Because there was only a short turnaround between races, the few staff who had returned leapt straight into preparation for the next event. With no need to return to the office, Dale, Jackson, and Cash had all remained in Florida. It left the area near my office feelin’ deserted and bare.
It was my first time back in the office in a li’l over a month. In that time, Abby had passed, Cass and I had broken off our engagement, and Phoebe had come to me for our one night together. As such, my office was filled with all the small reminders of my life before those changes. Photos and memories of Cass and me, and nothin’ of Phoebe.
There were only a few people in the garage, mostly trainees and a handful of other people to stock up on the things we needed for the second round of racing in Daytona, so there was no one watching over me. I used the peace to creep down to Phoebe’s desk in order to search through her paperwork. As I’d expected, it was all track notes and car information for the first three races. It cemented the doubt in my mind: she’d been plannin’ on bein’ in Florida. There was no way she’d willin’ly miss the first race.
A door slammed near the lunchroom and I jolted upright to see what the commotion was about.
“Where the fuck is my daughter?”
The sound of the shout drew my attention—and my concern. The voice was male, but the accent familiar. I raced from Phoebe’s workstation into the corridor. My gaze shot to the new arrival, who was stalkin’ toward me with a harassed-lookin’ Mary-Lou hot on his heels. As Dale Richards’s personal assistant, she didn’t come down to the workshop often, so this visitor was clearly important. Not only that, he was hootin’ and hollerin’ so loud it was impossible to miss, and I felt I needed to intervene to stop his rampage. Between his accent and his appearance, I understood precisely who he was.
Phoebe’s daddy.
The logo on his shirt, a rearing horse, and the team name, Emmanuel Racing, would have tipped me off, but not nearly as much as his features. He had her seafoam eyes, and they were blazin’ with a heat and hatred so intense it forced my throat to close up. A golf-ball-sized lump took up residence in the back of my mouth, bloomin’ instantly and refusin’ to dislodge no matter how much I swallowed. My tongue refused to move.
“Mr. Reede, if you’ll please,” Mary-Lou called as she chased after him.
Despite the fact his rage was palpable and echoed from his every pore, the sight of it didn’t scare me nearly as much as the possible reason behind it.
“Where is she?” His shouts continued as he charged straight for me.
My heart sank deep into the abyss that yawned open inside me at the sound. I’d been right. Somethin’ was very wrong. If he didn’t know where she was either . . .
My heart pounded and bile rose in my chest before collidin’ with the emotions blockin’ my throat. This can’t be happenin’.
His presence confirmed the strongest of my instincts down at Daytona. It confirmed every inklin’ and doubt I’d had since.
Somethin’ was wrong.
Indescribably wrong.
Even if I’d been mistaken about Phoebe’s work ethic, which I doubted, I wasn’t wrong about her attachment to her family. And if I knew anythin’ about Phoebe at all, it was that they mattered too much to her for her to disappear without lettin’ them know where she was goin’.
Even if it’d all been games to her, or if I’d done somethin’ to push her over the limit. If I’d pushed too fast like I worried I mighta, or if she still wanted Xavier and didn’t know how to tell me, she woulda kept her family in the loop. Her daddy would know where she was and wouldn’t be in front of me with murder in his eyes. He wouldn’t be screamin’ for information.
“Mr. Reede,” I said, readying to usher him into my office so we could have the discussion in private. If Phoebe was hurt or injured—missin’—it wouldn’t help havin’ the word get out in such a fashion.
Instead of following my lead, his hand shot out and clutched my throat. The move took me by surprise, giving him the upper hand as he shoved me against the wall. He was about my height, but I had a few pounds of muscle on him, and a few less years under my belt. If I’d fought back, I was certain I coulda pushed him off me, but I wanted him to back down without it comin’ to that.
“Listen to me, you lying sack of shit. If you think I’m going to do anything you want until you tell me where Phoebe is and what you did to her, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Every instinct in my body shouted to retaliate and get him off me, but I managed to resist them all. He was just a man worried about his daughter—I couldn’t argue with that. I had enough of a mind left to hold my hands up in surrender. “I can’t say where she is, sir, but I assure you, I wanna know just as badly as you do.”
His eyes narrowed as he assessed me.
“I don’t wanna see no harm come to Phoebe.”
His breath was still choppy and he didn’t let me down. “You’ve already harmed her.”
He pulled me away from the wall just to shove me back against it harder than before. As much as I wanted to fight him, I kinda felt like I deserved it after hearin’ his words. If she’d told them about the last few months, she musta been hurtin’ more than I coulda imagined. She’d said as much when she refused to be with me at first, but I’d assumed her words were exaggerated, designed to force me to see what a jackass I’d been.
“You hurt my baby girl and now she’s missing. Tell me where she is, or so help me God . . .”
I glanced around at the crowd gatherin’ by the doorways and down the corridor. They all watched our interaction with wide eyes and curious stares. “Can we please take this in private, sir?”
His gaze followed mine. and he no doubt spotted the gatherin’ crowd. As if he’d just realized what he was doin’, he leapt away from me and traced a hand through his silver-streaked auburn hair. When he turned back to me, he nodded. The set of his jaw told me he was still far from calm, like a pit bull waitin’ to attack.
“Thank you.” I straightened my shirt and shot a warning glare at the guys still watching us. “Follow me.”
I headed for my office with him hot on my heels.
“Beau,” Mary-Lou called after me. “Are you—”
Certain she was going to protest me going into a private area with a man intent on abusin’ me, I held my hand up. I had nothin’to fear from Phoebe’s daddy—nothin’ more than the concern for her safety his presence had already caused. “Just leave it with me.”
“Are you su—”
“Don’t worry about it. I got it handled.” I stalked away without givin’ her a chance to argue any further.
I held the door open and waited until he’d entered the room. After I followed in behind him, I eased the door shut to give us some privacy. My hand lingered on the handle because I didn’t want to turn around to face Phoebe’s daddy. Doin’ so would force me to face the fact that Phoebe hadn’t just needed space. That she wasn’t gonna walk back into the office with a roll of her eyes and sass on her lips.
My heart raced and my mouth went dry as I spun to face him. I couldn’t find any words to express my concern. How could I tell him that I hadn’t done anythin’ about her absence even though it’d been over a week since she’d left my bed?
I brushed my fingers through my hair as I tried to think of the best way to begin the conversation.
“I ain’t heard from Phoebe in almost nine days,” I admitted. “She spoke to me just before she disappeared.”
His eyes blazed with irritation and his jaw ticked. At his side, his fingers curled into fists and unfolded over and over. I was certain he was itchin’ to take a swing at me. “Yeah, I heard all about that. You’re a sick fuck, aren’t you? Do you enjoy playing with young girls’ hearts? Hurting them so much that they feel they’ve got no choice but to run away?”
Despite his last statement, a surge of hope raced through me. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe his presence didn’t indicate the worst. Maybe it just meant he was tryin’ to find the p
lace she’d told him she would be. I couldn’t help my small smile as I said, “So she’s spoken to ya?”
“She called home in the middle of the night nine days ago and . . .” He trailed off as he struggled to get his breathin’ under control.
My smile fell as his eyes flashed with anger again.
“Fuck!” The word burst from him as he kicked my chair, sending it wheelin’ into the wall.
Lettin’ out a low growl, he leaned against my desk, and curled his fingers around the edge. The longer I watched him, the more concerned I grew for Phoebe’s safety. She wouldn’t have put him or any of her family through this sort of grief. I was certain of that much.
“I have to find her, so I’m going to ask one more time, and one more time only.” His gaze lifted to meet mine. “What the fuck did you do to my daughter?”
It was almost impossible to look into his eyes—so similar to hers—and not want to break down. “I swear to ya, I didn’t do nothin’ to hurt her. I couldn’t hurt her intentionally. I—I love her.”
It was hard to admit that to her father. It wasn’t exactly the meet-the-folks I would have liked. I’d never even spoken to either her daddy or her mama before, and now I was havin’ to convince him how I felt and that I wouldn’t a hurt her despite the impression they no doubt had of me.
“She stayed down at my retreat helpin’ . . .” I swallowed as the golf ball in my throat grew again. “Helpin’ me deal with my sister’s passin’. Then she came back here for her feature with the Racing Hub, and I ain’t seen her since. She called—” My voice cut off as my throat closed over. “She called to tell me she never loved me. That she was leavin’.”
“What sort of games are you playing with her?”
“I ain’t playin’ no games, sir. There were some crossed wires and misunderstandin’s at first, but we—” My voice faltered and then failed.
A chill started in my tongue and spread throughout my limbs, freezin’ them in place and leavin’ me unable to move or form the words I needed. Even my heart was sluggish in my chest.
“I thought we were finally happy,” I admitted, almost silently, when I could finally speak again.
He started to pace, stalkin’ back and forth across the length of my small office. My gaze tracked his every step. I felt like the schoolboy called into the principal’s office, not a twenty-five-year-old man in my own domain.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded.
I had no idea how much Phoebe had or hadn’t told her parents about me—about us—but he’d obviously seen photos of me at least because he’d made a beeline for me. Knowin’ that more information could only help, I told him a condensed version of our story, from the moment she’d turned up at Richards Racing through to the last phone call I’d received—leavin’ out certain information neither he nor I needed to discuss with each other, like the fact she’d shared my bed two nights before she disappeared.
“So what, exactly, was the last thing you said to each other?” he asked.
“When we were in Georgia, she promised she’d be comin’ back as soon as she could. Then I got a text tellin’ me she was at the shoot. The next was the phone call where she told me she was goin’ away, that she don’t love me, and that she’d been playin’ games.”
He shook his head as he paced the room. “That’s just not Phoebe. She’s not a game player—she’s never had time for that nonsense. What did the police say?”
“Police?”
He stalled midstep and stared at me. “You went to the police, didn’t you? Phoebe isn’t the sort to just disappear. Not without there being something seriously wrong.”
“Well, I—” I cut myself off and swallowed at the glare he gave me seconds before he resumed his pacin’.
“Surely if you’re as in love with her as you claim to be, you would know that much about her.” The way he stalked from wall to wall was like a wild animal caged. It was clearly killin’ him not being more active.
“When she said . . .” I trailed off as doubt filled me. Should I have gone to the police after she failed to show at the weekend? What could I have said? She’d told me she was going away. I mighta suspected somethin’ was wrong, but what proof did I have? “I haven’t spoken to the police. I didn’t think—”
“Jesus fucking Christ! Is everyone over here incompetent?” He huffed out a breath before glarin’ at me again.
“No, sir, I—”
He held up his hand to silence me. “Can you at least tell me whether she was wearing her MedicAlert?”
“MedicAlert?”
“Goddamn it!” His voice boomed around the small space. “It’s not a hard question. Was she wearing her fucking bracelet?”
“The silver one?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, that one.”
I ran the memories of that mornin’ over in my head again. “I think so. Is it important?”
“Fuck. For someone who claims to love my daughter, you really don’t know shit, do you?”
He was right. Of course he was right. Between her secrets and lies the first time she was in the States, and the miscommunications between us since she’d been back, I really knew precious little about her. Nothin’ much at all, except that I wanted to know more. I wanted to spend every day of the rest of our lives gettin’ to know her a little better. Of course, that would mean figurin’ out where she was and makin’ sure she was safe.
“She has a medical condition and it is extremely important that she has that bracelet on in case of an accident. I just hope she has her medications with her wherever she is, otherwise . . .” He sank against the edge of my desk and dropped his chin to his chest in defeat. All of the anger printed so clearly on his features moments earlier seemed to melt away in an instant.
“Otherwise?” I prompted, even though I was certain I didn’t want to know the answer.
“Otherwise she’s probably already—” He choked on the last word. He lifted his hands to his face, rubbing his fingers over his eyes before runnin’ both hands through his hair.
I squeezed my eyes closed in response to the clear concern he held for her. I didn’t even wanna guess at what his last word was gonna be. “Is that somethin’ to do with what happened when she was a baby?”
His gaze shot to mine, surprise clear in his widened eyes. “What did she tell you?”
“Everythin’, I guess. About her being sick, her brother passin’, and about her mama bein’ alone at first.”
His jaw ticked and I understood I’d stepped into a sensitive area for him. I wanted to reassure him that Phoebe loved him more than anythin’ despite what happened, but I didn’t know the best words to use.
Regrets swam in his gaze. Those, I understood. Probably better than most; I’d been livin’ with regrets since I was a teenager.
“I know a little about your history,” I said, decidin’ to follow my instinct to comfort him. “And that she loves ya more’n anythin’. That’s why I knew somethin’ was wrong soon as I saw you comin’ in the way you did. I can believe she’d walk away from me if she needed to, but I can’t believe she’d turn away from her family.”
“I can’t fucking lose her. I just can’t. I’ll search every building in this goddamn country if I need to in order to bring her home.”
“I understand, sir. I want her back too, even if she don’t want me no more. I just need to know she’s safe.”
He gave me a steely glare, no doubt tryin’ to assess how serious I was. “I’m going to go talk to the police and lodge a missing persons report.”
“Mr. Reede, there’s somethin’ else I think ya should know.”
He turned his gaze to me. His eyes were so similar to Phoebe’s it made my heart ache for her. I straightened my back, showin’ him I wasn’t intimidated by him, only by the circumstances surroundin’ Phoebe’s disappearance.
“And what’s that?”
“Xavier.” I nodded out to the area where the mechanics—including Xavier—were packing up. “He—he
. . .” I didn’t know how to find the right words without diminishin’ her shine in her father’s eyes. But I needed him to know that things were still a little up in the air when it came to me, her, and Xavier. “She started seein’ him regular when things were . . . difficult between us. He believes they’re still together.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “And what do you believe?”
“I was under the impression they weren’t.”
“Did Phoebe tell you that?”
I closed my eyes and trailed my hands through my hair. It would’ve been easy to lie to him and say yes, but I wanted to be honest from the start. “No. Not in them exact words.”
When I opened my eyes again, it was to find him glarin’ at me with a clear “please explain” printed on his face.
My mouth dried up faster than a puddle in summer as I spun away from him. The fact was, I didn’t know where things stood between him and her, or her and me for that matter. She’d never told me we were together, not in so many words at least. She hadn’t said she’d left Xavier neither. The only thing that we’d discussed was her coming back to me to spend a couple of days together before headin’ to the first race meet.
Everythin’ else was guesses and assumptions on my part. With my back to him, I stared steadfastly at the shelves that lined one wall, covered in various knickknacks and collectables I’d acquired over the years. Some of those things were worth a pretty penny, and I woulda traded every one for the knowledge that Phoebe was safe.
“What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”
I spun back, findin’ him closer than I’d expected.
“The night before her feature with the Racing Hub, she came to my house and made me believe they were finished.” It was the plainest way I could think to say it without mentionin’ things that shouldn’t be discussed with her father.
He frowned as if tryin’ to puzzle out what I was sayin’.
Beastly (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #3) Page 4