Return of the Bad Boy (Second Chance #4)

“Say again?” His hold tightened on the phone.

“Jordan and Hawk. They’re gone! I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was fraught with worry and fear.

His heart hammered, then almost stopped. Years ago, his buddy Evan had delivered a similar phone call about Rae. She’s gone. When Ev had called Asher to break that news, he’d meant “gone” as in the permanent sense. That thought, combined with his lack of sleep, buckled his knees.

The barrel couch caught him.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, each syllable shaking from fear.

“Jordan and I came home from the party and put Hawk to bed,” Emily explained, sounding slightly less hysterical. “I woke at four this morning, feeling like something was off, and noticed Hawk wasn’t in his room. And Jordan wasn’t in hers. My car’s gone, too. I called her cell phone. I texted her. Nothing.”

“Okay.” Asher held out a hand. It shook, too. “Okay, then she’s just somewhere, and they’re fine,” he said as much for his own comfort as for Emily’s.

“I don’t know where they are!”

“Em. Calm down.”

Gloria stepped into the living room, her eyes round with worry, her expression grave. She was wearing his T-shirt and panties and nothing else.

“I’ll come over and we’ll figure this out, okay?” He didn’t know what the hell he’d do once he got there, but getting there was at least doing something.

“Thank you, Asher.”

“Make coffee,” he told her. “I’ll see you soon.”

He said good-bye and dropped the phone on the couch, then propped his elbows to his knees and put his face in his hands. He was aware of Gloria shuffling closer, then her hands wrapping around his wrists. When he pulled his hands away from his face, he found her on her knees in front of him.

“What’s going on?” she asked, concern outlining each word.

“Jordan left with Hawk.” He put his hands together and rested his chin on them. “Emily said she took the car, has no idea where they went.”

Gloria’s eyes slid to the side, her teeth clamped onto her lip.

“I’m heading over there to be with Em. She’s going nuts.”

“This is my fault.” Gloria let go of his wrists, put her hands on his knees, and pushed herself to standing.

“No, Sarge.” He stood and touched her arm. “It’s not.”

“I’m going with you,” she said. He didn’t know if it was out of a sense of ownership or obligation, but he didn’t care.

“Good,” he said. And he meant it.

Because he needed her.

*



During the drive to Emily Trudeau’s house, one thought echoed through Gloria’s skull.

Did I just cost Asher his son?

Gloria had always been ready, fire, aim, the method she tended to favor. To her credit, it was sloppy but effective. Being able to react in an instant and be brave enough to try new things was responsible for her career, her life. Her moving to Evergreen Cove.

But rolling the dice with her life was one thing. Taking chances on Asher’s relationship with his son was another.

She glanced over at him from the passenger seat of his car. He looked downright grim with one hand at twelve o’clock on the steering wheel. Worry pulled his eyes tight and stubble surrounded his mouth, now pressed into a tight line.

“She’ll come back,” he said to the windshield.

Gloria wasn’t sure how he knew, or if he knew, but thinking that way was the only way to get through any of this with a scrap of sanity. “Of course she will.”

He flicked a look over at her and his mouth softened some. Then his hand landed on her thigh and squeezed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to her,” Gloria said. And she shouldn’t have. It wasn’t her business or her place. Now Jordan had run off with Hawk to God only knew where. It didn’t occur to her until just now that Emily might not be that happy to see her. “I probably should have stayed home.”

“Sarge.”

“If I’d had any idea Jordan would do something this stupid…” She watched the trees out the window.

“Sarge, come on.” Another squeeze on her thigh had her turning her head. He spared her a glance, then refocused on the road.

“You should take her to court and sue her for kidnapping,” Gloria said, suddenly angry. “If you ever had a shot at full custody, this is it.”

His hand left her leg to steer into Emily’s driveway. He turned off the car and unbuckled his seat belt, then faced her.

“Okay, Sarge. One thing at a time.”

“Ready, fire, aim,” she said.

His brow creased, but his lips curved into a tentative half-smile. “What?”

“I aim last. Problem-solve after I cause the problem.”

He slipped a hand into her hair and curled it around her neck, gripping her gently but firmly. “You don’t cause problems. You’re helping me out of one now.”

Jessica Lemmon's books