“You can’t deny you flaunted the relationship—and the baby—in front of Phoebe though?”
Angel was doin’ just as good a job makin’ me feel like a schoolboy in trouble as Phoebe’s daddy had. I stared at my hands as I wrung my fingers. There was nothin’ I could say to justify my choices, ’cause it was true. When I’d thought Phoebe was cheatin’ on me, that she was a man-eater who’d hurt me intentionally, it made me want to hurt her back. I wanted some reaction that proved she’d at least noticed me. That I wasn’t just another notch on her lipstick case.
It was pathetic, lookin’ back on it with fresher eyes and better knowledge, but at the time, it’d been logical. I’d thought she’d deserved whatever revenge I’d served up.
“I get it,” Angel said, without waitin’ for me to say anythin’ in my defense—not that I had anythin’ to say. “In fact, I’m positive Phoebe wasn’t exactly innocent in getting a few digs in too. I know what that girl is like when she gets an idea in her head.”
Still starin’ at my hands, I chuckled. I was certain she was right. I had no doubt that at least a few of the words Phoebe had said durin’ her first few months were ’specially designed to hurt me.
“So, does that mean Pheebs broke up with Xavier?”
A frown grew as I shook my head. “No, ma’am. Least, not yet. He said the last time she spoke to him, she tol’ him she was still planning on coming back to him.”
For a moment, Angel sank back against the sofa. A tic ran over her features before her full lips turned down into a frown. Somethin’ was clearly botherin’ her.
“You—” She stopped talkin’ almost straight away before givin’ a little shake of her head.
“What?”
“You don’t think Xavier might—” She cut off again.
Whatever she was tryin’ to say was somethin’ she didn’t wanna say aloud. There was only one thing I could think of that could cause that level of discomfort . . . the same thing that had stopped me from telling Cass that Cash mighta been involved in the situation.
“D’ya think Xavier’s involved somehow?” I asked, puttin’ words in her mouth, but guessin’ at what she couldn’t say.
She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Do you?”
Did I? What reason could he have for takin’ her? And how could he have gone to Florida if he had? I shook my head. “I can’t see it. But obviously somethin’ made ya think it.”
“It’s nothing. Not really. Maybe I’m just being overprotective of her. That’s my job as the meddling best friend after all. It’s just that he seemed a little . . . possessive of Phoebe when I saw them together.”
I thought of the way he’d broken down when he was alone with Phoebe’s daddy. “I don’t think he would hurt her. He was tryin’ ta protect her. From me.”
The last two words were whispered, and directed at my hands. It felt wrong to defend him, but I could also understand. If Phoebe had led him to think I was hurtin’ her deliberately—and I could understand how she’d think that, with everythin’ that’d happened—then it made sense for him to want to hold her close and guard her from the worst of it.
Angel’s hand came into my lap to clasp mine. “Whatever was happening between you two, I’m sure she understands.”
“Maybe.” I cleared my throat as my need for Phoebe grew more intense. “I’ll keep what ya said in mind.”
Angel shifted closer to lean her head on my shoulder.
“Tell me the burn is still worth it when it hurts so much,” she murmured.
I had no doubt she was referring to the comment she’d made at the bonfire the night Phoebe and I had finally had our breakthrough. That being near Phoebe, lovin’ her even from a distance, was like standing near the sun. Like being burned. But it was the best possible burn I could imagine.
“It’s worth it,” I said. There wasn’t a hint of doubt or deception in my words. Phoebe was worth it. She was worth it all.
If only we could get her back from wherever the heck she was.
FOR MOST OF the afternoon, I sat with Angel on the couch. We alternated between talkin’ about Phoebe, each recountin’ stories, and tryin’ to figure out where she mighta gone—who mighta wanted to keep her from us.
By the time Mr. Reede returned with a bag of Chinese takeout for us all to share, it was dark out and I was exhausted. Desperate to know how things went with the police, I decided to wait ’round till he kicked me out.
When he dropped the bags of food on the table, he looked defeated. Beaten and worn. Angel leapt to her feet and grabbed plates from the kitchen. It felt odd usin’ Phoebe’s space in her absence. Part of me wanted to shove everyone out, close the door, and keep it as a shrine until she came back to us safe and sound. The concern over contaminatin’ what mighta been a crime scene also crossed through me, but we didn’t even know whether she’d touched anythin’ when she returned home to collect her medication.
“The police still aren’t going to investigate,” Mr. Reede said as he plucked the containers out of the bag and laid them on the table near the plates. “They said the tape was made before the phone calls and because she told us both she needed time away, she’s not technically a missing person.”
“The fuckers!” Angel exclaimed as she sat at the table.
“They can’t investigate every time someone takes off,” I said, tryin’ to see it from the side of the law. Ultimately, Phoebe had told us she was goin’ away. She’d obviously collected her medication and had her bags with her. We mightn’ta liked it, but I could almost understand the reluctance to follow it up. If they followed up on every adult who ran away, they’d never have time for the real crimes.
“Do you want her to be gone forever?” Angel screeched, her gaze shifting between Phoebe’s daddy and me. “Don’t you know the longer they take to look into it, the more likely it is that she’ll . . . That she’ll . .” Her breath grew short, and she started to hyperventilate.
“Angel, you need to breathe. Calm down and breathe.” Mr. Reede moved beside her and rested his hand over hers before curlin’ his fingers around her palm.
She tugged her hand from his hold. “I can’t do this. I can’t sit around here and eat and fucking talk and pretend like there isn’t a huge fucking hole in the room.” She stood and shoved her chair away from the table. Before I could say a word, she was across the room and slamming Phoebe’s bedroom door.
Mr. Reede sighed and leaned against the table. He slumped down, dropping his head between his outstretched arms. A few breaths left him, shaky and erratic. I’d seen similar looks before, and I figured he was about two seconds from flippin’ the table or somethin’ equally as destructive.
“Did the police say anythin’ else?”
For a moment, I thought he wasn’t gonna respond, but then he said, “The detective suggested hiring a PI to look into it and that they’d issue a BOLO.”
“Did they give ya any names?”
“Yeah. I’ve already called their recommended one and I’m meeting him tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Are ya gonna have somethin’ to eat?”
He shook his head and sighed. “I’m not hungry. I just brought it back for Angel. I feel responsible for her. God, I wish she wasn’t here. It’s hard enough dealing with Phoebe being gone without her friend relying on me on top of it all.”
I figured he didn’t actually intend to spill the secrets to me, but he just didn’t know how to bottle them up after his loss. To make things easier by giving him one less worry, I packed up the Chinese—that hadn’t even been touched—and put it all into the refrigerator.
As I closed the door, I saw the picture of Xavier and Phoebe. In her pinched, tight smile and almost bored eyes, I saw the hints of the thing I’d suspected for a while—she didn’t love him. Not like she loved me. If I were to compare the image to the one on her nightstand, the difference would surely be clear to anyone. Maybe even to Xavier.
Was it possible Angel was right? Could Xavier have been responsible
for her disappearance? He did hurt her on New Year’s Eve. But she’d have argued that was only because she’d interrupted him tryin’ to hit me. She always argued that he was the only one who’d been uncompromisingly friendly to her.
“I think there’s someone else ya need to add to the list of possible suspects,” I said, twisting back ’round to meet his gaze.
“And who’s that?”
“Xavier. Angel mentioned earlier that she thought he mighta been a little possessive with Phoebe.”
“Angel mentioned that? But you don’t think he was?”
I lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “From where I was standin’, he kinda was within his rights to be. Phoebe and me, we—” I cut off when I remembered who I was talkin’ to.
He didn’t need to know the tinderbox that Phoebe and I had been livin’ in for the last few months. The spark between us had never died. Even when I’d thought she was with someone back home, it took everythin’ I had not to kiss her the way we’d kissed on her first visit to the States. There were so many moments when I’d been certain she felt the same way.
On Christmas Eve, when I’d found her and her nana at Richards Racing, I’d been moments from tastin’ her lips again. She’d wanted it too, I was certain. It was only at the last second I remembered she was with Xavier and I couldn’t kiss her the way I wanted to. The words I’d spat at her, thinkin’ the worst, filled my mouth like acid.
Most of our arguments came as a result of one of us tryin’ to push the other away.
“I think he saw me as a threat,” I admitted. If he had, it was perceptive, and not incorrect, ’cause I was a threat to him. I wanted Phoebe the whole time they were together, even if I’d fought it until I’d learned the truth about Max. If only I’d known that truth from the beginning. I woulda fought harder for her all the way back then. We mighta had months of happiness rather than nothin’ but fightin’. Her heart had belonged to me the whole time, but I’d been too big a fool to claim it.
“It doesn’t matter. His name’s on the list anyway.” Mr. Reede’s voice was flat. Lifeless.
It wouldn’t have surprised me if mine was on the list as well, but I doubted he’d tell me if it was.
“Are ya gonna be all right with Angel?” I couldn’t say why I cared so much, other than the fact that Angel was important to Phoebe, and that made her important to me.
“Yeah. I could use a fucking drink though.”
“Would ya like me to get ya somethin’?”
He shook his head and frowned. “No. I can’t. The way I’m feeling at the moment, I wouldn’t stop at just one drink. Angel deserves better than another person in her life getting blind rotten drunk around her.”
“D’ya wanna take the team apartment tonight? Get some sleep before ya meetin’ tomorrow. I can watch over Angel tonight, if you like?”
He shook his head and shoved away from the table. “No. I should stay. I still need to ring Lys and give her an update though. Fuck, how am I supposed to tell her I have no information?”
I had no answer for him. My gaze fell to my feet while I tried to come up with one, but I came up blank. How could anyone tell a mama there weren’t no sign of her daughter?
I scrubbed the back of my neck. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t—”
He waved me off, letting me off the hook for an actual answer. I wished harder than ever that I had one.
“Look, I . . . Well, I’m in the team apartment ag’in tonight if ya need me.” I gave him the number. “It’s on the floor below this one. I’ll be goin’ back to Florida tomorrow though.”
He nodded but didn’t turn to look at me. “Ring me after Dale has told the team. I want to know everything that’s said.”
I had no idea why he was trustin’ me with impartin’ the information, but I wasn’t gonna say no. Even as I wondered about the trust he was showin’, I thought of a way I might be able to help him.
“Why don’t I take Angel down to Daytona with me?” I asked.
He bristled, confirmin’ my suspicion that I was still on the list. “It’s okay. She’ll be fine here.”
“If you’re certain, but it ain’t no bother. She can stick to the pits, and I’ll make sure Jackson keeps an eye on her.”
“And Jackson is?”
“He’s my old team manager. The one we moved to Phoebe’s car after . . .” I trailed off and left the after hangin’. Her daddy didn’t need to be reminded again of the attack on her.
“Do you trust him?”
“With my life. That’s the reason he was put onto Phoebe’s team.”
“Why don’t you ask Angel and see if she wants to go. If she does, I won’t stop her.”
“I just don’t want her to be unprotected while ya look for Phoebe, sir.”
“I appreciate it. But I’ll warn you. If she’s goes with you and a single hair on her head gets harmed while she’s in your care, I will hold you responsible and I will make you pay.”
I gave a dark chuckle. “With all due respect, sir, if Angel were harmed, I’d have to answer to Phoebe, and she scares me a whole heck more’n you do.”
He laughed, seemingly in spite of himself. “She certainly is her mother’s daughter. There’s no one else who can frighten me like—” He paled as he cut off.
I understood instantly there was now someone who frightened him more than anythin’ else. Whoever had Phoebe—wherever she was—they frightened him.
“We’ll get her back,” I said with a confidence that slipped away a little more with every day that she was missin’. “I’ll go talk to Angel,” I said to break the tension rising in the room.
I knocked on Phoebe’s bedroom door
“Angel?” I said through the wood when there was a lull in her renewed sobs. “It’s Beau. Can I talk to ya for a minute?”
A second later, the door creaked open and her face appeared in the crack. Her tears still wet her cheeks and storm clouds filled her emerald gaze.
“Can I come in?”
She stepped back, lettin’ the door swing open as she did.
As I moved to the bed, I saw she’d returned the photo frame to its rightful position.
“I wanted to invite ya to come down to Florida with me,” I said.
She picked at the blanket rather than lookin’ at me. “Why?”
“I just think Mr. Reede has enough on his plate without worryin’ about whether you’re safe or not. If ya come with me, I can keep ya safe.”
“Yeah, ’cause you did such a bang-up job with Phoebe.”
Her words struck me like an arrow and I flinched away.
“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out and grabbing my arm. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know it’s not really your fault.”
I tugged my arm away from her. “That ain’t true. I shoulda driven her back. I coulda kept her safe then.”
“Yeah, because you had nothing going on in Georgia.”
When I glanced up at her sarcastic tone, she had one brow lifted in challenge.
I chuckled in response. It was the sorta thing Phoebe woulda done. “It wasn’t anythin’ more important than Phoebe.”
“Would it make Mr. R. happier if I went with you?”
“I don’t know about happier. It’d certainly be easier with the runnin’ around he’s gotta do to get involved with the private investigator and everything.”
“Would it make you happier?”
“I just wanna get Phoebe home safe ’n’ sound, and if lettin’ Mr. Reede be free to investigate does that, then that’s what I want.”
She nodded as she picked at the blanket again. “I don’t want to be in the way. I just couldn’t stay at home. I needed to be near to her. I have to help, however I can.”
I rested my hand over hers to steady the nervous action. “And I know her daddy appreciates that. I just don’t want ya disappearin’ too.”
Her gaze cut to mine. “What do you mean?”
“If there’s someone stalkin’ this place lookin’
for pretty ladies, don’t ya think you might be at risk?”
“Do you think . . . Oh, God. What if some creep has her?” She stood and started to pace the small room.
I moved in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. Restin’ my hands on her shoulders, I found her gaze. “Panickin’ about it ain’t gonna help no one. There’s still a chance it’s nothin’. That she’s just takin’ some time away.” I didn’t really believe it, but I needed to calm Angel. “But that’s why I don’t want ya here alone, and I’m pretty sure Mr. Reede feels the same way.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow mornin’. We’ll have to get you a flight if you’re gonna come.”
She stood and took a couple of calming breaths. “Okay. I’ll come to Florida with you.”
I dropped my arms away from her and smiled. “Thank ya, ma’am. I do appreciate it. I’ll arrange your flights. I’ll be by at seven to pick you up.”
“Okay. Thank you, Beau.”
I gave her the best smile I could muster in the circumstances. “It ain’t no bother.”
After I left her, I let Mr. Reede know that I’d be arrangin’ a second flight for her and would be takin’ her with me. Despite agreein’ to let her go if she’d agreed to it, he seemed a little anxious, but relaxed when I swore to let him know her itinerary, from flight details to hotel room number.
“Promise me she won’t even eat lunch without you knowing where she is and what she’s doing,” he warned.
“I swear to ya, sir. I’ll look after her as if she were my own flesh and blood.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as I was out of the apartment, I used my cell phone to book a flight for Angel and then to check us both in.
Regardless of what happened next, one thing was certain. I would guard Angel with my life until she went home or Phoebe was safe.
BY THE TIME I arrived in Daytona, I was wrecked. I’d barely slept the night before; I’d been tossin’ and turnin’ so bad.
Beastly (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #3) Page 9