Her Rock (Rocky Start)

Chapter One

Lydia

“I can’t believe she hasn’t answered us. What the hell was that message about?” I complain, plopping down on our sofa, kicking my feet onto the coffee table while my older sister quickly shoves them off.

“Girl, I know. We’re going down there today. Something is wrong, and Darcy’s so not herself.” Darcy’s my oldest sister and a grown woman, but we’re close. She usually doesn’t go this long without contacting us, and her message was vague—extremely vague.

“Maybe she hooked up with that photographer or the model she’s working with.” We don’t know the model, but the photographer is ridiculously hot and nice. I haven’t actually met him, but I’ve seen all his social media and Darcy has told us all about how great he is to the women, never hitting on them. Maybe he’s had a thing for Darcy all this time and they hit it off.

“That’s an idea. That could be why she’s so secretive. Still, I need answers. She can diddle whoever she wants, as long as we’re sure she’s okay.”

I pull out my phone and check my social media messages just in case there’s something there that I missed. There’s nothing in my regular messages, but in my other requests, I see a message from a man named Warrick.

Hello, I’m Warrick, and your sister Darcy was taken away by some brute.

“What?” I scream as Georgie pushes her head against mine to read the message. My heart races as I wait for details.

I shoot a message back. What do you mean she’s been taken?

Yes, he kidnapped her, but the police here aren’t doing anything about it.

“Who kidnapped her?” I exclaimed.

I type it into the message because he’s so damn vague.

All I know is they called him Rocky.

Rocky? Like the boxer? Georgie types.

Yeah. She was so afraid and screaming and then he had her locked up in the house.

Dread fills me, and I’m sure Georgie feels it too.

We’re on our way there. Thank you so much.

I stare at Georgie. “That doesn’t make any sense. We have to get down there.”

“Yes, we do. I’ll get the next flight out.” She dashes off toward her bedroom while I head into mine so that we can stuff as much as we can into our suitcases as fast as possible. Where’s Superman when you need him? Okay, he’s not real, but they added the TV show to HBO Max and a girl is addicted.

“Don’t forget to call your boss,” I call out as I rush into the living room for my charger.

“Shit. Okay. I totally forgot,” she says, leaning on her doorjamb.

Twenty minutes later, we’re out the door and on the way to the airport after notifying our employers that we have a family emergency. It feels like hours just getting to Midway. Time seems to be standing still as we wait for our flight. I Google the local police station in Lakeland and give them a call. “Hello, I’m calling because I believe my sister’s in trouble.”

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Darcy James.”

“One moment, please.” She sighs as if she’s exasperated with me, making me want to kick her in the teeth.

“We got another,” I hear before she puts me on hold. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Bitch got me feeling a bit froggy. Like I’m not already chomping at the bit, ready to fight someone.

I wait another minute while the terrible waiting music that’s full of static tries to ruin my hearing.

“Sheriff Marlowe,” a deep, masculine, grumpy voice answers, and suddenly all the adrenaline shifts in my body and heads south.

I gasp and then clear my throat while my sister raises her brow at me. “Finally,” I huff. “Hello, I’m calling about my sister Darcy,” I finish, waiting to hear that she’s been rescued.

“Oh, okay. We have enough reporters here, miss,” he dismisses me.

He’s not going to dismiss me that easily. I puff up my chest and let him have it. “Hey, asshat, you better listen up because I’m not happy. I’m not a reporter. I’m looking for my sister Darcy James.”

He chuckles, “Calm down, Spunky. Yes. I know who you’re talking about, but she says she’s fine and there’s nothing I can do about it.” The man’s voice goes straight through to my core, vibrating every single nerve of mine. I want to listen and obey him. I shake my head and laugh off that silly sentiment.

“What do you mean ‘You can’t do anything about it’? That’s bullshit.”

“Watch your mouth, little girl,” he growls. Heat floods my body at his tone for some unknown reason. I’ve never liked being told what to do by anyone—especially men—and yet, there’s a fluttering all through my body. My sister’s been kidnapped, and I’m getting hot and bothered by a man not willing to do anything about it. What the hell is wrong with me?