Stay With Me(4)

He punched in the number to the apartment with shaky fingers. He waited as it rang. After the fourth time, the answering machine picked up, and he cursed.

“Catherine, baby, it’s me, Logan. Pick up, baby. I know you’re angry, but please, pick up the phone.”

He hung up and called right back, frustrated when he got the same result. He was redialing again when the plane pulled away from the terminal to begin its taxi.

Frustrated, he slapped the phone shut and flung it across the seat.

Where was she? Had something happened to her? Had she left the apartment upset and been in an accident? Fear gripped him. Or had she simply walked out?

No, Paige was wrong. Catherine understood. She always understood.

Understood what? That her husband is an ass**le who can’t even remember their anniversary? He’d cancelled a trip he promised to take her on, hadn’t been around in more months than he could count, and he hadn’t made love to her in so long he ached.

He closed his eyes and banged his head against the back of the seat. Had she given up on him?

***

Rhys stepped off the plane and made his way up the exit corridor to the gate. He was tired as hell, but anticipation lightened his step as he imagined crawling into bed with Cat. God, he’d missed her. Right now a Jamaican beach and her in a thong sounded next to heaven.

A frown strained his lips as he tried to remember the last time he’d made love to Cat. The last months were all a blur of phone calls, business trips, endless meetings and negotiations. Uncertainty wedged its way into his chest. She had sounded so disappointed the night he and Logan had left. And now that he had a moment to breathe, he realized just how often he and Logan had been making excuses and apologies.

Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get home. He was going to talk to Logan about rescheduling that vacation they’d promised Cat. Soon.

He checked his watch then fished for his cell phone to turn it back on. Logan landed a half hour before him, and they were supposed to hook up and ride together back to the apartment.

As soon as the phone powered up, it beeped to tell him he had a voicemail. Or ten. Damn, that was a lot of missed calls. He frowned as he scrolled through and saw they were all from Logan.

He put the phone to his ear and picked up his pace to baggage claim.

“Rhys, meet me at the apartment. We’ve got a problem.”

He pulled the phone away with a frown. That was it? Goddamn Logan and his penchant for being short and providing no details. He punched in Logan’s cell number and waited impatiently for him to answer. When it went straight to voicemail, Rhys swore and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Adrenaline pounded through his veins. Shit, had something happened to Cat? Fuck the baggage. He broke into a run toward passenger pick-up and cut in front of at least three people waiting for a taxi. He thrust a wad of bills at the driver.

“I’m in a hurry.”

The cabbie palmed the cash. “Yes sir.”

An eternity later, he jumped out of the cab and bolted into the building. He cursed the elevator’s slowness as he rode it to the top floor. When it opened, he stepped into the apartment and came up short when he saw Logan pacing the floor of the living room, phone to his ear.

“What do you mean you don’t have a record of Catherine Wellesley at your hotel? She has to be there. I’ve called every goddamn hotel in Jamaica.”

“What the f**k is going on?” Rhys demanded.

Logan swiveled around, hurled an expletive to whoever he was talking to on the phone then slapped it shut.

“Catherine is gone,” he said hoarsely.

Rhys blinked as fear crawled up his spine. “Gone. What do you mean gone?”

“Haven’t you tried to call her in the last two days?” Logan asked, his voice angry.

“Yes, I have. I assumed she’d let her cell phone go down again, and you know as well as I do she rarely answers the apartment phone.”

“She’s gone,” Logan said again, and Rhys had to fight the urge to knock the hell out of him and demand that he get to the point.

“Where is she?” Rhys demanded.

“Hell if I know.” Logan ran a hand through his hair then closed his eyes. “We forgot our anniversary,” he said in a quieter voice. “Catherine made plans. Reservations. We were supposed to eat out, come home and spend the evening together then fly out to Jamaica the next morning. Only she ended up spending the night alone, and we cancelled the trip.”

“Where. Is. She. Now,” Rhys gritted out, afraid of what Logan would say next.

Logan rounded him, his eyes furious. “I don’t know! I wish to hell I did. Paige informed me that Catherine left the same night we did and hasn’t been home since. And then Paige told me what ass**les we are.”

Rhys shook his head. He didn’t give a shit about Paige right now. He wanted to know where his wife was.

“The only thing missing is her luggage,” Logan said.

Relief settled over Rhys. Maybe she hadn’t left. As in walked out. Maybe she’d just gone on the trip. He couldn’t blame her if she had. He and Logan had treated her like shit.

“I’m going to call the damn pilot,” Logan muttered. “Have him fly us to Jamaica. If I have to personally go into every hotel on the island to find her, I will.”

It was a sad testament that neither of them even had a clue what hotel she’d booked for them. They’d left all the details to her and never expressed any interest in the plans. They were both bastards of the first order.