Page 121 of Dock

“Her phone says she’s at home,” Dive announces prior to taking the offering from Lady. “You sure she’s not just ignoring you?”

“Yeah,” I loom over the device, “can you turn the camera on? See if she’s actually there?”

“Alright,” he confesses, joint resting on his lips, “but if I end up seein’ a tit or something nobody gets to be pissed at me.”

Lady rolls her eyes while I struggle not to glare.

I’ll happily take him accidentally seeing a nipple over her in unthinkable danger.

Few clicks later, Dive blows out smoke and hands the piece back to his woman. “All I’m seeing is black.”

“What?”

“Floor?” His head bobs from side to side. “Counter?” He strains his face closer to his computer. “Inside of a drawer maybe?”

Not good.

So. Not. Good.

“Weird but,” he bounces his bare shoulders and meets my gaze again, “not scary weird.”

“What’s got you frizzin?” Lady gingerly questions.

“There was this sketch email sent from the school account and I just…” my head slowly shakes, “I fuckin’ know it ain’t her. Can you see where it was sent from or who sent it?”

“Forward it over,” Dive instructs.

“And go double check on your Old Lady,” his woman insists, softness shifting into her expression. “With all the Berkley shit going on, it’s better to find her safe rather than dead.”

Chapter 21

Hogan

“Dock”

I climb off my bike in front of Emmerz yellow painted home, Bluetooth helmet still on. “What do you mean the email came from the school, Dive?”

“What the fuck do you mean, what do I mean?” His grunt of annoyance builds more irritation in me. “What the hell else could I possibly fucking mean?” A glare is given in spite of the fact he can’t actually see it. “The email you got came from the college’s network. IP address from one in their library.”

“Can you access that footage?”

“I can.”

“Did you?”

“Not…” he drags out the answer. “Yet.”

“Why not?!”

“You didn’t ask.”

“You knew I would ask.”

“Yes, but I like it when you ask,” Dive playfully pokes. “I like to feel needed.”

“Not the time for that shit,” I grumble and visually assess the scene for shit that doesn’t fit. “So. Not. The. Fucking. Time.”

“Oh, I see how it is. I’m not allowed to have any fun today,” complains my best friend.