Something is telling me she’s not there, that she never went into the firehouse. I’ve had a funny feeling all day. My gut screaming that something wasn’t right, but I held back, and now I’m regretting it.
“Sorry, Raya hasn’t been in today. She was on the afternoon shift yesterday. Tom wants her to have a rest, especially with school,” the woman says, and my stomach drops.
School, what fucking school? Raya isn’t in school, is she?
Fuck, how much more do I not know about the girl I’ve fallen in love with, the girl I grew up with?
“Alright, thanks,” I say as my heart pounds before hanging up, and my body vibrates as I quickly bring up her number and press on it, but before I can put the phone to my ear, a phone ringing catches my attention near the stove.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I stand, shoving the stool out of the way before I storm over to the phone and pick it up to see a picture of me on Family Day when I was around twenty grinning. I swallow the lump in my throat, the bad feelings that have built up throughout the day, the feelings I tried to push back, thinking maybe it was all in my head me.
Squeezing Raya’s phone in my hand, I put mine away in pocket, then turn and storm towards the door before rushing down the stairs.
I need to get to the club, to speak to Blade and my dad, and fuck, I need to put Raya’s name in the database finally. Something I have held off on doing, not wanting to lose her trust.
“Guess she forced my hand,” I mutter to myself as I slam through the front door of the apartment complex and walk over to my bike before climbing on.
Putting Raya’s phone in the interior pocket on my cut, I start my bike up, not giving a shit that I’m not wearing a shirt because stupidly, I left my other shirt that she stole, not that it would fit anymore, on her couch. I rev my bike but I pause as my eyes go to the direction of her childhood home that I have tried my hardest to avoid over the years. I would go there only when my sister forced me to drive Raya home when I picked them up in high school. A home I always thought was too modest for a spoiled princess.
I chew my bottom lip, not taking my eyes off the road, wondering if Gregory can help me.
“Fuck it,” I murmur, making my mind up after a few seconds of debating, and I rev my bike again before heading down the road in the direction of Raya’s family home.
Maybe they’ll be able to shed some light for me.
Twenty minutes later, I pull up behind Gregory's black SUV and curse not seeing Raya’s car in the driveway. I go to leave, but before I can pull away, the door opens. Gregory in the doorway, his brows furrowed and his three-piece suit is nowhere in sight. Just a normal t-shirt and jeans in place instead.
The fucker looks weird.
“Venom?” he questions with confusion and concern, and I turn my bike off.
I can’t just drive away to search for his daughter, not without raising suspicions, and honestly, maybe he knows where Raya is, though my gut is telling me he doesn’t. Something is wrong, I can feel it. And over the years, I have learned to listen to my gut.
“Have you heard from Raya today?” I ask, not climbing off my bike while also not beating around the bush.
He frowns as a woman appears beside him.
She isn’t as blonde as Raya, and her eyes are a different color too, but her facial features, the curved brow and bow lips, are all my girl.
“What’s this about Raya?” the woman, I’m guessing is Grace Averie, Raya’s mama, questions with concern.
“I haven’t heard from Raya since last night when she messaged you showed up again,” he admits, not answering his wife, and my pulse spikes.
Fuck.
I’m fairly certain Ivy mentioned that Raya stays in contact with her parents at least twice a day.
“I thought she may have been called in, which is why we haven’t heard from her yet,” he admits while the woman tilts her head at me, her hair falling to the side as her caramel eyes scrutinize me before they linger on my neck.
“You’re Venom, Ivy’s brother, right?” she confirms, I nod once, and she half smiles, a smile just like my girl’s, and admits, “I’ve heard a lot about you over the years, sometimes good, sometimes there is a lot of cursing involved. My daughter is in love with you.”
And there goes my ego…
Instead of letting her words get to me, or showing her what a dick I can sometimes be while trying not to puff my chest like a caveman, I admit, “I’m in love with your daughter,” making her smile wider but her smile vanishes when I admit, “And at five this morning I woke to her gone after she finally let me in, leaving a note claiming to have been called in at the firehouse.”
Grace freezes, her eyes wide as her face pales, already seeing where I’m going with this, while Gregory goes solid and replies, “The firehouse wouldn’t keep her all day if they called her in before five, not after she did a shift yesterday.”
