Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(97)

And then he turns his attention to Lo. “You said you were going to get Daisy.”

Lo rubs the back of his head. “Lil fell on the ground. Everything was crazy…”

“Fuck,” Ryke curses, the word harsh on his lips. His muscles tighten.

Lo keeps rubbing his neck in anxiety.

“It’s okay,” I tell Lo before he’s assaulted by guilt. “No one is to blame.” We’ll find her. Hopefully.

He nods.

And before we can go search for Daisy, Melissa chimes in, her expression sour. “She’s probably running around here somewhere. I’m sure you and Lo can find her yourselves.”

No, we need Ryke. Lo will be worried about me falling on my ass so much that his attention will be split. I need someone who’s focused solely on finding her. And I’m too short to see much of anything in the crowd.

“Come on,” Melissa says, tugging Ryke towards the stage to dance.

He scowls darkly. “If you’re not going to help, you can go to the car.”

Melissa drops her hands. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not leaving a sixteen-year-old drunk girl in a f*cking club!” he shouts at her like she’s not listening.

“They can take care of her! She’s not your sister or your responsibility, Ryke!”

“You don’t know me,” he sneers. “You don’t f*cking get it.”

She steps into his face. “I didn’t come here to babysit!”

“Then leave!”

“Fuck you,” she snarls. Then she storms off, pushing through the mass of people with ease.

My heart is about to spring from my chest with every second we lose. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Ryke looks between Lo and me. “If I help, this is it. You two can’t be hounding me about her anymore. You can’t have it both f*cking ways. I’m either ignoring her or I’m her friend. That’s it.”

“You’re her friend!” I exclaim, practically throwing my hands up in the air. I don’t want to waste any more time. “Okay, let’s go, please!”

Ryke doesn’t move. His eyes pin to Lo, waiting for his answer. I am tossing daggers into his eyes. I don’t have time for this. Daisy may not have time for this. I picture her drunk in the bathroom being gang raped by other people high on the green (or in this case blue) fairy. I shouldn’t have lost her. I should have kept her tethered to my arm.

“Lo!” I yell.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine.”

Ryke revives like someone struck him with a hot torch. He moves faster than I could have ever imagined. He slams bodies out of his way, on a mission from hell. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I chant each time he makes a new path for us.

“Don’t let go of my hand!” Lo shouts over the music, his fingers intertwined in mine.

We wind through the people, following Ryke to the bathrooms where a long line swerves. He walks towards the men’s bathroom and ignores the angry stares as he passes the line.

“Hey!” a guy shouts. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes!”

Ryke glares. “I’m not pissing; I’m looking for someone.” He reaches the door, and the guy grabs him by the arm. Ryke literally throws his body weight at him, just to push him off. The guy topples backwards, giving Ryke enough time to open the door and disappear inside.

“I’m going to look in the girl’s bathroom,” I tell Lo, leaving him in the hallway. The girls stare with hot anger, their lips upturning snidely. My explanation blows over just about as easily as Ryke’s, but no one physically assaults me.

When I make it inside, the line extends here, the girls crammed in a row, waiting for an open stall. “Daisy!” I shout, checking each face. No, no, no. I peek beneath the stalls, searching for her gold sandals.

Red heels.

Black flats.

Sparkly platforms.

No, no, no.

I run back outside at the same time that Ryke exits the bathroom—without Daisy on his arm. He doesn’t hesitate or stop. He guides us to a long narrow hallway that appears reserved for staff.

“We should check outside,” Lo tells him. “She may have found the exit.”

“I want to be sure she’s not here,” Ryke says.

A door ends the hallway. And it’s literally marked employees only. Lo grabs Ryke’s arm before he rushes inside.

“We’re going to be thrown out of the club, and then we’re never going to find her.”

I pale.

And they both look down at me. I realize I squeaked, a petrified sound escaping.

“You two stay out here then,” Ryke says. “I’ll go in. If someone throws me out, then you run down the f*cking hallway and disappear in the crowd.”

“Fine.” But I hear Lo mutter, “I’m going to have to bail my brother out of Mexican jail.”

Ryke turns the knob, and he peeks inside a little. His chest rises in a strong inhale, and he motions for us to come inside with him.

We trust Ryke enough to listen, heading through the doorway. And then we stop.

The door clicks shut behind us.

We must be in some sort of break room. Red couches fill the large space, a television and pinball machine on one side. Graffiti—or really nauseating neon-colored artwork—is sprayed on the walls.