No, it was crashing down around me right now.
Chapter Eleven
Hayes
The smell of burnt coffee assaulted my nostrils as I entered the bookstore. My brows snapped together as I scanned the espresso bar and my gut tightened at the sight of Sarah scrambling behind the counter. The giant maroon espressomachine was shooting off steam, letting out a groan that sounded like an expensive tax write-off. Customers were flooding the space, waiting with impatient scowls on their faces.
“Hayes?”
My neck snapped in the opposite direction, finding a very flustered Carrie standing at the checkout counter. Her short curly hair was pulled out of her face by a large pink clip, her round cheeks bright red, eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Where’s Rossy?” I demanded.
Margo wasn’t here, that was very clear, but before I could go hunt her down, I needed to have a conversation with her boss.
“Uh, in the back, I think?” she stammered, handing a customer a receipt. “We’ve been a little slammed all day. What are you—Hayes!”
I was already moving, weaving through the new release tables, heading through the center aisle of the stacks, my eyes on theemployees onlysign on the far wall. I didn’t bother knocking. Instead, I yanked the metal door open and stormed into the storage room. The door banged against the wall, shaking the empty boxes lined along the walls. Rossy, who was still in the middle of the room with his back to me, jumped. He spun, putting on his glasses, lowering the sale sticker sheets in his hand.
“Good Lord, Mr. Mitchell,” he rasped. “Is there something wrong?”
“You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on with Margo,” I clipped. I kicked the door closed, folding my arms over my chest. “Where is she?”
“I let her have the day off,” he answered calmly. He stared at me for a moment. “I assume Mr. Doss has spoken to you.”
“Ash hasn’t said shit to me. Why is he driving Margo’s car back to Astoria?”
He moved, walking over to the chair in the corner, where scissors and various sizes of tape sat. He dropped the heavy sheets of stickers on top of the supplies, causing one of the rolls to crash to the ground as he let out a sigh. “You know, I’ve been mulling this over all morning, whether I should get Red Snake involved—”
“I should’ve been your first call.”
Rossy looked back at me. “And why, Mr. Mitchell, after you’ve clearly hurt her in some capacity, would I call you first instead of Grayson?”
My jaw clenched, and I took a single step forward, seething. “Because Grayson doesn’t care for Margo in the same way I do,” I damn near growled, fury coming off me in waves.
“If that’s the case—”
“What happened between Margo and me is our business. I fucked up, but I am going to do everything in my power to make it right. I can’t do that if she is in danger.”
A faint sigh of exhaustion left him as he plucked off his glasses, pulling out a cleaning cloth from his vest. Absent-mindedly, he cleaned the lenses, his eyes to the floor. “I don’t know if she is in danger necessarily.”
When he didn’t continue, I exhaled through my nose. “Rossy,” I bit off.
“Someone—or perhaps it was a glitch; we haven’t gone to her bank to get to the bottom of this because, coincidentally, she will not answer her door or her phone…” he rambled, trailing off.
“Rossy, what the hell are you talking about? Did something happen with her bank?”
He put his glasses back on and propped his hands on his hips. “Her adviser called her yesterday, and she drove to Seattle for an emergency meeting because her payment for her last semester of classes had been denied. According to what she told me, through her tears, the money was in the account and there had neverbeen a problem before this. Upon further investigation, it turned out that someone or something had drained her account.”
I nodded, looking at the floor. “How much?”
“Just over twenty thousand dollars.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I clipped, running a hand through my hair. “Why in the fuck didn’t she call Red Snake?”
Why didn’t she call me?
He hesitated. “She doesn’t want anyone to know. Not until I take her to the bank, at the very least.”