Page 127 of Filthy Little Regrets
With trembling hands, I turn on my phone. A dozen messages fly across the screen as soon as it’s powered up. I call my husband, palm pressed to my chest like that would slow my racing heart.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m okay. He came in, changed, then was on the phone with someone. There’s a deal tonight.”
“I don’t trust him. Go home. This was a terrible idea.”
I sigh. “I agree, Mace. I did get some pictures of the contracts, but we can look at that when you’re home.”
“I’m twenty away because of traffic. Are you home?”
Biting back a grin, I peek out of the bedroom and slip out when the coast is clear. “You know, I may be wrong, but I feel like you want me to go home,” I whisper.
“Cassia,” he warns, not at all amused.
“Okay, okay. I’m going. I’ll see you soon.”
thirty-five
MACE
Finding the contracts is only step one of taking care of my dad. Agent Smith thinks she’ll be getting the dirt, but I have other plans. I only have to confirm what I suspect to be true. My heart slams against my rib cage, still worried about Cassia, even as I get a text from Tony that confirms she made it home.
I grip the steering wheel, scowling at the almost standstill traffic in front of me. “Fuck, come on.”
The Valiant’s Bluetooth picks up an incoming call. I glance at the console and answer when I seeMomflashing across the screen. “Hey, Mom. I was thinking about you. We should?—”
“Adalie is gone.”
My racing heart stops and air suspends in my lungs. What did she just say? “Sorry, Mom, did you say?—”
“Mace, she’s gone. I don’t know where she is and I, I—” Mom breaks off with a sob, and the muffled sound of the phone changing hands follows.
Apprehension twists my insides.This can’t be real.
“She was supposed to be home an hour ago,” Melody says, voice high and tight.
Only an hour. That’s typical for a nineteen-year-old, right? They’re careless with time.Not Adalie, though.My shoulders bunch. “Okay, well, did you call her friends? Maybe she stopped to hang out.”
“I did. She’s not there.” Melody’s words wobble, and the world tilts on its axis.
No. I can’t believe it. There has to be some explanation. I frown, squeezing the wheel. “She went to class, right? Maybe she’s on campus, stud?—”
“Mace!” Melody cries. “I checked everywhere! She’s not anywhere. Her friend said she wasn’t in class today. You have to find her!”
Dread courses through me like acid sent to dissolve skin and bone. With my jaw clenched so tight my head starts to hurt, I navigate to one of the apps that tracks their devices.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” I murmur, clicking on my youngest sister’s smiling face on the screen. “Tracking her right now. It’ll be okay. She’s probably just...” I trail off, blinking and looking at the device again.
Why would he . . .
There’s no way he’d . . . would he?
Melody sucks in a breath, filling in the blanks I left behind. “What is it? Mace? What?”
“What’s happening?” Mom asks through sobs that wrap around my chest and squeeze.
