by Gwyn McNamee
My skin prickles. Gabe was in that bed. It probably still smells like him…it sure did Sunday when I came home from his place utterly devastated. Sleeping in the on-call room at the hospital last night was a respite from being immersed in Gabe’s scent. I don’t know if I could have made it through another night alone in that bed with the smell of him, of us, lingering there.
Shit. Did I ever pick up the condom wrappers from the floor?
What a crappy time to remember I’m a terrible housekeeper. If I ever move into a real house, I’ll have to spend twenty-five percent of my income on a maid just to not end up on an episode of Hoarders.
I better wrap this up quickly and get him, and me, the fuck out of here.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he grins at me. That mouth used to give me orgasms. Now, it makes me cringe. Not because he wasn’t amazing in bed and to me, but because there’s only one mouth I want on me and the thought of any other is appalling at this point.
It probably isn’t fair of me to have him in here. I should have rejected his offer. I know he’s in love with me. This is basically abuse, but I can’t turn him down now.
“I’m all set.” I drop my toiletries in my duffel bag on the floor and hike it up over my shoulder.
Lucas jumps off the bed and invades my personal space.
Shit, is he going to kiss me?
I step back, but he just moves in closer and pulls the bag from me with a smile. “I got it.”
Whew.
He follows me to the door. I can actually feel his eyes on me the whole time. I shudder. I’ve never felt this uncomfortable with Lucas before. I never realized my feelings for Gabe would make me react so differently to someone I spent so much intimate time with. It feels like being with a stranger now.
We pause just inside the door to the complex. The wind whips the driving rain practically sideways. I’m surprised the trees in front of my building haven’t snapped in half yet.
There’s no way we’ll make it to his Jeep without getting drenched.
When we step outside, I can see why Lucas suggested he drive me. The road in front of my apartment building already has several inches of standing water, and there’s a car stuck in even deeper water where the road passes under the railroad tracks further down.
“Damn, I didn’t realize it was this bad already.” Things are even worse than when I came home from the hospital only a couple hours ago.
Lucas places his hand on my lower back and ushers me toward his Jeep parked several spots down from my building. “I know, and it’s only going to get worse.”
Where the hell is she?
Skye hasn’t answered any of my five calls today. I got a short text from her around noon telling me she was leaving the hospital. But since then, nothing.
The weather’s getting worse and phone reception has been spotty, at best. That’s just what I fucking need—to be completely cut off from Skye and everyone else during a fucking hurricane.
I know she’s not at her mom’s. Neither her mom, Storm, nor Savage had heard from her when I was able to get through to them earlier. Maybe she hasn’t left for her mother’s yet, but if she thinks she’s driving there herself, she’s insane. The roads are atrocious, and her car will sink in the first big puddle she hits.
We’ll just have to hang tight at my place and pray to God Savage doesn’t notice the sexual tension between us and the animosity she’s sure to be throwing my way.
I try calling her one more time as I turn down the already-flooded road to her apartment. The same error message telling me to try my call again later rings in my ears. Her car is still parked out front. At least she wasn’t dumb enough to try to drive herself.
She better be ready to go, if we wait any longer, we may get stuck here, and she doesn’t have a generator like Savage and I do. I park in front of her building and race through the rain to the front door, which is thankfully unlocked.
I climb the stairs to the second floor two at a time and make my way down the hallway to her apartment.
My pounding on her door garners no response so I try to call her again.
Nothing.
Something is not right.
Skye doesn’t go dark. Even after Star died. Even when she’s at her worst, she’s always in contact with someone.
She’s pissed at me, and she has every right to be, but with the hurricane bearing down on us, I doubt she would willfully ignore my calls and text messages. One thing Skye is not is stupid.
So, where the fuck is she?
Is she with that guy?
No, Skye wouldn’t go to him. Not after what she said about him at my place. She called him “obsessed,” and remembering that word coming from her lips sends a shiver down my spine.
Obsession can make people do really fucked up things.
Like sleep with your best friend’s little sister.
Fuck.
I don’t care, her landlord will just have to bill me.
With one swift front kick, her door breaks away from the frame, and I push my way in. I make a mental note to talk to her landlord about installing stronger door frames and better locks. That was way too easy.
Everything seems normal but it’s eerily quiet except for the sound of the storm raging outside. She’s not here. One glance in her bedroom and bathroom tells me she already packed up too.
So where did she go, and how the fuck did she get there?
“Fuck!” My bellow echoes in her apartment, and there’s a yelp from the hallway.
An elderly woman with wide eyes sticks her head around the doorjamb. When she sees me, she yelps again and disappears.
“Wait!” I run to the door and find her shuffling down the hallway away from me as fast as her short legs and walker can take her. “Ma’am, please stop.”
I get a quick, frightened look from over her shoulder.
“Ma’am, I just need a minute.” I catch up with her and move to block her path. The poor woman is probably scared shitless. A broken door and a big, unknown man screaming profanities in the middle of the apartment. “Do you know Skye Hawke, the woman who lives in that apartment?”
The old lady examines me slowly and nods.
“Okay, great. Look, I’m a friend of hers, and I can’t find or reach her. Do you know where she went? She’s not home, and her car’s still here. I’m worried about her.”
She considers me for a moment and reaches a hand into a bag attached to the side of the walker. “You broke into her apartment.” I see her small hand close around something in an aerosol container.
Mace.
Can’t say I blame her for being leery.
I step back and hold my hands up in a non-threatening manner.
“I told you, I’ve been trying to get in touch with her all day, and no one in her family has heard from her. She’s not where she’s supposed to be riding the storm out, so I came looking.” I glance back at the busted door and then return my attention to the old lady. “I’m going to pay to have that repaired. Please, just tell me if you know where she is.”
Her narrowed eyes open slightly, and she pinches her lips together before she gives me a sad smile. “She left about half an hour ago with her boyfriend.”
Her boyfriend?
My blood runs cold, and I clench my fists together to keep from punching the wall and further terrifying the poor creature.
“If he’s her boyfriend, who are you?”
Fair question.
“Just a friend. A friend who’s worried.” I try my best to appear completely sincere and not show her the rage simmering just below the surface.
With a knowing look, she gives me a half smile. “Good luck.”
I step to the side to permit her to pass, and she shuffles around me toward the apartment at the end of the hallway.
If Skye left with Lucas, it couldn’t have been unwillingly.
Neighborhood watch lady seems the type to have called the cops or at least told me if she thought Skye were in any
danger. But why the fuck would she be with Lucas? And where the hell did they go?
Maybe Savage has heard from her by now. I call him as I try to put her apartment door back in place. I manage to get it back in the frame but if anyone bothers to try pushing it, gaining entry would be simple.
Shit.
I hope no one steals anything, but I don’t have the time to locate the super and, with the storm, I doubt he would fix it immediately anyway. My call to Savage fails.
Fuck.
The drive to my building takes twice as long as normal with the awful roads. My stomach twists with each passing block. By the time I push open the door to Savage and Dani’s, I’m almost doubled-over with the pain. Princess charges me, yapping and jumping against my leg to get me to pick her up.
“Down, girl.”
Dani emerges from the hallway, her hand placed protectively on her protruding belly. “Gabe? What’s wrong?”
“Have you or Savage heard from Skye recently?”
Savage appears next to her. “No, I haven’t spoken with her since the last time you called to ask.”
“Fucking shit!” I kick the end table next to the couch and the metal reverberates. Dani flinches and moves closer to Savage. He turns his head and kisses her belly, and then moves toward me, concern etched in his features.
“Gabe, what the hell is going on?”
This isn’t going to end well.
“Skye is missing. I haven’t heard from her since noon when she said she was leaving the hospital. She was supposed to go home and grab her bag then head to your mom’s. Since then, she hasn’t answered my calls or texts. She’s not at your mom’s, and she wasn’t at her apartment. Apparently, according to one of her neighbors, she left with that douchebag, Lucas.”
Dani comes over to us and rests her hand on Savage’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re not overreacting? So what if she left with Lucas. Isn’t she dating the guy? Maybe he decided to go to Mom’s with her.”
I growl and stomp my foot. “You aren’t listening to me. Something is wrong. She would have responded to my texts or answered my calls if she could have.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Why are you so worried about where Skye is, or who she’s with?”
Savage is never going to believe she’s in trouble unless I tell him the truth.
Christ, here it goes.
“Because we’ve been sleeping together.”
I barely escaped alive.
If Savage could have gotten his hands on me, I’m pretty sure he would have strangled me. He damn near tried. Only Dani stepping between us finally stopped his tirade. That might be as close to death as I’ve ever been, and I spent eight years in and out of war zones.
Dani convinced Savage to table the much-needed conversation until after we locate Skye. If the look in his eyes is any indication, the “conversation” will not be going well.
But I won’t, can’t, worry about that now. The only thing that matters is finding Skye.
Thank fuck for Dani.
Not only did she wrangle Savage, she also told me I should check the hospital. Even if Skye didn’t go back there, she knew Lucas worked there based on something Skye mentioned at a family dinner a couple weeks ago. Maybe someone there knows how I can find him.
The city is already in chaos. Even though Hera is only expected to make landfall as a category one hurricane, she’s already causing massive flooding and other problems throughout the area.
I’ve never been more thankful that I wasted money on my Hummer. I know people see them and assume the person driving it is overcompensating for something and a total douchebag, but mine is a legitimate off-road vehicle, complete with snorkel, so any flooding doesn’t stop my progress.
By the time I arrive at the hospital, it’s been over five hours since anyone has heard from Skye. The longer I go without hearing from her, the worse the churning in my stomach and the greater the feeling of dread weighing on my shoulders.
I enter through the emergency entrance and wander the main hallway of the hospital until I find a directory for the departments. The office where Skye works is in an adjacent building; I’ll need to go up a level and across the skywalk to get there. But I’ll check there first; it’s the most logical place she would be.
Deserted. The place is completely empty, with all the lights off and the doors locked tight.
Shit.
I guess it makes sense they would be shut down during the storm. But maybe she’s helping in the ER.
The entire hospital is a clusterfuck. People on gurneys are pushed past me, heading off in all directions. The storm is already taking its toll based on what I’m seeing outside and in here.
That doesn’t make me feel any better about Skye potentially being out there. And with Lucas.
I head directly for the nurse’s station. A young red head seated at the desk with her nose in a chart flicks her eyes up to me. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for Skye Hawke.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she examines me, her dark brown eyes moving from my face down over my chest where my wet t-shirt clings to me, until the top of the desk blocks her view. The corner of her mouth quirks up. “And who are you?”
An impatient man…
“I’m her brother’s business partner, Gabe Anderson. We’ve been looking for her all afternoon. Have you seen her?”
The playful and flirtatious demeanor she had a moment ago are replaced by concern. “Oh, no, I haven’t. I know she was here helping this morning, but I think she left several hours ago. Is she okay?”
Dammit. Where the hell is she?
I slam my palms down against the top of the desk. “Fuck! I hope so. Do you know this Lucas guy she was seeing? I guess he works here?”
“Lucas Oliver? Oh, yeah, he works in HR.”
The moment the words are out of her mouth, I’m running down the hall. I remember passing the HR office on my way to the elevator earlier.
I’m relieved to find the hallway in front of the human resources department deserted.
I can see the lights are off through the frosted glass window on the door. I’m counting on everyone being too distracted by injuries from the storm to worry about me lingering suspiciously in the hall.
It’s been a while since I’ve had to pick a lock; I’m hoping it’s just like riding a bike. After a quick check to make sure I’m still inconspicuous, I grab my wallet and slide out a credit card.
Thankfully, it appears the hospital isn’t too concerned with anyone breaking into their H.R. department. They didn’t even bother to put a deadbolt on the door.
Please let this be easy.
If I can’t get it open, the only way to get in would be to kick the door down, and that’s sure to draw attention. Getting arrested isn’t on the top of my “things to do” list today, so I’d like to avoid committing another felony if at all possible.
I wedge the card in between the door frame and the handle then jimmy it up and down until I feel the lock release.
A quick glance down either side of the hall tells me I’m still in the clear, and I duck inside and shut the door behind me.
Thank fuck for lax security.
The flashlight function on my cell is going to have to do. I can’t risk turning on any lights.
I survey the office, making my way past the receptionist’s desk and toward the back, down a main hallway with offices branching off either side. Lucas Oliver appears on a door to my left, but I move past it toward my target.
The file room is exactly where I thought it would be, all the way in the back corner.
Get what you need. Get out. Get Skye.
Metallic file cabinets line the walls all the way around the room and two rows of them run up the middle. It only takes a moment to find the “O” cabinets.
Why the fuck are there so many O names?
I flip through them, listening carefully for anyone entering the office behind me. Oakton. Oats. Obermeyer. Odell.
Ogden. Olan. Oldham. When “Oliver, Lucas” touches my hand, my heart actually stops for a moment.
His address is printed right on the first page below his name and date of birth.
I’m coming for you, Skye.
The storm rages as we inch our way through the flooded streets and around downed trees.
We haven’t been hit like this since Hurricane Isaac back in 2012. It was the summer before the accident, and the last time Star and I rode a storm out together. We were at the house with Mom, Gabe, and Savage. Stone was away at school, and Storm was at her house with Ben and Angelina, who was a newborn at the time.
Star always loved storms. The energy and power of them fascinated her. I always thought she should have gone into meteorology instead of nursing, but she shared my love of helping people and didn’t think predicting the weather would fill that need in her.
I remember her sitting at the back window, peering out of the small crack left between the boards Savage and Gabe had used to reinforce the window. Her eyes lit up every time the sky did. “God’s fireworks” is what she always called it. I thought her love for storms was a bit odd, but I never told her that. I didn’t need to, because she knew and she didn’t care at all.
Thinking back, Gabe’s behavior should have been a clue something was wrong even back then. Each crack of thunder made him flinch slightly, and he avoided going anywhere near the windows.
He had just been discharged a few months earlier and had returned to New Orleans to work with Savage. Their dream was always to run the Hawkeye businesses together, and Savage was thrilled to have him back, assisting him.
Growing up, we would always play board games and listen to the radio during storms, a tradition we continued into adulthood. But that night, Gabe disappeared into one of the back bedrooms and shut the door instead of joining us.
I didn’t think it strange at the time. I was too busy being pissed at him for continuing to treat me like a sister and sleeping with a never-ending string of girls to recognize he was struggling. Maybe things would have been different if I hadn’t been so blind to what was happening with him then.