“Well, my stalker-ness may just save our asses tonight. Shit has officially hit the fan.” He glanced at Oliver. “You were right. Things are bad. We’ve got to find her.”
He pulled up the app and a red star popped up on the map. Anderson frowned. “She’s headed down the highway.” He looked back at us. “Toward home.”
Jackson shook his head. “That’s not good. She doesn’t know about her dad.”
“Know about what?” Oliver asked.
I sat in the back of the Mustang, my long legs cramped and antsy, listening as they explained what happened upstairs. The rumble of the engine made it hard to hear but it didn’t stop the wave after wave of anger that rolled through me. Noah had no idea how lucky he was that Anderson was the one that punched him. He was too civilized for actual violence. But me? I would have torn him to pieces.
“He was blackmailing her?” Oliver asked.
“And her father was spying on her,” Jackson said, adding, “and us.”
“Shit,” I muttered, looking out the window and into the dark. “So he knows everything.”
“Seems like it,” Anderson said.
“She’ll be crushed.”
Because that was what this was all about. What we’d spent months doing for this girl that we loved so much. Keeping her safe. Building her up. Making her feel sexy, wanted, and whole. There was a glitch in Heaven’s brain that told her otherwise, which was why we reminded her constantly.
But these two bastards came in her life and in a matter of days tore her down again, and it was my biggest goddamn fear she wouldn’t survive.
I tapped Oliver on the shoulder. “Drive faster.”
He pressed down on the gas, kicking the engine into high gear.
The car grew quiet. Oliver focused on the road. Jackson dialed and redialed her number. Anderson held out his phone and we watched the red star, the distance closing between where we were and where she was headed.
Until her star stopped.
“Where is that?” I asked, leaning over the seat.
“Outside Allendale.” Anderson zoomed in. “Looks like the gas station on Route 4?”
“It’s two-fucking-a.m. What is she doing there?” Jackson growled.
We watched silently as our little star got closer to hers. My adrenaline surged, thinking we’d make it to her.
“What? Where are you going?” Anderson muttered as the star started moving, taking a sudden U-turn.
“Is she headed back?” I asked.
Jackson pulled out his phone and dialed her number again. He slammed it against the seat when she didn’t answer.
“No. She’s going toward the coast.”
Oliver frowned. His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. “Is she going to see Justin?”
Not the best thing but certainly not the worst.
“Maybe, but I don’t think they talk much anymore,” Jackson said, leaning into the seat.
The Mustang ate up the miles, getting closer and closer. Anderson held up the phone. The star clung to the edge of the land—nothing but blue beyond. “She’s at the beach.”
“I don’t like this,” Oliver said.
The uneasy feeling in my chest blossomed into sheer panic. “I don’t either.”