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I call Zara again.
Again, it goes to voicemail.
I leave another message, hoping like fuck she’ll check her phone soon.
Where the fuck are you, Zara?
I decide to check out the cinema even though Holly’s already been there. I’ll check the surrounding streets and widen the search more than I suspect she probably did.
I’m halfway there when Axe calls.
“Tell me you have something for me,” I answer the call.
“I do. I’ve just texted you through the address.”
The text arrives and I check it out. “I’m about five minutes from there. Thanks, man.”
“I hope she’s okay.”
Me too.
Me fucking too.
Christ, I’m wound tight over this. And it has nothing to do with the fact my president’s daughter is missing, and everything to do with the fact I care about my president’s daughter enough to fear bad shit happening to her.
My level of care for most people sits low, so I’m unsure how the fuck Zara has crept up that scale. But she has. Once I’ve found her, I need to figure out how to move her back the fuck down that scale. I have better things to worry about than King making my life a living hell because I have a hard-on for his daughter.
When I arrive at the address Axe sent me, I realise it’s the same damn place I found her the night I met Devil here to take care of Ricardo. It’s like déjà vu with the loud music and wasted teenagers everywhere. The fact Zara’s got everyone fucking worried while she’s out getting drunk at a party angers me. That anger floods my veins more with each fucking teen I have to push my way past in order to find her.
God fucking help her when I get to her.
“Dude!” a teen says to me as I force him aside. “Why you in such a damn hurry? Careful where you’re putting those hands.”
I turn back and grip his shirt. Pulling him to me, I growl, “Have you seen Zara or Marissa?”
His eyes widen at my demand. “Yeah. They’re out the back with Tommy and the boys.”
Tommy.
Fucking hell.
Hearing that name torpedoes my anger to a whole new level.
What the fuck is she doing back with that little asshole?
I will wring her fucking neck myself when I find her.
Shoving my way through a mass of bodies, I finally lay eyes on Zara.
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
Zara is sitting on Tommy’s lap. His hands and mouth are all over her. The fact half her body is on display, tells me she’s so out of it she isn’t even aware of what’s happening. Zara always does a good job of covering her body; I can’t see her allowing this shit to happen in public.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” I yell as I char
ge towards them.
