Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

A white Toyota with an Uber placard pulls up, and Noah bends to press a kiss to my forehead. "Your chariot," he says, while I continue to stand mute, overwhelmed by everything he's just said. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

17

Noah glanced at his watch. Two minutes past nine. Which was exactly two minutes later than the last time he'd looked.

And Kiki still wasn't there.

He'd been disappointed to find her office dark when he'd gone early for coffee and pastries, but he'd assumed she slept in. After all, he'd considered doing that very thing, but the allure of seeing her had forced him out of bed and into the kitchen, where four ibuprofens and three cups of coffee had reduced his hangover to a dull throb.

But now his disappointment had turned to worry. He grabbed his phone and called Maia's extension. "Anything?"

"Not in the last fifteen minutes," she said, referring to his previous call. But she didn't sound irritated. On the contrary, she sounded concerned, too. "Hang on," she continued. "We have each other's logon information. I can track her phone."

"Good." He'd intended to do that himself through a few back doors he still had access to from his Deliverance days. He tapped his fingers while he waited for Maia to report back.

There'd been a few moments when he'd worried that he'd pushed Kiki away last night. That by putting her in the Uber and sending her home, he'd made her rethink their connection and where they might be going personally.

Or, worse, that he'd embarrassed or pissed her off.

None of which were good scenarios, but they were possibilities that he could handle. That they could handle. And the moment she arrived in the office, he'd intended to push work aside, sit her down, and have a serious conversation.

That, however, was no longer the nature of his fear. And as he paced in front of his office window, his mind filled with dark images of twisted metal and broken bones and blood spattered on concrete.

Oh, dear God, no . . .

"Noah?" He'd never heard such a tentative tone in Maia's voice.

"Tell me." He stood stiff, steeling himself against bad news.

"I don't know," she said. "It says her phone's turned off. The last recorded location is South Lamar and Oltorf."

"That's the route she likes to take to downtown," he said. "Down Lamar toward the river."

"Do you think--"

"Mr. Carter?" Carina burst into his office, her face flushed. "Ms. Porter's brother is on line two."

"Maia, I--"

"Yes, go! Call me back."

He pushed the button to switch lines. "What happened? Where is she?"

"She's fine," Cam said. "Banged up, but fine. I'm with her. She's in the ER at Dell," he said, referring to the still-new teaching hospital by the University of Texas campus.

"I tried to call."

"Yeah, well, her phone's in pieces. I'm listed as her emergency contact. Do you want me to--"

"I'll be right there."

"She'll probably be released in a few hours. It's okay. You--"

"I said, I'd be right there."

There was a pause, then Cam said, "Text me when you get here, and I'll tell you how to find us."

Noah scribbled Cam's number, said he'd be there soon, then barked orders at Carina to fill Maia in.