*
The day passed, and he barely left my side. Even when I took a shower, he waited just outside the door. When I was done, he helped me back to my room and into my bed. I didn’t need the help, I was feeling a lot better, but I took it anyway. It was as if he needed to know he was doing something, anything, to save me. We didn’t talk much, and when we did, it was him asking me how I felt. At some point in the afternoon, his phone rang. Tiny and Doctor Polizi were on their way over.
The doctor asked me some questions, took some more tests and then spoke privately to Nate afterward. Tiny used the opportunity to sit on the bed with me. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Good.”
“That’s good. Make sure you tell Nate if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
He got up and sat on the chair Nate had been using. Then he looked down at me; his lips curled into a sad smile. It looked strange on him, this big burly guy who had barely spoken to me. “Bailey, Nate’s a good guy. He’s my best friend and the best man I know. And he cares about you… more than he’s probably letting on.” He looked over at the door as if making sure his words couldn’t be heard. “I know it’s hard, you being in here and not knowing what’s happening out there, but some stuff went down today, and I haven’t told him yet. I’m going to need him to step out for a bit to handle it. Will you be okay without him?”
“Is the stuff about me?”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “But it’s nothing you need to worry about. We’ll take care of it. I know you’re struggling, and now’s probably not the best time to be calling in a favor from you.”
“What do you need?”
“Nate—he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He can’t help it. And he can’t help caring about you the way he does. If there’s anything you can do to relieve some of his worries, then I need you to do it. For him, Bailey. I need you to do it for him.”
Nate
Bailey smiled up at me, a sight that made my stomach flip.
“Are you sure?” I asked her.
“Of course. I’ll be fine. Go do your thing.”
My lips pressed tight as I glanced over at Tiny, pleading with him to just take care of whatever needed to be done. Even though he said it was urgent, and something I had to deal with on my own, I knew it wouldn’t be as important as Bailey.
She added, “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll just stay in bed until you get back. I won’t move.” She drew a cross over her heart with her finger. “Swear.”
“Give us a minute,” I told Tiny.
Once he’d stepped out of the room, I sat down on the edge of her bed, watching her smile get wider. “Are you sure?” I asked again.
She nudged me with her knee. “I’m sure. You’ve done so much already. I’ll be fine.”
I placed my hand on her forehead to check her temperature, or, at least, make it look that way. I just wanted a reason to touch her. “Okay.” I leaned down, seeing her eyes close just before my lips met her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
I left the house smiling, but the smile was wiped the second I got in Tiny’s car, and he handed me a piece of paper.
“When did this happen?” I asked, staring down at the missing persons report.
Bailey Anne Wright.
And her picture, the picture PJ had taken.
“Last night.”
My heart stopped. “Who filed it?”
“I’m working on it.”
Finally tearing my gaze away from the picture, I asked, “So where are we going?”
“To talk to PJ.”
*
We pulled up just outside Harwood’s Deli, where Tiny had gotten word that PJ was running his mouth about Bailey and dropping names that shouldn’t be dropped in the open. That’s when Jerry, the owner, called Tiny and asked him politely to get the man out of his store. Which was odd, because PJ and Jerry were friends, and they spent a lot of time together considering the deli was PJ’s territory.
Pulling my hood over my head, I stepped inside, surveying the almost empty store before eyeing Jerry. Luckily, he was on our payroll and understood what my presence meant. PJ got up from his stool at the counter. “Well, well, well. I wonder what it is that could possibly bring you to me?”
My jaw tightened as I looked him up and down. My gaze flicked over to the owner. “Close the shop, Jerry.”
He clapped his hands together. “Everyone out.”
There were only two people in the store, and they were more than happy to vacate. PJ went to sit back down, but I gripped his arm and sent a silent message to Jerry—one that he understood. He moved around the tiny deli and closed all the blinds, then locked the door from the inside. The entire time, I fought to keep my rage in check. Feeling my pulse spiking through my body, I waited until Jerry had made himself scarce in the back room before fisting PJ’s collar. I pushed him until his back hit the counter and my face was inches from his. Then I grabbed my gun and held it to his head. It took some time for him to register what was happening. It always did with me.