Mended (Connections, #3)(58)

“Yeah. I don’t know how to say this, man, but Damon showed up just before the show and they disappeared into her room. She came out, did the show, and vanished. None of us have seen her since.”

“Did you talk to Leif?” I can hear the irritation in my voice.

“Yes. He doesn’t know either.”

The blood pounds through my veins. “Why the f*ck wouldn’t you have called me the minute that * showed up?”

“Xander, you weren’t here and there was nothing you could do.”

“Just f*cking keep looking for her and call me the minute you know anything. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I tell him and hang up.

I leave all my shit and just grab my keys. I peel my Porsche onto the street. The engine roars and the tires squeal. Slamming on my brakes only when I need to, I run every red light. I circle through the airport garage but find no empty spots, so I park in a handicap space. Fuck it—let them tow it. Right now I’m pissed as hell, and the last thing I care about is my f*cking car. I hustle to get into the terminal and somehow manage to get on the red-eye to New York City.

“Sir, can I get you something to drink?” the flight attendant asks when I take my seat.

“Yeah, a Jack and Coke. No, make that two Jack and Cokes.”





CHAPTER 13


Through the Glass

Bars surround me. I’m wearing an orange jumpsuit. “I did it, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

His face fades in and out, but I can see he’s frowning. “You’ll have to pay the price for your sins, son. Your apology can’t help you.”

Fuck. I wake up in a cold sweat just as the wheels touch down at JFK. The effects of the alcohol have long since worn off; I push that dream far from my mind as I exit the plane and scramble to rent a car. It’s seven a.m. and once I’m flying down the highway, I call Garrett. The band is playing in Hartford and I’m humping ass to get there.

“Hello,” he answers groggily, obviously asleep.

“I’m just leaving New York City. I’ll be there in two hours. Did you find her yet?”

“No, man. I’m sorry. No sign at all. She didn’t come back to the bus. We waited as long as we could. Leif said she told him after the show she’d meet us in Hartford. We still waited as long as we could before pulling out of New York.”

“Did she say anything else to Leif?”

“No. He asked her what was going on, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Call me if you hear anything else.”

“You know I will.”

“Thanks.”

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck. I hit the accelerator and pound my palms against the steering wheel. What the hell is going on?

? ? ?

Just shy of two hours later, I pull into the XL Center in Hartford, Connecticut. There are two tour buses there—one of them ours. I slam the car into PARK right next to it and pound on the door. John opens it. “Hey, buddy, where you been?”

I give him a cursory nod, but say nothing and head toward her room, crossing through the front lounge first. No one is around. I quickly stride to the galley, and find that it too is empty. When I hit the back lounge, all the guys are huddled around the table. Rubbing my hand over my stubbled jaw, I assess the room before walking through the door. She’s not in here, but three mouths drop open when the guys turn to look at me. My eyes catch Garrett’s first and I stare him down. He looks nervous as he stands up and heads my way. Stopping in front of me, he places his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can we talk outside?”

I jerk away, feeling agitated and unnerved. “No, we can talk now. Where the f*ck is she?”

“She’s here,” he mumbles.

I dart to her bedroom and fling the door open, but it’s empty. I spin around toward Leif, who’s behind me. “Where the hell is she?”

“I think you should sit down and let us explain.”

“Where is she?” I ask again, getting closer, my eyes flashing with fury.

He swallows a few times. “In the other bus, but we need to explain.”

I don’t need to hear any explanation. I take off like a bat out of hell to the other bus I saw when I pulled in. My heart pounds and my stomach is in knots as I approach. Pulling the doors open, I take the two steps in one and find myself face-to-face with a burly dude at least twice my girth. He levels a serious stare at me and I return the same to him.

He comes right up to my face and grabs my shirt with his fist, almost picking me up off the floor. “Any reason you felt you couldn’t knock?” he mutters, his lips flapping over his set of double chins.

I laugh. As if anything he thinks he can do is going to intimidate me or stop me.

“It’s okay, Johnny.” A voice colder than ice comes from behind the ninja assassin.

Johnny steps aside and then directly in front of me I see the * himself—Damon Wolf. I lurch forward to drop him on the spot, but his bodyguard stops me. He’s got my arms twisted behind my back, so I use my feet and kick his shins—hard.

He doesn’t make a sound or move a muscle, except to pull tighter on my arms. It feels like he might pull them out of the sockets if he pulls any harder.

Turning my head, I try to spit in his face, but he picks me up and quickly slams my head into an overhead compartment. I can feel a faint trickle of liquid oozing down my face as he sets me down.