“All right, all right. We don’t need to go over all that again. Where is she now?”
“I don’t know! That’s why I’m calling you. She hasn’t picked up the phone since this afternoon. I figured she’d come home when she was hungry, but then Nicky didn’t come home either, and the school said?—”
“Nicky’s not home?” Alarm swamped me. It was one thing for Willow to fuck around, but Nickyalwayscame home. He was too addicted to that damn-fuckin’ X-Box not to. “Have you called him?”
“His phone’s off.”
“What about his mates?”
“Tristan said Willow picked him up.”
“Okay.” I absorbed that, pressing my fist into my chest. Honestly, give me a raging inferno or a gunfight. I was not built for this. My stress tolerance was below sea level. “Let me reach her, okay? She’s probably just dodging your calls.”
“She’s not allowed to do that. Locke, we discussed this when we got her a phone.”
“She wasthirteenthen,” I snapped. “You can’t control everyone around you forever.”
I hung up before my trauma-loosened mouth got the better of me, like it had with Nash a few weeks back. That shit had cost me precious time with the people I loved. I couldn’t let that happen again, no matter that it had been a hell of a long time since I’d loved Kara.
My phone rang again.
Kara.
I cancelled the call and rang Willow.
No answer.
I tried Nicky, but true to Kara’s word, it went straight to his full voicemail box.
Unease squeezed my heart. Orla stepped into my space. “What’s going on?”
“Willow’s done a bunk. I think. I’m not fuckin’ sure.”
“What do you know?” Her tone was all business. “There’s no way she’s heading for Dover, right?”
“To France? No. Kara has her passport and Nicky doesn’t have one.”
“Nicky’s with her?”
I didn’t answer, my mind moving too fast for coherency. My soul cried out for Nash’s mellow voice. For Logan’s. But my twin was heading into a night shift, and Nash... fuck. I rubbed my chest again, aware of Saint moving closer again, taking a breath to spit words I didn’t have time for. I loved Nash with all my heart, but my kids trumped everything.
He cut me off before I could tell him that whatever beef he had with me would have to wait. “There’s a tracker in her car.”
“What?”
“Willow’s car—” Saint coughed, his throat snarling up. He fought it, forcing enough air through to finish the sentence. “Alexei put a tracker in it—fuck.” He doubled over, hands braced on his thighs. Orla thrust his tea mug at him, but he waved it away. “It’s unactivated, but I can get into it.”
Life shouldn’t have been this hard. For him. For me. For my wild baby girl who just wanted to have fun. Alexei had put a fuckin’trackerin her car. I wanted to murder and hug him in equal measure.
I gave Saint the nod and he dashed out of the building and across the yard to the garage.
Orla fixed me with a look that was somehow hard and comforting at the same time. “It’s going to be fine. They’ve probably just gone to a city McDonalds or something.”
“Priest—”
“Isgone. That’s not what this is.”
Fuck.Fuck. I sucked in a breath and started after Saint.