Another hesitation. “We haven’t been able to contact him in the past two days. He missed an appointment yesterday and...” A pause. “Never mind. I just wanted to ask if you had talked to him. Goodbye, Ms. Page. I’ll be waiting for you to drive by.”
And hangs up.
Ass.
Why wouldn’t Riot answer the agency’s phone? Maybe he left town? He never mentioned anything like that to me. Then again, he also didn’t say goodbye when he left, and didn’t give me an explanation, so what do I know?
From what little he told me, I had the impression he couldn’t afford to leave the agency because he needed the money quite desperately for something.
My stomach is a hard knot of tension. Something’s off.
I need to see Riot. All of a sudden that need is drowning me, choking me. Who can reassure me he’s okay?
Or at least tell me where he lives so I can check on him myself?
The bar. Gale.
Of course.
Quickly I send Corey a text to let him know I’ll be meeting him later on, and head home to change and wait and bite my nails until it’s time to go out.
***
I’m at the bar ahead of the time I told Corey. A little early for hitting the bars, but hey. I’m here on a mission, and I just couldn’t sit on my butt any longer.
Not when fear is curdling my thoughts.
He’s fine, I keep telling myself. He’s just...what? Out of town visiting relatives? On a mini vacation he forgot to tell his employers about?
Jeez.
This makes no sense. Unless something happened to him. Something bad.
And here I go again, stressing until I think I might puke.
Corey’s late. It’s frigging cold, so I enter and wade through the early crowd, making my way to the bar. I don’t know where Gale could be, if he’ll even be here tonight.
This is crazy.
Only Riot did say this was Gale’s favorite bar, and that he comes here often. So, fingers crossed he won’t break that tradition tonight.
I order an alcohol-free beer, as I’ve been on a light diet for some days now and don’t want to wander around drunk, and yuck, now I know why Corey says it tastes like piss.
Grimacing, I put my bottle down, look around…and there he is. Gale. A flash of blond hair, a bearded face, icy eyes.
Abandoning my non-beer, I rush toward him, shoving my way between people—and girls. Many girls, buzzing around him like bees.
Ugh.
“Gale.” I try to get past a tall brunette whose tits are spilling out of her tight blouse, and she drags me behind her.
“Wait in line, bitch,” she hisses.
What the hell?
“I need to talk to Gale.” I struggle, slap her hand. “Get off me. Gale!”
“Stop it,” she mutters, still holding me back. There’s serious muscle hiding in that super thin body. “Jesus, just wait—”