Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"Please hold while we locate the vehicle."
I give Marcus a thumbs up and he rubs his fingers together. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out his cash and toss it onto the counter. Knotting my hands together, I close my eyes and wait for the voice to give me a hint to my soulmate's location.
“Mr. Sharp, if you have a pen, I have the location."
I open my eyes and move closer, and my stomach heaves. I feel like throwing up, but I haven’t eaten anything in almost a day.
"Go ahead.” Marcus pushes the page toward me, along with a pen.
"8912 Evergreen Trail, San Francisco, California. Please know that, if you wish, we can remotely disable the engine."
Marcus glances at me, and I shake my head in response. "That won't be necessary. Thank you for your help."
"Thank you for calling Eurowatch, Mr. Sharp. And thank you for being a member of the Aston Martin family."
Marcus reaches out and ends the call. "That help?"
“It does, thanks." I key the address into my phone and grab the paper, my mind mentally walking through the next steps. I should call Jillian. Get her involved, or at least in the loop before I head wherever Brant is.
I come to a sudden stop before the door, and he bumps into me from behind.
"What?" He steps back. "Everything okay?"
I stare at my phone screen. The first search engine result is the property appraiser site for San Francisco County. 8912 Evergreen Trail is a home, purchased for seven million dollars a decade ago by Jillian Sharp.
I yank at the front door, my fury propelling me forward.
"What's wrong?" Marcus calls after me, and I glance back to see him in the door, his hands braced on either side of the frame.
I pause and swivel back toward him. I thrust the paper at him. "Call them back. Find out how long his car has been there. Then text me and let me know."
“That’s going to cost you another—” His hands raise when he sees the fire in my glare. "Okay. Just joking. I'll call them."
"Now!" I bark out, my steps increasing to a jog as I head toward my car.
My suspicions are confirmed when the text from Marcus comes through, the message displaying on my windshield’s heads up display.
SINCE FRIDAY NIGHT
My fury, which had been building in my chest since the moment I identified her address, whipped through me like a snapped wire. That bitch had stood on her front porch and lied to me; his car probably hidden away in one of the adjacent garages. She’d let me stand there guilt-stricken and led me to believe that Brant was wandering around lost, unsure of who he was, in the middle of a psychological break because of my actions. That smug, judgmental glare, while he had been inside her house the whole time. Had he stood at one of the large upper windows and watched me? Is he mad at me? Is she using this time to turn him against me? I need to know what is being said and where his mind is. If he’s in a strong place or a weak one.
Early traffic is beginning to clog the 101 as I head toward Jillian’s neighborhood. I should have recognized the address the moment it had been announced by the Aston Martin representative. Granted, Brant and I have driven to her home so often that I knew it by sight, not address. Still … I bite my lip and try to organize my thoughts. I roll my shoulders, trying to relieve the tight bundle of muscles that was cramping along my upper back.
Okay, I told myself. It’s okay. Soon, I will see him. He’s safe. He’s not lost. His mind must be intact if he is at Jillian’s.
I just need to talk to him. To bring him back, because without him, I’m lost.
Chapter 70
Jillian lives in Nobb Hill, one of the snootier areas of San Francisco, if I have any right whatsoever to call anything snooty. I pull into her drive and park in the circular drive, shutting off the engine and staring at the ultra-modern house. There is a white late model BMW parked on the black pavers beside me. I look at it with new interest, trying to remember if it had been there yesterday. Coming up blank, I take the steps toward the front door. On the entry level, I pause and consider the fact that it’s barely seven a.m.
I try the level handle, unsurprised to find it locked. I glance at my phone, double-checking the time, then press the doorbell. Repeatedly.
My trepidation over the early hour disappears the moment Jillian swings open the large door. She’s already dressed, her hair in place, full makeup on. Her curious look turns to an impressive show of faux alarm upon seeing me. "What's wrong? Is it Brant? Did you find him?"