Hans immediately recognized his question was irrelevant, because he quickly followed it up with, “Oh, my God, sir, when you saw that you must’ve thought…but no! No! God, no! See, Maddie told me that Angus McFeeney—the man in the photo?” He looked from Grunge to Shayla and back. “Okay, yeah, that doesn’t sound real, so his name’s probably not really Angus McFeeney, but she told me he was from Palm Springs—that he was a really good friend of her mom’s.”
He stopped, and had to collect himself. “I’m so sorry,” he told them. “My mom died when I was around Maddie’s age, and I was shipped off to live with my dad, who I barely knew, and it was really hard. And I was trying to tell her that I was here if she needed someone to talk to, and I’m pretty sure I started to get choked up—because shit. She hugged me, and really, LT, that was all that it was. I was just trying to help, but I fucked it up, because I believed her about Angus McWhatever. And she asked me not to tell you—she begged me not to say anything about her cutting school, too. She said everything sucked because she missed her mom so much, and…I gave her my cellphone number, and she promised she’d call if she needed to talk more or…” He exhaled hard. “I should’ve called you, sir. I guess I was hoping that if I didn’t, you know, say anything and she didn’t get in trouble, then she’d know she could trust me and maybe she’d, I don’t know, I don’t know. It’s stupid when I say it out loud.”
“No, it’s not,” Shayla murmured. Grunge, however, clearly agreed with that stupid.
“I should’ve called you right then, sir,” Hans said, “and made her wait with me until you got there, but I didn’t. And I’m so, so sorry.”
CHAPTER TEN
Peter handled John Schlossman’s emotional apology with as much grace as he could manage.
Shay alone knew just how badly the encounter had rattled him—from the way he’d reached for her hand and held it so tightly….
She wasn’t sure if Peter’s sudden need for connection was the result of confirmation that they’d been right all along and Dingo was Maddie’s inappropriate older boyfriend, or if it came from his relief that SEAL Candidate Schlossman wasn’t the evil, revenge-seeking asshole that they’d feared he was.
Either way, she was glad to offer support, but every reason on earth for her to keep her distance from Peter echoed in her head. He could’ve really hurt John Schlossman. The violence with which he’d grabbed and thrown the younger man had been startling. And really, how well did she know him…?
As introductions were being made and information about the search for Maddie was being shared, Harry popped back in to offer his commentary.
What was that supposed to be? That full-body embrace? Was that really your idea of “good cop”?
Yes, it was. She’d been holding Peter back, like the good partner she was pretending to be. Problem was, there was just so…much of him. In order to get her arms all the way around the SEAL, she’d had to press her entire front against his entire back. It was only after she’d done it that she’d realized how awkward it was to be, essentially, spooning him.
Spooning? You were dry-humping his ass.
She hadn’t moved—she’d merely hung on while he’d tried to shake himself free and…God, yes, she’d had a bit of an intimate encounter with the man’s impossibly lovely, ridiculously firm derrière.
And girrrl, when you licked his ear?
She had not licked Peter’s ear. She’d merely murmured a few supportive Don’t accidentally kill hims.
Yeah, your lips touched flesh more than once, and admit it—you wanted to lick his ear and bury your nose in his neck because he smells so damn good.
“Shh!” Whoops, she’d shushed Harry aloud, and Peter heard and glanced at her.
Her friend, Peter. Her neighbor, Peter. Still a stranger to her in so many ways…
He stood out in this group of rather remarkably strong-and-handsome men, and not just because he was wearing that bright white uniform in contrast to the others’ shorts and jeans and T-shirts.
Right after the confrontation with Schlossman, Peter had received a text from Lindsey with an address in Van Nuys—an LA suburb, about a two-hour drive away—of a James and Mary Dingler, to whom “Dingo’s” maroon car was registered. His parents’ home address? Probably.
Lindsey’s police department contact had also pulled up a more local San Diego address with an apartment number for Dingo’s long-haired buddy, Daryl Middleton.
So now, along with the San Diego work address of Maddie’s friend Fiona’s aunt Susan, they had three potential leads to check out.
Four, including Maddie’s great-aunt Hiroko, Harry reminded Shay.
Peter, Izzy, and the two SEAL candidates who’d volunteered to go with him to Palm Springs were organizing and prioritizing who should be visited first. And since Shay was unfamiliar with locations and drive times, she had little to add, aside from “Might make sense to hold off on the trip to Palm Springs,” since that was just to pick up a bunch of packed boxes.
“Yeah, but the rental van has to go back by nine tonight,” Izzy pointed out.
“I’ve got the day free,” the handsome young man nicknamed Timebomb offered. “I can help. And maybe Q and Doe can—”
“I already called ’em,” wiry Seagull announced. “They’re in Tucson today—something with Q’s sister or cousin. How about Timebomb and I go to Palm Springs—” he turned to Izzy “—if you’re okay with handing off the van to us.”
“I am,” Izzy said.
Seagull continued, “That way you and Schlossman can head out to the Dinglers’ in Van Nuys, while the LT and Ms. Whitman stay local.”
“If it helps to split up even more,” Shayla volunteered, even as Harry sputtered No, no, no, no, no! What are you doing? “I could get my car from Tevin—”
Before she could finish, Peter’s cellphone rang. He glanced at it—his intention was clearly to let it go to voicemail, but then he did a double-take, and brought it to his ear with an authoritative “Peter Greene.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he listened for several long moments to whoever was on the other end, but then he covered the phone’s mic with his other hand as he said, “It’s Maddie’s aunt Hiroko. Maddie and Dingo were just at her house, asking to borrow money. If we hurry…”
“Go,” Izzy said. “Fly. We’ll figure this out and be in touch.”
Peter looked directly at Shayla and gestured for her to follow as he headed quickly for his truck.
Jesus, those blue eyes in that face with that uniform! “Shh!”
Peter spoke over her, thank God, again into the phone, “I thought the number looked familiar. Thank you so much for tracking me down, because yeah, Maddie’s gone AWOL. We’re on our way.” He hung up as he started his truck with a roar as Shayla, too, fastened her seat belt, and he pulled out of the parking lot.
“You gave Maddie three hundred dollars,” Pete heard himself echo Hiroko’s words. “In a personal check…?”