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I growl wordlessly, which makes the bastard chuckle. I swear to Christ, if he wasn't the best hacker in the state, I'd hang up on the fucker and hire someone else. But he's the best of the best, and I want the best searching for my baby girl. Waking up without her this morning shaved years off my life. I've been losing my mind ever since.
Why'd she run out on me?
I plan to find her and ask. Whatever the problem is, I'm going to solve it. I've spent the last two years slowly losing my mind without her. I'm not going back there again—especially not now that I know what it's like to have her in my arms. She's meant to be mine. She needs me.
I fucking knew I should have pushed for more when I saw her crying last night, but I let her convince me that the tears were just emotional overwhelm. It was a careless mistake I won't be making with her again. Clearly, something upset her. Something important enough to send her running from me.
The possibilities are eating me alive. Did I hurt her? Did I push for too much, too soon? Did I frighten her? I can't fucking stand the thought that I did something to send her running. I'm supposed to protect her, care for her. Instead, I may have unknowingly destroyed the fragile bond we forged between us last night.
The thought is intolerable.
"Call me as soon as you have something," I snap at Finn, slamming the receiver down. I need to get the fuck out of my office. It's stifling in here, as if the walls are closing in on me. I've already driven all over Silver Spoon Falls this morning, looking for her. But I don't know where to look.
Roman refuses to give me her address. He said he'd contact her on my behalf. If she wants to hear from me, he'll have her reach out. I know that's the way this shit works. It's the safe way to do it to protect her and every other woman who steps foot through the doors of the club. But it's pissing me off anyway. She isn't just some woman I met at the club. She's my damn soul.
I snatch my keys from the desk and storm out, heading for the private elevator leading down to the parking garage. The ride down lasts a lifetime. The man reflected back in the chrome and glass walls isn't even recognizable. He's a wild man—his hair all fucked up, wild lights in his eyes, unshaven.
I'm a Daddy on the edge. My little girl has pushed me there. When I find her… Christ, when I find her…
As soon as I make it right between us and fix whatever upset her to the point of sneaking out, I'm going to fuck my way into her soul so she never thinks about leaving me again. I want her bound to me in every way.
I know she wants the same things I do. It was written all over her face last night.
So what scared her to the point that she ran this morning?
I slip into the driver's seat of my Audi, slamming the door behind me, determined to find out. One way or another, I'm going to find her.
The engine purrs to life, the car vibrating beneath me. I latch my seatbelt and take off. I make another circuit through town, looking for her. Every petite blonde I see has me doing a double take, but they're never her.
I hit the button on my navigation menu, pulling up my contact list. My finger hovers over Finn's name before I quickly decide not to call him again. The man has an endless well of patience, but I think I might be pushing it at this point.
I dial Roman instead.
"I know you said you can't give me her info, but I'm asking again anyway," I growl as soon as he answers. "I need to know she's okay. If you want to call her with me on the phone to protect her privacy, I'll settle for that, but I need to know she's okay."
"I can—"
"I never ask for anything, Roman." I grip the steering wheel. "But I'm asking for this."
"You don't need to—"
"Just call her. Please."
"Would you stop interrupting and let me speak? Jesus Christ, Micah," Roman growls, amusement lacing his tone. "I'm trying to tell you that I just spoke to Corey Fulton about your girl."
"Where is she?" I growl, my heart thudding against my breastbone.
"Stop whatever you're doing and get your ass home because she's there right now."
"Jesus." I flip a U-Turn in the middle of the road, ignoring the gray minivan that blares the horn at me as if I'm in danger of striking it. I'm not. It's not even remotely close to me. And then I hit the gas. The R8 shoots forward, the speedometer quickly climbing. "I'm on my way."
"He had another message for you."
"Tell me," I growl.
"If you break her heart, he's going to break both of your legs."
"Not going to happen."
