Page 12 of Razor

“Point me in the right direction.”

I shift off the car, and he swallows hard as I advance, his finger pointing nervously in the distance.

“Third building, turn right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

I turn and heading off, I wonder how long it will be before the cops arrive.

The college is smaller than most, and as I round the corner, I notice the pitch in the distance; yells and movement proving the training session is underway.

As I head onto the field, a couple of the guys do a doubletake, and I call out, “Where can I find Scott Patrick?”

A man calls out.

“Who the fuck are you? Get the hell out of here.”

I’ve got to admire his courage and guess this must be the coach.

I turn and head toward him, my fists clenched, and where there were jeers before, silence is golden.

He stands facing me, an angry frown on his face, and I repeat my question.

“Where can I find Scott Patrick?”

“Who are you to storm into my practice and demand one of my players?”

“I’m your worst fucking nightmare if you refuse.”

My low growl is for his ears only, and he obviously prioritizes his health because he calls out, “Scott, get over here!”

There’s a movement behind me, and as I turn, I notice a jock heading my way, his expression nervous.

“You were there when Sunday was taken.”

I don’t waste words—I never do, and he nods, the worry on his expression telling me he is concerned. For her.

“It happened so fast.” He runs his fingers through his buzz cut.

“We were swapping numbers and then she had to get to class. Two cars boxed her in, and before I could raise the alarm or try to help, they tore off out of the parking lot with Sunday inside.”

Why can’t I get past the fact they swapped numbers? What the actual hell?

I narrow my eyes, the sudden need to tear this jock apart with my hands an inconvenient distraction, and I grit my teeth and snap, “Then what did you do?”

“I reported it to the principal. She called the cops, and that’s all I know.”

“Where can I find the principal?”

He points back the way I came.

“First block, main entrance. Her name is Principal Hanrahan.”

I say nothing, merely glowering at him with rage and spin on my heel, leaving him to deal with now being on my list. He wanted my girl. He had his hand on her phone, and he had better hope that’s all he had his hands on.

I’m aware I’m acting like a caveman; some things never change, but I am very protective over Sunday and I let her down. If I had been better, she wouldn’t be in danger now, and I’m angrier at myself more than anyone right now.

By the time I make it to the main entrance, the cop car is rolling through the gates.