Page 3 of Baby Girl
She doesn’t have any enemies. Besides Oakley, I’m confident she doesn’t have friends. She hasn’t contacted anyone from her time in the system in weeks. There is no one in her life but us and her roommate.
There’s a possibility that this isn’t about her.
None of the others have anyone in their past that would do something like this. I know, I looked. Which only leaves me. Have I been outed? I owe no debts that I’m aware of.
The quiet thud of car doors slamming has my attention turning to the parking lot, where Derek, Hudson, and Darcy all appear. They must have started driving in this direction before I sent the message. Good for them. Shows that they aren’t as idiotic as that stupid fucking plan they came up with.
They come to a stop in front of me as the door opens behind me and Oakley steps out in her sleep clothes.
All three of them turn their focus on her, so I turn to face her and try to offer a smile, but it must not have worked right, because she shuffles to the side of the landing, putting distance between us and her.
“This is Oakley, Emery’s roommate. She knows about us. Oakley, this is Derek, Hudson, and Darcy.” I gesture at each of them as I say their names.
Oakley blinks as she takes them in, all still wearing a little of their club gear, then turns her focus on me, eyes dipping downto my hand where the fluffy pom-pom of Emery’s phone hangs from my grasp.
“Where’s Emery?” she demands, her fiery gaze flicking up to mine.
The scared catch at the end snaps the tunneled focus of the other three, and then I have four sets of eyes staring at me like I have all the answers. Conveniently, I do, this time. I’m going to remind them of this moment the next time they try to tell me I need to give her space.
Giving her all the fucking space is what landed us in this damn position.
I unlock my phone and go into the other tracking app, the one that monitors the GPS marker in her bracelet. It’s not continuous, like her phone—it needs an open Bluetooth connection to transmit its location. So, hopefully, whoever took her is an idiot who doesn’t understand device cybersecurity.
It only takes a few minutes, and then I smile, a real one this time.
Fuck, I love idiots. They make my job so easy.
Chapter 2
Derek
The leather of the steering wheel creaks under my palms as I battle with my mind to stay calm and clear. Rage and disappointment clash in my chest like a war between two titans as I struggle to concentrate on the highway in front of me.
I’d had her. We’d had her. Everything had fallen into place. She wasn’t in danger of losing her scholarships, and we were all keeping our jobs. It was perfect. For a solid five minutes.
Every single thought is like someone plunging a knife into the same wound in my chest, over and over. Raw agony burns up my spine and through my arms as I stare out the windshield, trying to figure out what the hell went wrong.
It’s been less than an hour since she left us in the foyer of Obsession. How the hell did we get here? The four of us packed into my SUV, speeding down the highway, tracking something on Xavier’s phone that is apparently attached to Emery as he messages with someone on a second phone I have never seen before, because someone took her.
Took her. Like we are in some sort of action thriller movie. Who the hell kidnaps a college student with barely a penny to her name?
Why the fuck did she come to the club?
Why didn’t she just stay at the goddamn apartment?
We only needed one more night.
And why the hell didn’t she give us five minutes to explain?
But then I remember the look on her face as she yelled at me from inside the elevator, anger and betrayal carving deep grooves around her eyes, which snapped with a fire I’ve never seen from her before.
You didn’t trust me to be able to manage my own emotions and actions. You took my choices away.
That image is superimposed by a slightly older memory—her, standing with her back against a brick wall, grass beneath her sneakers, eyes filled with tears as I don’t give her five minutes to explain before we all turn and walk away from her.
My eyes close for just a second, a tremendous ache forming behind my eyes as the disappointment in myself starts to get the upper hand. Emery is ours. She’s been ours from the firstmoment we started messaging on the SugarLife app. And I fucked it up, for all of us.
Wanting to protect everyone had backfired with the dramatic flare of a rom-com turned action that only a poorly written D-grade movie can manage.
