townhouse. I must have passed out. My pulse was pounding. My hair was damp. My white T-shirt was glued to my sweat-plastered skin. “It’s like a fucking sauna in here.”
Miles opened the blinds. “You’re sweating all the alcohol out of your system.”
“Is that what it is?” I squeezed my eyes shut. Pressed the heels of my hands into my eye sockets as hard as I could, hoping that would help.
Miles nudged me and shoved a cup of coffee in my face. “O’Shea just arrived back at his office. Go take a shower. Your father stopped by earlier and left you some clothes. They’re on the counter. He said he had a couple of early clients and he’d be back.”
Even the cup was warm when I took it. “Anything?”
He shook his head.
There was a knock on the door, and I practically bolted out of my seat and swiped the bottle from the floor to shove it under the couch. Last thing I needed was for my father to see me like this.
Miles eyed me as he swung the door open. It was Declan and Peyton, not my old man.
“You look like shit,” Declan commented.
I gave him a slow nod and then glanced at the clock. It was just after eight. Two more hours and I would be sitting in Blanchet’s office.
“Good morning,” Peyton said. Declan had told her most of everything last night.
“Morning.” I looked toward Declan. “Don’t you have to be at work?”
He strode to the kitchen. “Charlene opened up and agreed to work the day. I’ll drop Peyton at the boutique and meet your old man.”
“Want a coffee, Peyton?” Miles asked.
“No, thank you,” she answered, and then looked at me with eyes like saucers. “Still nothing?”
I gave her a slight shake of my head. “Nothing. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back.”
“Anything on the computer?” I heard Declan ask Miles.
Jogging up the stairs, I felt my stomach turn and took the steps two at a time. The bathroom door was close enough that I was able to get to it to block out his answer. Yeah, there was shit on that computer. Nothing that could help me find Elle, but enough for me to know she needed to stay as far away from that freak as she could.
The bathroom was tiny and I pulled the shower curtain open to turn on the water. After I pissed about a gallon of what had to be the booze, I hopped in. Yesterday was a complete waste of a day, and today didn’t look promising.
Every lead led us nowhere.
I held onto everything I could. The feel of her lips on mine, the kisses she blew to Clementine when she spoke with her on the phone, the sound of her voice.