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Dalton pushed back from his chair. He needed to go check on her. He needed to see that she was safe.
“I have to go to her,” he muttered. He snatched his keys from his desk drawer.
“Where does she live?” Dallas asked.
“She’s been staying at her parents’.” Dalton dashed out of his office and made his way through the station. He ignored the curious stares. He burst out through the door and jogged to his work truck, bypassing his bike parked next to it. “I’m on my way there now.”
“I’ll meet you there.” Dallas disconnected the call.
Dalton hopped into the truck with a curse. Turning it on, he drove out the lot and onto the street. Dalton had thoughts of flicking his lights on but pushed that to the side. If he wasn’t going to a fire, he’d get in a shit ton of trouble.
He raced along the streets, heading toward the Graham’s home. He pulled up Anya’s number and tried calling her, but it just went to voicemail.
“Her phone is dead, or she has it off so she can write.” Even hearing it out loud didn’t comfort him. She had a deadline coming up, but she’d still answer her phone.
Right?
Hell, he didn’t know.
Dalton kept hitting her number, praying it would finally ring, but all he got was her voicemail.
“Hey, you’ve reached me, but I’m unavailable at the moment. Leave me a message, and I’ll hit you back when I get a chance.” Her voice washed over him.
He needed to feel her in his arms. He needed to see her, kiss her, just know that she was okay.
She should have known she could always trust him. Hell, even his brother.
When she was a kid and being bullied, it was him and his brother kicking the neighborhood kids’ asses who messed with her.
He gripped the steering wheel tight in anticipation.
“Lieutenant, come in. Over,” Nancy, the dispatcher’s voice, came over the department radio.
“Hell, no! Not now.” He blew out a deep breath and reached for the handheld radio. He held it in his hand and pushed the communication button. “McNeil here. What’s going on, Nancy? Over.”
“We have a report of an apartment fire. The guys are on their way there now. They’re requesting you to join them. Over.”
“Fuck!” Dalton pulled to a stop at a red light. He wanted to punch something. He took a few deep breaths, hitting the comm button again. “What’s the address? Over.”
Nancy came back on and read off the location.
Dalton’s breath was ripped from his lungs.
That was Anya’s apartment building.
“I’ll send you the coordinates. Over,” Nancy offered.
“No need. I know where this is. On my way. Over.” Dalton slammed the radio back in its holder and flicked his lights and siren on. He looked both ways, then pushed forward to bust a U-turn in the middle of the intersection and headed in the direction of Anya’s place.
Unfortunately, now he had a reason to use his lights.
He grabbed his phone and dialed Dallas.
“You there already?” his brother asked in greeting.
“Change of plans,” Dalton announced grimly. He shifted in his seat and had to stay focused on driving now. He was going at high speed. “I just got a call. An apartment building fire. It’s Anya’s.”
“Give me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”
