Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Ritchie was also a person Miranda would open her door for if he showed up.
“Maude, thank you, but I have to go,” I said, turning and running back toward my car as I reached for my phone, immediately dialing Cam.
“What? Did Miranda’s phone die again?” he asked, sounding distracted as he answered.
“What? Cam, put Miranda on right now.”
“I can’t do that since I’m not with her.”
“What do you mean you’re not with her? Did you drop her off at home already? She was supposed to call me.”
“Brock, what are you talking about? I didn’t see Miranda today.”
“She had a lunch date with you and your boyfriend,” I told him, feeling my stomach tense.
“Ah, no. I mean… no. That would not be happening.”
“Because Miranda fired him and he’s holding a grudge?” I asked, throwing myself into my car.
“How did you…”
“I was following a lead who told me. When you should have been the fucking one to do it. Why would Miranda think you two had a date if you didn’t? I saw her texting you.”
“I haven’t talked to her since before the benefit last night.”
“Cam,” I said, voice serious as I broke into the traffic to the sound of horns objecting to me cutting them off. “Check your texts,” I demanded, my tone hard.
“Okay. I mean I always have my phone on m…”
“What? What is it?”
“See you at Bonnie’s,” he said. “I didn’t… I didn’t send this, Brock,” he said, tone bleak. Because he was putting the pieces together too.
“Call your boyfriend,” I demanded. “And keep calling. Get him to answer. I’m heading back toward the apartment building,” I said, hanging up.
“Lennon,” I hissed to myself, then dialed him up.
“Brock, what can I do for you?”
“Where is she?” I growled at him, and his tone immediately changed.
“Miss Coulter?” he clarified, but I could already hear him typing as I ran a red.
“Yeah. Where is Miranda?”
“Fuck,” he hissed, sounding upset.
“What?”
“Well, according to two of her devices, she is at home.”
Fuck.
Goddamn it.
She hadn’t had the necklace on.
And she didn’t have pants to clip that other one on either.
“What about the keychain?” I asked, knowing she had her keys on her. She always did.
“It’s showing up about four blocks from her apartment building. Steady, not moving,” he told me.
“Okay. Stay on the line. I need you to tell me if I’m getting closer.”
“I’m right here,” Lennon agreed, all business.
It felt like it took ten times longer to get back to her building as it had taken to leave it, despite breaking every traffic law in the book. Including double parking as I got to the building, flying out and ignoring Frank’s objections as I ran down the street.
“Yep, that’s the street. Take the right,” he demanded. “Now a left. A parking lot, it looks like. Do you see her?”
“No,” I said, stomach tightening at what I did see parked there.
Her town car.
With the back door open.
I ran forward, looking inside, seeing no one.
But her purse was sitting on the seat, contents spilled and spread over the chair and ground.
Including the keychain.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” I yelled, slamming a fist on the side panel, a movement that was hard, sure, but shouldn’t have made the whole back end wiggle.
There was someone in the trunk.
“Am I calling the police?” Lennon asked, tone tight. Because, despite his formal way of addressing them, Lennon cared about all of his clients. He took any harm that came to them personally.
“Give me one minute,” I said, going into the driver’s seat to pop the trunk, then rushing back toward it to pull it open.
And there he was.
Mitchell.
The driver.
Bound and gagged.
“Sounds like someone trying to scream through a gag,” Lennon said, clearly knowing that sound a little too well.
“Where is she?” I asked as I pulled the gag out of the man’s mouth.
“I don’t know!” Mitchell said, trying to get himself out of the trunk, leaving me to take pity and undo his wrists. “I was tossed in here. Then I felt the car idling. Then moving. I heard Miranda talking. Then I heard her scream. Then… silence,” he said, eyes looking glassy, like he was ready to get teared up about it.
“Was it Ritchie?” I asked, watching as his eyes widened.
“Yes!”
“Fuck,” I growled.
“Who is Ritchie?” Lennon asked.
“Miranda’s assistant’s boyfriend,” I told Lennon. “Do a search for—“
“I’m already on it,” Lennon said. “We are going to find her,” he assured me. And himself.
Yes.
We had to find her.
Because I was pretty sure I was falling in love with her…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Miranda
I was just so… happy.
God, that word wasn’t good enough.
New shoes made me happy.
Good coffee made me happy.
Brock made me… enraptured. Euphoric.
Blissful.
Those were the only words that even came close to how I was feeling as I woke up in his arms, as I shared coffee in bed with him, even as I moved away from him to get dressed.