Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(57)

Could she get on a train? No way to get off in between stops. She’d be trapped. But if she wanted to follow her stepfather, she didn’t have a choice. She took a deep breath and thought of Connor. Thought of his warmth beneath her cheek in bed last night. His even breathing against her ear.

He would look for her. She knew he would. Hopefully by the time he found her, she’d be one step closer to freedom.



“You have to calm down, man.”

Connor’s hands curled into fists, but he didn’t know what their preferred target would be. Bowen’s face or his own fracturing skull. Knocking himself out would bring oblivion, but he’d only wake up more frantic to find Erin than he was right now. Which might finally push him over the edge into madness. Two days. She’d been gone two days and he hadn’t slept. Sera had practically force-fed him a piece of toast this morning, and it sat in his stomach like a lead weight.

At first, he’d eschewed anyone else’s help. He hadn’t wanted or needed anyone slowing him down. If he didn’t stop, if he went everywhere he knew she liked to go, the mall, Denny’s…he would find her, right? Once she saw him and realized he wouldn’t stop looking, she would come home. She’d told him she had money. Lots of it. Did she have access to it? How? Would she use it to leave Chicago? Once these questions had begun to penetrate the intense panic, he’d enlisted Polly’s help. She was currently holed up in her apartment using information provided by Derek to locate Erin’s stepfather. Now that he’d made a slight attempt to think clearly, he realized two possible outcomes were in play. Either Erin had taken off for parts unknown, hoping to get clear of her stepfather, or she’d gone after him. He didn’t want either to be true. One took her away from him and the other put her in danger. All he could do was wait for a lead and follow it.

Waiting wasn’t easy, especially in the apartment they shared. Bowen had attempted to pour himself some orange juice from the refrigerator and he’d nearly taken the guy’s arm off, ordering him not to touch it. Erin’s smell lingered in the air, everywhere he went. Every room he walked through. If he lay down in bed, he knew it would be more discernable, so he refused to go in there or it would wreck him. Goddammit, they’d made so much progress and in one split second, it had all been snatched away. Stolen. He missed her touch, the way her mouth parted simply from running her hands up his chest. He f*cking needed her, and her abusive, * stepfather had taken her away.

Whenever he needed a fresh dose of anger, which was never really necessary, he thought back to the smile on that f*cker’s face. He thought of Erin’s nightmarish expression. The need to destroy something ate at him constantly, sitting on his shoulder and whispering in his ear. He couldn’t go much longer like this. Needed to see her soon. Be near her. Now.

“Calm down?” He repeated Bowen’s words back as a question. “The way you calmed down when that rival gang tried to abduct Sera with baseball bats back in Brooklyn?”

Bowen’s pupils dilated, hands clenching on the kitchen table. “Point made.”

A knock on the door. Full of restless energy, Connor stood and gave a cursory glance through the peephole before throwing the door open. Derek walked in with a stack of files. He quirked an eyebrow at Connor when all he received was a glare in place of a welcome. “Watch yourself, Bannon. It’s not my fault she ran.” He tossed the files on the table. “If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be. It’s why I hired her.”

“Really not helping,” said Bowen.

Polly caught the door before it closed, breezing in with her open laptop in hand. “Greetings, menfolk.”

They all grunted.

“Charming.” She set her laptop down on the kitchen counter and hopped up beside it. “I have some mildly disturbing news, although not sure it’ll come as a shock to all of us.”

“What is it?” Connor asked, then held his breath. Come on, give him something.

“I know why Stepdaddy Dickhead, aka Luther O’Dea, was at the courthouse yesterday.” She sent Connor an uneasy look. “He was petitioning for a conservatorship. A mental health one, specifically.”

A conservatorship. Giving him control over Erin’s money. Her decisions. Connor ground his molars together, wishing he’d given in and gone after the bastard when he had the chance, even though deep down her knew nothing could have prevented him from chasing Erin.

“As it turns out, Erin is filthy stinking rich and Stepdaddy D wants control over the cash flow.” She glanced around the room, holding up what looked like a bank statement. “Was everyone aware of this but me? I could have hit her up for some grocery money.”

“I knew,” Connor muttered. It was obvious from the captain’s expression that his squad member’s financial status had been the one thing of which he hadn’t been aware. Connor reached for the files he’d brought. “I don’t give a shit if she’s a billionaire, but no one is going to take what belongs to her.”

“Well,” Polly hedged. “That’s where it gets sticky.”

Bowen stood. “Jesus, sometimes I wish I hadn’t quit smoking.”

Connor crossed his arms. “Sticky how?”

Polly spun the laptop in their direction. “The petition Stepdaddy D turned in yesterday had Erin’s signature on it.”