Counterfeit Love

"Got it," Malcolm said, snapping a picture with his own phone before tossing it back on the counter. "Was that so hard?" he asked, offering the man an eye roll before turning and making his way back out.

"Malc, give--" I started to demand, jogging to keep up with him, only to be cut off when he tossed his phone over his shoulder carelessly, making me scramble to catch it with my too-slow reflexes.

"That's why you need to sleep," he shot back at me when it bounced harmlessly off the floor in its thick rubber case.

"I will sleep when we get a pin on this guy," I told him, getting into his phone, plugging Ewan's last known phone number into my own phone. I couldn't do anything with it until I got back to Hailstorm, and the anxiety was making me bounce around in the passenger seat, fidgeting with my seat belt and the vents.

"What are you doing? We need to get back to Hailstorm," I snapped when he turned into a fast food parking lot.

"You need to eat."

"I need you not to tell me what I need to do," I shot back.

"Let me rephrase, you're going to eat. You pick or I do," he added, pulling up toward the drive-through.

"I'm not hungry."

"Suit yourself," he said, shrugging, barking a massive order at the intercom.

"You ordered half the menu."

"Figure your stubborn ass will want something I got," he said, shrugging as he reached for his wallet.

In the end, it turned out Malcolm beat me in the stubborn department, refusing to pull out of a parking spot until I picked something out of one of the five bags, and put it in my mouth.

I did so out of desperation to get moving, but once I started, I found myself ravenous. Running only on caffeine and no sleep messed my system, allowing me to plow through a bag and a half before my stomach decided it was at max capacity.

"Was that so hard?" he asked, putting the truck into reverse, getting us back on the road.It was the food's fault.

That I managed to pass out on the way back.

I woke up slowly, my face pressed against the door panel. My neck screamed in objection as I tried to straighten, slow-blinking out the window that showed me a steadily setting sun.

Setting?

That made no sense.

"Good to know if we ever need to calm your ass down, just gotta toss you in the car and drive you around like a baby," Malcolm's said, making me jolt and turn to find him sitting in the driver's seat.

"Jesus," I snapped, hand slapping over my heart. "Were you just sitting there this whole time watching me sleep?"

"No. Drove you around for a while. Then came here, handed off the information to Aunt Lo. Then came back while they got to work."

Work.

Work I was supposed to be doing.

"How could you let me sleep, Malc?" I demanded, nearly falling out of the truck, finding my legs racked with pins and needles from being folded at an awkward angle.

"You needed sleep."

"I was fine."

"You were dead on your feet. You wouldn't get shit of quality done if you kept on like that."

"I can go for more than one day without sleep if I need to."

"If you want to have a breakdown, sure," he agreed, standing by, watching as I wiggled some life back into my legs. "If you didn't need sleep, Chris, why did you pass out for almost ten hours?"

"When did you get so damn bossy?" I asked, slamming the truck door.

"Learned from the best," he told me, lips twitching up. "Lo said to come see her when you got up," he told me, giving me a chin jerk as he went back to the driver's side, climbing in, and rambling away.

Ten hours.

Plus the travel time.

We had lost so much time.

If the destination was Louisiana, Finch would be there by now. Having who-knew-what happen to him.

Because he was someone who didn't bite his tongue, who liked poking at people. He certainly wasn't going to hop-to and do whatever Ewan wanted him to do.

It would take days or even weeks of persuasion before I thought Finch would give in.

Which meant there could be days or weeks where he would be subjected to various forms of persuasion.

Ewan's reputation said he was particularly adept and all-too-willing to use torture to get people to do what he wanted.

My stomach twisted at the idea, nearly doubling me over in the hallway right outside my mom's office.

"There you are. You look a lot better," she said, giving me a soft smile. "You were looking like a ghost the last time I saw you."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "Did you guys get anywhere with the phone?

"We got some pings, but none since he left the state. And we have every reason to believe he has left the state. Most likely heading back to Louisiana. But that is all anyone has gotten this far."