His full lips parted slightly, and he looked around as if Quinn might appear from thin air. “What? No, of course not. Isn’t she…? I thought she’d be…?”
“At her wedding?” Zoe crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well, color us all surprised on that one, but she’s not.”
“But then…” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his strong jaw twitching. “She’s okay, isn’t she? I mean, nothing could have happened to her on the way there?”
“She was there. I helped her get into her dress and then… Look, I don’t need to give you all the details. All I know is that she’s gone and it’s your fault.”
“My fault? How the hell is it my fault?”
“So you’re going to stand here and tell me you didn’t go to the wedding because work got in the way?” She jutted her hip to the side and looked around the lot. Each of the guys had gone back to work, but since nobody had turned a single tool back on, she had to guess that they were most definitely eavesdropping.
Fine, she thought ruefully, let them listen. Let them learn that their boss is a low-down, dirty piece of—
“Quinn knows why I didn’t go,” he said simply, but apparently he’d noticed the crowd of
onlookers, too, because he caught her by the arm and started leading her back toward the chain-link fence. “Come on, let’s talk about this in private.”
She struggled to break free of his grasp, but he was too strong for her, no matter how oddly gentle his touch was. “You ruined everything. She was all set. She was going to have a solid life. Why did you have to go and shove your big nose into everything?”
When they’d finally reached her car, he released her, and she stroked the place his fingers had touched her, if only in hopes of making him feel guilty for manhandling her.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“I already told you. Quinn—”
He nodded. “Quinn left. But does she have her phone? Did she leave a note? Did you check her apartment?”
“Of course I checked her apartment. She left her phone, though.” She pursed her lips then added, “And a note.”
“What did the note say?”
“What does it matter?” God, why were they wasting time like this? Every second they spent going over the finer points of Quinn’s disappearance was another second she was slipping farther and farther away, another second they couldn’t get back.
“It matters. Now, what does it say?”
Reluctantly, she pulled the note from the pocket of her dress and handed it to him. She waited as his eyes zoomed back and forth while he read Quinn’s words with what looked like a fierce kind of determination.
When he’d finished reading, he handed the note back to her, his jaw set and tense again.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Well, it looks like she’s been perfectly clear. She wants time to think things over.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do.”
He turned away from her, but Zoe couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She flew at him, arms raised, and punched him square in the back.
“Oh no, you don’t! You don’t get to just walk away and pretend you’re not the one who put all these doubts in her head to begin with. I’m going to find my sister, and you are going to help me.” She leveled him with a glare, but he only sighed.
“Zoe, even if I wanted to help you—which, to be perfectly clear, I do not—how would I go about doing that?”
“You’re her best friend. You know her better than anyone else. If anybody is going to track her down, it’s you. Now, you are going to help me.”
“Don’t you think—?”
“No. Now are you going to help me or what?”
"Come on." Ian grabbed her forearm and pulled her even farther from the men staring at them. She tried to rip herself away, but he held on tighter, leading her more firmly.
"I won't be manhandled, again," she protested. "You're just trying to—"