I didn’t know why I bothered looking for her. Maybe I was hoping for once my gut instinct was wrong and she was lying in our bed naked waiting for me. Hope. Fuck. Never have fuckin’ hope. I knew better.
I kicked open the bedroom door and my eyes locked on the empty bed.
The sheets were tucked into the mattress. London didn’t tuck the sheets in. When we went to bed, she always pulled them out from under the mattress so if she made the bed, she didn’t tuck. I tucked.
Meaning she hadn’t slept in the bed since I left thirteen days ago.
I’d been in Toronto finding info on Chaos’s new assignment, Lionel. Vault’s email stated Chaos was to get the files on his computer, meaning she had to get an invite back to his place and since he liked to hang out at Avalanche, a bar Chaos knew well, she was going to get his attention and get that invite.
I’d also looked further into Tristan Mason because it didn’t sit right that he happened to start showing up at Chaos’s coffee shop at the same time as Vault asked to have him looked into.
I hated coincidences.
Fuck, thirteen days. Thirteen days I’d been gone and without contact with London. How long had she been gone? But the bigger question was had she run? Did she regress? Had I left her too soon? Or had she gone home to see her father? I knew she was worried about him, but I’d told her about Vault. She knew how dangerous they were.
My gaze slid to the chair I’d sat in the day I’d brought London here and waited for her to wake. Then to the bathroom where I saw her toothbrush sitting in the holder on the counter. I walked across the room, into the bathroom then ran my thumb over the bristles—dry.
The idea that Vault had found my house, found London…
I swiped my arm across the counter top sending everything flying into the wall then crashing to the floor. I stormed out of the bathroom, pulled my cell from my back pocket and tapped the code then contacts then went to hit Dr. Westbrook’s number.
I stopped.
Mistakes. That was exactly what rage did. Reacting without thinking and that was what I’d nearly done. Calling her father was a mistake. Vault knew every incoming number and every outgoing number on his phone.
“Fuck, London. Where the hell are you?”
I switched phones, tapped, and then held it to my ear. He picked up on the first ring. I interrupted his ‘what’s up’ with, “She’s gone. Need eyes on the street.”
“Okay. How long?” Ernie asked.
I walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out the milk and read the stamped date on the top. Expired six days ago. I tossed it into the sink. “I left thirteen days ago. Could be gone since then.”
“She have wheels?”
“No.”
“Take me five hours to fly there.”
I frowned. “Where the fuck are you?” Since London had been with me, I hadn’t spoken to Ernie. He’d said he was taking some time, meaning he was going somewhere hot and lying on the beach doing fuck all except women. “Just get here. I’m calling in my marker with Deck on this.”
I hung up.
Deck suspected Connor was alive. Deck, who Chaos was in love with. Deck, who had been a pain in my ass. But Deck had skills and I’d use them. I’d use anyone and anything to get her back.
I walked into the living room, pushed the couch aside and crouched. My palms slid over the hardwood until I felt the slight indent. I pulled out my knife, stabbed it between the two pieces of hardwood where the dip in the floor was and peeled back one of the boards.
I reached inside and pulled out the leather satchel that held my numerous fake passports and all the paperwork I hid from Vault, including the deed to the house. I grabbed the larger knapsack that had a few of my knives, and cash. It wasn’t my only cash because I didn’t like it all in one place, but it was enough.
Then I grabbed the last bag. A bag I never wanted to use, but the reality was London may not have run away or gone to see her father. There was a third possibility. Despite there being no indication of a struggle, Vault could’ve found my house. Found her.
I unzipped the last bag and carefully pulled out the device.
No attachments.
No ties to anything.
But it was too late for that. Maybe a couple of months ago this would’ve been easy, but as I set the device and placed it on the coffee table, tightness gripped my chest.
She lingered here and part of me didn’t want to destroy that. No, not part of me—all of me.
I stood, snagged the two bags, the heavy one slung over my shoulder and started for the door.